Chapter ElevenSabrina Lellouche pulled her scarf forward to hide her face as she quickly walked the last blocks before reaching the mansion of Madame Desrosiers. It was dusk on Saturday, and hardly anyone was on the streets. It was cold. She reached into her bag and drew out an old-fashioned key and let herself in through the kitchen door.
The shutters were closed and the house was dark. The heat was still on, so it was warm enough—too warm, Sabrina had always thought, but then old people probably got cold easily. She stood in the kitchen and inhaled the familiar smell of the house deep down into her lungs. It was strange to be in the house alone, but she had been going there for several years and it didn’t feel right never to come again.
She could feel the presence of the old lady. Coul
