Abe wanted to slap himself. How could he have been such an idiot? Stammering like a schoolboy at that horrible woman’s advances--acting like a complete fool--and now she was gone! With the gun! He paced nervously in the dark. The crows on the roof’s edges muttered, as though anxious at the sudden turn of events.
He couldn’t leave. He’d learned his lesson on that, hadn’t he? He couldn’t leave the entrance, no matter how much time he thought he had. Because once you left, you didn’t know how far you’d go--what might hold you up--what might distract you--no, he insisted to himself, stolen gun or not, he had to stay here. He had to be resolute.
Why had she bothered stealing it, anyway? At least--why now? If she was such an accomplished thief, as she never tired of reminding them, why did she have to wait until they were out in the middle of nowhere in the dark? Couldn’t she have taken it at the hotel, then hopped on a train back to Paris? For that matter, couldn’t she have just done the deed before they’d left? He shook his head. It didn’t make sense.
Unless--a nervous realization overtook him--unless there was a reason she needed the gun here. Now. Unless she hadn’t planned to before, and something had happened--but what? They’d been together. There was no threat. What on earth could possibly have--
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three sudden, painfully loud gunshots echoed across the otherwise silent night.