Duchess waddled. Her talons scratched over the wood.

Susan glanced at Bertie and noticed that he was pointing to the ceiling.

A jolt hit her. My bedroom window. She looked up.

Bertie nodded.

As Susan turned to go to her room, Duchess leaped into the air and swooped upstairs. Susan’s heart raced. She ran, her wellies feeling like deep-sea diving shoes as she scaled the steps. Reaching her room, she found Duchess perched on the windowsill.

“Wait!”

Duchess dove from the ledge.

Susan stuck her head out the window. Cold wind bit at her cheeks. She watched Duchess flap her wings, using more effort than usual, as if her canister were filled with sand. As her tired pigeon slowly gained altitude, Susan shuddered. There’s no place to rest over the Channel.

CHAPTER 42 - AIRAINES, FRANCE

CHAPTER 42

AIRAINES, FRANCE

“Bury him in the woods,” Boar said, standing over the body. “And hide the car in the barn.”

Ollie looked at Dietrich, his mouth gaped. Blood oozed from his shattered hand. “No.”

“Do it,” Boar barked.

Ollie glanced at Madeleine, sitting next to him on the ground and pressing a hand to the cut on her scalp. “We can’t leave any evidence. The Nazis will know his routine. They’ll search this place and blame Madeleine.”

Boar stepped to them.

Madeleine looked up and gasped. “Your eye!”

Boar touched his face, as if he were expecting to find one of his eyes still bandaged. Instead, he found a shriveled cornea. His face turned pale.

Madeleine reached for the lieutenant.

Boar turned. He stormed into the cottage, leaving the door open.

“Let me see.” Ollie kneeled next to Madeleine and examined her head. Near her temple was a quarter-inch-deep gash. And a protrusion the size of a small river stone. He plucked a dead leaf from her hair, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully pressed it to her wound.

“Merci,” Madeleine said.

“What happened?”

“Herr Dietrich had come for his truffles. He wasn’t due to arrive for a few days.” She rubbed Louis’s head.

The hog snorted.

“When I told him that I had no truffles, he became angry and said he was going to shoot my schwein.”

“Jesus,” Ollie said. “That’s it?”

“The Nazis have little tolerance.” She took the handkerchief from Ollie and glanced at the bloodied fabric. “Even for a woman who’s neglected her truffle hunting.”

Ollie helped Madeleine to her feet. “You’ve been busy helping us. I’m sorry we’ve put you in this mess.” He looked at the Nazi’s car; its shiny grille and bug-eye headlights appeared to stare back at him. He paused, then slipped off his jacket.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m gonna take care of this.” He removed his shirt.

“But the flight lieutenant—”