“Gypsy.” Nour side-eyes Hugo, daring him to object, and he lifts his hands with a huff. “They move around a lot.”

“Well, where is she now?”

“No one has seen Manu since before the shooting.”

“So she’s missing, too? Is there anyone else who could talk to me about Manu? Someone who knew both her and Angela, and who is not on holiday?”

“You should go see Delphine Rousseau, Angela’s dissertation director. I think she’s teaching the summer school session. She would have more information about Angela’s studies and whether Manu is still enrolled at the Sorbonne or skipped out to Belgium.” Corkscrew curls tilt to the side, emphasizing the last possibility. “Manu’s full name is Emmanuelle Wood.”

My mind is spinning. It’s not crazy Nour never heard of Seb if she and Angela didn’t see each other most of last year. Even if they were good friends in the two years prior. But that, coupled with learning more about this frenemy Angela had, is unnerving. What other variables to this equation am I missing? I thought Nour might shed more light on Paris Angela and my sister’s routines, but these insights only leave me anxious and feeling like I know even less than I did before. “Thanks. And thanks for the water.” I turn to leave when Nour moves to my side.

“I wish I could show you around, but I’m under deadline with the Paris Opera this week. I hope you find what it is you’re looking for. Just be careful. France is not very friendly to foreigners at the moment. It’s actually giving us Muslims a break.” Her laugh stops short, relaxing into a smile. “Let me know if I can help more. Good luck, love.”

Nour kisses me on both cheeks, and Hugo does the same. Despite the rough start to our introductions, I shut the door feeling a little less alone.

Outside the police station, I pay my cab driver in a bleary-eyed trance, then step to the curb. Collecting my thoughts the best I can, I jog into the police station and sail through the metal detector to pause before the same receptionist from Sunday.

“Inspector Valentin, please?” I ask in French.

An annoyed sigh shakes the woman’s jowls as she looks up. A crossword puzzle on her cell phone is illuminated in her palm. Eyeing my frazzled expression, she turns to her computer and makes a few clicks. Thick, hair-sprayed curls protect her face like a helmet. “The inspector is out of the office.”

Crap. “When will he return?”

“No idea, miss. Do you want to leave a message for him? He can call you tomorrow.” She lifts a few notepads, moves a stack of papers.