Could it actually be him?

I tap a pane, too lightly. Tap again louder, in spite of my household. The fellow lifts his head, only partly. But like all those many years ago, when from my window in Eden Springs I’d spy my friend on his moonlit walks, I know in my gut.

It’s Arie.

A thrill bursts through me. But before I can act, he takes off toward the cathedral. I stop myself from thumping on the glass. Rather, I hurry from my room with coat and shoes in hand, throwing them on at base of the stairs, having descended with the softest but quickest of steps.

I crack open the front door as laughter floats down from Dom Tower. The two Germans posted high above appear distracted with conversation. Arie is lost from my sight but can’t be far. I slip out, pulse hammering in my ears, and rush the short distance to sidle up to the bell tower. Umbrellaed by branches, I again mimic the caution I’ve witnessed before stealing across the open space between trees, past the cathedral, and out of the square.

Up ahead, the street splits like a Y. Which path did he choose?

Blast it.

Arriving at the divide, I locate his silhouette down the bend to the left—thank God. He’s rounding a corner in the distance. It takes every ounce of my will not to yell his name. Surely some patrollers are in the area, making rounds at all hours. I recall Willem’s warning about the Dutch police. If either of us is caught, if we’re arrested, no doubt our identity cards would be further scrutinized and—

My ID. I’d left it in the room.

I hate to imagine the penalty for the combined infractions, of where that could lead, but turning back isn’t an option. Barreling forward despite the odds of stumbling, I cast around glances for patrollers. The cool air seeps through my woven blouse. There’s no time to fasten my coat.

Lining both sides of the street, potential gazes bear down from blacked-out windows. I sprint away from the thought, keeping near silent on the balls of my feet while following Arie around the corner. Where once more he’s vanished.

Still, he can’t be far.

I hasten down the road until reaching another split. I look both ways, straining to locate him through the dimness, not finding him.

North—Willem said he went north. But then what? And which direction am I even facing? Staving off panic, I hazard a guess and go straight. At the next corner, I glance left, and I see him!

Joy shoots through me. But with just as much power, it shatters in an instant. Posted outside a building on the right side of the street, a German soldier gazes off while smoking a cigarette that glows orange at the tip. Moonlight glints off the rifle strapped to his shoulder.