Javier said, and Vivian woke, startled and disoriented. Her last memory before her lids closed had been of the pastel colors of the sunset over peaceful countryside, which, along with the slowed rhythm of the car, had lulled her into a doze. She followed Javier from the car and smiled at the entrance to a dark-brown lodge with a medium-sized stone statue of two kissing birds in the front garden. If things weren’t so strained between them, she would have congratulated him on his acute sense of direction, as he had only glanced at the map once before finding the street filled with bed-and-breakfasts. At the run-down reception area, Javier spoke in German with the receptionist. Vivian picked up a brochure for visitors and pretended to read while she watched Javier. She knew Molly hadn’t committed suicide. Aside from that truth, all she had were questions. Did Molly have an affair with someone else? Could there be another explanation? Would Edouard get something out of Javier’s investigator?
