Page 32 of One Last Step

Gustaf swallows again.“Well… It’s not on its display.”

“Fucking hell,” Elena curses.She pokes her head into the foyer, “Antoinette, close the doors and turn the sign off.Someone’s stolen another bloody clock.”

“I’ll pull up security footage,” Gustaf offers helpfully.

I think he just wants an excuse not to be around Elena right now.I don’t blame him.Elena is practically purple with rage.

“Yes, do that.God…” Elena grabs fistfuls of her hair and stiffens.

For a terrifying moment, I fear she’s going to rip it out of her scalp.I actually step forward to stop her, but she relaxes and lets her hands drop.“Well, that’s wonderful.Just wonderful.”

“What’s the Kaiser Wilhelm clock?”I ask.

“It’s a clock owned by Kaiser Wilhelm,” she says drily, “then by various others, then by the Chronomasters Museum and now by some whoreson thief.”

I purse my lips and look away.“I’ll go tend to Sophie.”

“Yes, do that.Just to warn you, I will be calling the police, and they’ll want to talk to you.I don’t think you’re a thief, nor do I hate you, nor am I a paranoid witch—something I hope is clear now.Please don’t get huffy when they talk to you.”

I only nod before leaving for the stairwell.Another theft?But how?And who?

My mind drifts back to Hans.What was he doing outside of the Museum talking so urgently with a stranger?Why didn't he come inside?The Museum was open, and Elena was here.

Did he hire someone to steal that clock?It seems ludicrous, but then he showed such a keen interest in the automata clock.Could he be looking for Nazi artifacts as well?

Hans, Lukas Margot, Elena, Claudia… Hell, even Sophie and Luc.It’s a Nazi treasure hunt.

I remember the journal and nearly head to my room to read through it instead of going to Sophie, but I’ve already told Elena I would check in on her, and anyway, the poor girl has been yelled at and dismissed enough over things that aren’t her fault.She could use an encouraging word, and I—at long last—could use a break from this.

I find her in her room, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her chin resting in her hands.She stares moodily at the TV, which plays a movie about a group of kids who find buried treasure in an old house and accidentally find themselves at odds with a group of mobsters as a result.It's a comedy movie, but the theme is remarkably dark when you strip the slapstick away.

“Hey, Sophie,” I say.“Rough day?”

She raises her eyebrow.“Actually, I’ve had a really good day.Up until Grandma had a meltdown again.What’s going on with all of this anyway?Why is she so worried?And what is Margot talking about with Israel and all of that nonsense?”

“I don’t know,” I reply.Which isn’t really a lie.“But that’s for grownups to worry about.”

She frowns."Why do people keep saying that?How am I supposed to learn to be a grownup if every time I try to do grownup things, people tell me to stop doing them?"

“That is a mystery that has plagued the teachers and parents of the world since the beginning of history, and one that isn’t likely to be solved within our lifetimes.I’ll give you the answer my parents gave me.Just do your best.”

Now, thatisa lie.My parents never talked to me about growing up or making adult decisions.

“That’s dumb advice.”

That's true, too."Yes, it is.Would you like me to bring you some ice cream?"

She brightens and nods.Then she grins.“You’re still not terrible.”

I return her smile.“That’s good to hear.I try very hard not to be terrible.”

I take the stairs to the third floor.I’m actually excited to enjoy some ice cream with Sophie.Maybe I can convince her to watch a more uplifting movie than the one she’s watching now.We can live in our own little world and forget about the darkness in the real one for a while.

So naturally, my hopes are immediately dashed when I open the door and see Inspector Jacques Moreau.“Ah.Miss Mary.I’m glad to run into you.Could I have a word, please?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I sigh and walk past him to the kitchen.“I’ll talk to you, but do you mind if I finish Sophie’s ice cream first?”

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