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"What?" she asked with a grin

"Olivier"

Clara’s grin slowly faded

"You know," said Olivier, "I thought prison would be the worst The huet used to Even now those , but they’re more in my head now Not so much here" He pressed his hand to his chest "But you knohat doesn’t go away?"

Clara shook her head and steeled herself "TellSoood man, in prison God knew, he was flawed More than most, perhaps But his punishment had far outstripped the crime

Clara didn’t think she could stand to hear the best part of being in prison, and now she was about to hear the worst But he had to tell it And Clara had to listen

"It’s not the trial, not even prison" Olivier looked at her with sad eyes "Do you knoakeswith a panic attack?"

Clara waited, feeling her own heart pounding

"It was here After I’d been released It alking fro walk across the snow to the bistro"

Clara stared at her friend, not quite understanding How could the htening than being locked behind bars?

She remembered that day clearly It had been a Sunday afternoon in February Another crisp, cold winter day She and Myrna and Ruth and Peter andcafé au laits and talking She’d been chatting with Myrna when she’d noticed Gabri had grown uncharacteristically quiet and was staring out the s Then she’d looked Children were skating on the pond, playing a pick-up gahts, building forts Down rue du Moulin she saw the familiar Volvo drive slowly into Three Pines It parked by the village green Three ot out of the vehicle They paused, then sloalked the few paces to the bistro

Gabri had stood up, al Then the entire bistro had grown quiet, as all eyes followed Gabri’s stare They watched the three figures It was al

Clara said nothing and waited for Olivier to continue

"I knoas just a few yards, really," he finally said "But the bistro seeht through your coat Our boots on the snow sounded so loud, crunching and squealing, like ere stepping on so it"

Olivier paused, and narrowed his eyes again