'Yvette, this is Lieutenant Boyle, and there is our friend, Miss Seaton.'

'I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant,' she said in slow but proper English, holding her hands together in front of her. She wore a skirt with all sorts of flowers on it, and a white blouse with ruffled sleeves and blue embroidery around the neckline, a peasant blouse I think the girls back home called it. Her hair was brown, short and wavy, and she had a confident smile. Her eyes cautiously flitted around the room, taking in everything, assessing the situation, to see if whatever Kaz had said that had gotten her to accompany a stranger into a hotel room was on the up and up.

'Yvette works in a little shop down the street…' Kaz started to explain.

'What were you shopping for?' I asked in a low voice.

'I thought Diana would like some clothes and feminine articles,' said Kaz, 'so I went in search of a shop. Yvette was very helpful, and speaks excellent English.' He nodded to her, and she returned the favor.

'That's nice,' I said. 'I don't mean to sound rude but what is she doing here?'

'I have engaged Yvette to stay with Diana for the rest of the day and night. She had just finished work at the shop, and is also free tomorrow. Her mother runs the establishment, and agreed once I explained the situation.'

'Thanks, Kaz. I hadn't thought that far ahead.'

'Yes, well, that is what friends are for, is it not?' Kaz didn't wait for an answer. He sat on the couch, opening the parcels with his good hand as Yvette held them for him. There was perfume, colorful silk pajamas in greens and blues, a long robe that looked almost like an evening gown, lipstick, and a bunch of make-up stuff that I could only guess at.

'Yes, it is, Kaz. Thank you. I'm glad you're here.'

He stopped for a moment, then he looked at Diana, and at Yvette, standing in front of him holding an open box with silks spilling out of it in an eruption of colors. 'You know,' he said, a hint of amazement creeping into his voice, 'I am glad also.'

'Glad of what?'

We all turned to see Diana, awake and propped up on her elbows, blinking her eyes and looking at Yvette.

'Glad to see you, and to be among friends,' Kaz continued, a smile lighting up his face. 'This is Yvette, and she will stay with you tonight. Billy and I have some business to attend to.'

Diana pushed herself up and said, 'Be careful, both of you.'

'We will be, my dear,' Kaz answered. 'We have all sorts of things here that Yvette picked out. I told her you were without anything a young lady needs and she has supplied you with all the basics.' He spread his hands out to indicate the boxes strewn around the couch.

'Perhaps tomorrow, Miss Seaton, I can go out and purchase some dresses for you, if you tell me what you like.'

'That sounds nice, Yvette,' Diana said. 'Very nice. And please call me Diana.'

'Oui. Today, we can perhaps wash your hair, Diana,' Yvette said. She had a very precise way of speaking, as if she were thinking about each word, which she probably was. Diana said something to her in French, not as slowly, and they both laughed.

'And shoes, also,' Yvette said as she moved around the bed to help Diana take off the combat boots. 'Yes, definitely shoes.'

'I must go now,' said Kaz. 'I will speak to the kitchen about your meals and they will be brought to you. No army food will be allowed in this room, I promise you. I will meet you at the jeep, Billy.' He made a little bow and smiled at Yvette before giving her the room key.

Her face lit up. One thing I could never figure out is the effect Kaz had on women. He's a short, thin guy with glasses, with a long scar on one side of his face. But there's something about him that drives women wild. Maybe it's that he's the kind of guy who thinks about buying soft frilly things. Or maybe it's the bow. I couldn't see myself pulling that one off.

I sat on the side of Diana's bed. Yvette got busy around the couch, picking up clothes, folding them, and putting them away in the dresser drawers.

'We'll be back in the morning,' I said.

'You don't have to come back, you know,' Diana said, watching Yvette opening drawers. 'You came to Bone to rescue me, I know that. If it wasn't for you, I might be dead right now.' Her voice trailed off, and I wondered if she was thinking back to that courtyard at the French supply depot and remembering raising that pistol to her head. Or, was she recalling Villard.

'But I will come back,' I assured her.

'I'm not sure I want you to.'

'Why? What do you mean?'

'You figure it out, you're the detective.' Her eyes were filled with pain and hurt. She spoke again before I could, but she was done talking to me. 'Yvette, help me up, please. I'd love to get out of these men's clothes and to bathe.' She tried to swivel her legs around, pushing up with her hands. As she rose into a sitting position at the end of the bed, she winced.

'Can I help?' I asked, sounding like a little kid in the kitchen with his mother.

'No, no, no,' said Yvette, advancing on me and wagging a finger. 'This is work for women only. You must leave.'

'Billy, please go, I know you have things to do,' said Diana.

'Okay,' I said, trying hard not to sound like a chump getting the heave-ho. 'I just want to wash up for a minute before I go. I'll knock before I come out to make sure you're decent.' I retreated to the bathroom. It was big, with a marble sink, nickel-plated fixtures, and a big freestanding tub on little claw feet with soft towels hung on either side. Nice bathroom for the honeymoon suite, I thought glumly as I looked at myself in the mirror. Everything about me was rumpled. Shirt, hair, even my face. I ran some water and washed, wanting to feel clean and fresh. I wet my hair and ran a comb through it, finding the part and noticing that my hair was already turning lighter and my skin darker as I spent more time under the North African sun. I gave myself the patented Billy Boyle smile, guaranteed to charm every time. I saw pearly whites against tan skin, but not a touch of charm. Then I heard a shriek. Without thinking I quickly opened the door.

Yvette was standing on the other side of the bed, holding her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. I moved around the bed as she shook off whatever had scared her and kneeled.

'She got up too quickly and fainted, Monsieur. Je suis desolee.' I think that meant she was sorry.

Then I saw why Yvette had screamed. Diana lay on her side on the floor. The robe she was wearing had fallen open. She was naked, her body covered in welts and bruises, the kind of marks a real sadist leaves. No blood, no cuts, just ugly black, blue, dark red, and grayish-green colors decorating her like a tattooed nightmare. Yvette grabbed one end of the robe and covered her, but not before I could see the large dark, bruises between her thighs and the red welts on her breasts.

'Je suis desolee,' Yvette said again, this time to Diana as she patted her cheeks. 'Je suis desolee.' I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Diana came to suddenly, grabbed at her robe and pulled it tightly closed.

'I got up too quickly- '

'I know. Let me help you,' I said, trying to make light of her state, as if she had merely been a bit dizzy.

She didn't say anything. Yvette and I each took an elbow and lifted her, seating her on the edge of the bed. Our eyes locked for an instant and a silent message passed between us. Diana didn't need to know that we had both seen.

'I will start the hot water running in the tub,' Yvette said, now in command of her English once more. 'Do not get up, I will help you into the bathroom in a minute.' She went into the bathroom and I was left alone with Diana. I struggled to stay in control, to sound normal, to pretend I hadn't just seen the marks of a torturer's hands all over her. I didn't know what I was feeling. A numbness had settled in over my heart.

'I don't know what's wrong, but I have to stop this fainting,' Diana said.

'You've been through a lot. You'll feel better after a few days of bed rest.' I tried to sound chipper, like I knew what the hell I was talking about.

'You remember that you said you'd find them,' Diana said, not really a question but a statement. I had to struggle to think about what it was she was talking about.

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