Page 96 of Where the Snakes Sleep

A final paragraph, shorter than the others.

The drive is encrypted. The password is not written here. If the person finding this knew me well enough, I hope they will understand where to look. If not, the answer is somewhere among what I left behind.

Do not trust Henri.

And do not trust anyone simply because they tell you they hated him.

—Alberte Legrand

Henri, if it is you who is reading this:

May we find each other in another life.

I’m unsure how long my eyes remain fixed on that very last line. What does it mean? Did he still love Henri, even after everything?

I take a screenshot of the translation. I photograph the original French letter from several angles, making sure every line is legible. Only after I have copies do I fold the page carefully along its original creases.

My hands feel strangely disconnected from the rest of my body as I tuck the letter back into the envelope. I pocket the USB, then stare at the notebook.

The notebook may help provide context.

My fingers hover over it.

Then my phone buzzes, and I nearly launch it into the wall.

“Fuck!”

My heart slams violently against my ribs as the screen lights up with an incoming message from Camille.

I’m certain he knows what I’m doing, but then I see the text.

Camille: How are you?

That’s it.

Another message arrives before I respond.

Camille: We have a brief intermission. Have you eaten anything since breakfast?

I close my eyes, feeling flooded with relief. Well, relief and an inkling of guilt. After all, I made him promise not to lie to me again just three days ago.

Me: I’m fine. Not hungry yet. How’s the presentation?

Three dots appear.

Disappear.

Then appear again.

Camille: Less entertaining than you.

My chest does that stupid warm expanding thing. I hate it.

Camille: I should be finished near two, as expected. I thought we could have lunch afterward.

I look at my surroundings.

Me: Lunch sounds good :)