Midnight Train to Paris (A Paris Time Travel Romance) Read online

  A chilly draft slithers through the dark cabin, sending a shiver through my body. Samuel wraps the blanket tighter around me, then nods, urging me to go on.

  “By the time Isla and I were in junior high, our mother had reached the height of her insanity. She would scream at us for no reason at all; she stopped buying us clothes, food, or medication. She blamed us for our father leaving and for the decline of her business. The truth was that she was getting older and she wasn’t able to reel in men the way she once could. I was so ashamed of her, of the way we lived. I wanted to be as far away from that house as I could, so I immersed myself in the school newspaper every day after school. I’d hang around until the cleaning crew would literally kick me out. During this time, Isla told me she got a job babysitting for some of the neighbor kids after school. She said she was saving her money to get us out of there. She told me she had a plan…that I should trust her.

  “But what I didn’t know was that Isla wasn’t babysitting. One day she had come home from school early, and Parker Williams—not yet a senator at this time—was just pulling up to our house. He’d come to the other side of town to visit my mother for one of their afternoon sessions, but when he spotted Isla in her short skirt, prancing into the house, he forgot all about my mother.”

  A flare of anger passes through Samuel’s eyes as I continue.

  “Williams worked a deal with my mom. He would pay her double if he could have Isla two afternoons a week. You have to understand that at this point, my mother hated Isla…much more than she hated me. Isla was the beautiful twin, and at thirteen her beauty had far surpassed my mother’s. But there was something else about Isla—she was pure, sweet, and innocent. The complete opposite of my jaded, damaged, nasty mother. My mother knew her prospects weren’t good, so she agreed to Williams's proposition. That night, when I came home from the school newspaper, Isla didn’t speak to me. She didn’t speak to me for a whole week. At night, I heard her sobbing in her pillow. I kept asking her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me. She just kept saying she was fine, that she had a plan to get us out of there and I needed to trust her and stop asking questions.

  “This went on for months without me having any clue. But Isla hadn’t been lying to me—she did have a plan. One of the other men who came for my mother was younger, more handsome than the others. He noticed Isla, and he wasn’t as pushy with her—unlike Parker Williams, the bastard. This man’s name was Russell Hughes.”

  Samuel raises a brow, surely recognizing the name from the police reports he looked up on my mother.

  “Isla approached Russell once when my mother wasn’t in the room. She made him an offer. Pay her twice what he paid my mother, and he could have her as often as he wanted. He agreed. He stopped seeing my mother, and he only came over when Isla knew my mom wouldn’t be home. Despite the sickness of the situation, Isla actually liked Russell. She saw him as a ticket out of our hellish home life. But what Isla didn’t know was that my mother was in love with Russell…or at least in her deranged head, she thought she was in love with him. When he stopped seeing her, she went even more mental. She would leave us for days at a time without food, money, or any clue as to where she’d gone.”

  “I assume your mom found out about Russell and Isla,” Samuel says quietly. “How?”

  “It was Parker Williams.” I dig my nails into the soft rug beneath me as I try to contain my hatred for that man. “He noticed that Isla had become more comfortable in bed with him. ‘More experienced and less afraid’ were his words I believe. He told my mother this, and she knew immediately that she’d lost Russell to Isla and that Isla must’ve been hiding the money from her. So one day, our mother said she was leaving for the afternoon, but she hid in her car around the corner and waited. As expected, Russell pulled up within the hour. I was at school, working on the paper, and for some reason, I just knew to come home. I felt it… I knew Isla was in danger. So I ran home as fast as I could, but I was too late. My mother had already shot Russell in the head, and she was about to shoot Isla when I ran into the room.” I pause, feeling my breath leave me as my mind recreates the same vivid, horrific scene I only ever see in nightmares.

  “I took a vase from the kitchen and smashed it over the back of her head. She dropped the gun, and I managed to grab it before she got to me. And then, I shot my own mother in the knee to stop her from doing any more damage.”

  I try not to blink, knowing that the memory of my mother’s blood will be waiting for me as soon as I do.

  “And you were only thirteen?” Samuel says, the look in his eyes incredulous.

  “Yes, but after that day, both Isla and I felt like we were forty. Our innocence was gone forever…and Isla’s had been gone for a lot longer. I just didn’t know it. As we were waiting for the police to arrive, I kept the gun aimed at my mother while Isla cleaned herself up and put her clothes back on. She begged me never to tell a soul what she’d been doing. She didn’t want this sickening past chasing her around her whole life. Keeping her secret was the least I could do considering what had happened to her…when all along I’d been oblivious. Lost in my own little world at the school paper. I’ve felt guilty for years. I don’t know if I’ll ever shake this guilt.”

  Samuel tilts my chin up so our eyes meet. “It wasn’t your fault, Jill. You know that, don’t you?”

  I nod, pretending to know. But that familiar stab of regret—regret over something I cannot change—seizes my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe.

  “After our mother was sentenced to life in prison for the murder of Russell Hughes, Isla and I were shuffled from foster home to foster home, but I kept my word. I never told a soul about what she’d done…what she’d been forced to do at the hands of the woman who was supposed to love us more than anyone in the world.”

  “So in your mother’s hearing, you didn’t bring up Parker Williams's name?” Samuel asks.

  “No, Isla made me swear not to say a word. She couldn’t bear the thought of having our future caretakers know what she’d been doing. She was so young. You can only imagine the shame, the embarrassment of having something like this follow you around your whole life. Before the police arrived that day, Isla even took the gun out of my hands, aimed it at my mother, and made her swear never to tell the courts what had gone on between Isla, Williams, and Hughes. She forced my mom to testify that she’d been the one having sex with Russell Hughes before she shot him, which explains why he was naked. That’s the reason you’ll never find the entire truth in any of the court records.”

  Samuel tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and runs his thumb along my cheek, being careful not to touch any of my cuts and bruises. “Jill, I can’t believe you lived through all of this. That you survived. That you’re such an amazing, beautiful person. How have you held this in all these years?”

  “It was for Isla. Always for Isla. Because for her, it was so much worse.”

  Samuel kisses me on the forehead, silencing the cry that threatens to escape my lips. “It was unimaginable for Isla. But it was just as bad for you. You’re brave, Jillian. The bravest woman I’ve ever known.” He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the lips before squaring his gaze in front of mine. “I understand why you kept this a secret all those years. You’re loyal, and Isla is lucky to have you as a sister.”

  “Thank you,” I say quietly. “I wanted to tell you, but I don’t think I was ready to tell anyone until now. Until you. It was a nightmare, all of it. Not exactly the kind of thing you want to relive over and over, you know?”

  Samuel nods, the creases around his eyes and the grim expression on his face telling me that he knows more than anyone. Karine’s murder was as gruesome as they get. He’s lived through a nightmare too.

  Yet here we both are—survivors.

  A new fire blazes in Samuel’s eyes as he squeezes my hand. “I know that before Isla’s disappearance, you were working on the story that exposed Senator’s Williams's involvement in a child prostitution
ring and in the murder of those two sisters.” Samuel pauses as he gazes out the snowy window. “And you know what? I don’t think you were the only one who was putting it all on the line to watch that bastard burn.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My team was already investigating Williams's connection to the Morel family when you sent me the photograph of the three of them at the charity gala. And with what you just told me about his connection to Isla, I think I know what might’ve happened.”

  “You do?”

  The certainty in Samuel’s strong profile and the way he holds himself makes me believe him even before he says a word.

  “I don’t think it was a coincidence that your sister was dating Frédéric Morel and that his family happens to be close with Senator Williams.”

  “Are you saying that Isla started dating Frédéric because of his family’s connection to Williams?”

  Samuel nods. “From what you just described to me, Isla sounds like a smart woman. Troubled, but smart. Someone who knows how to get what she wants.”

  “That’s my sister.”

  “I believe Isla singled out Frédéric Morel so that she would cross paths with Williams again.”

  “Okay, you’re losing me here. Why in the hell would she want to cross paths with Williams again?” I say.

  “To blackmail him.”

  Suddenly Isla’s voicemail comes rushing back to me. She’d sounded excited…and devious. “Before Isla was taken on the train, in her message to me, she said—”

  “You’re not going to believe what I’ve done this time,” Samuel finishes for me. “And she laughed, which shows that she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t know she had any reason to be. I believe Isla threatened to go to the police or to the press, or even just to the senator’s family, with the story of how he exploited her as a young girl…unless he resigned.”

  “If you’re right, then Isla blackmailing Williams was the real reason he resigned so suddenly—from a press conference in France no less—right after he’d seen Isla at that charity ball with the Morels. The insane part is that the story I’d been working on for the past two weeks came to a head literally on the exact same day, making Williams wanted for murder in the States. Which is why he’s now on the run.”

  “Just like you, Isla wanted that man to lose everything,” Samuel says. “And she couldn’t move on with her life until it was done.”

  I think about the fact that Isla and I share the same blood, the same horrid past, and the same contempt for Parker Williams. If Isla had found out that Williams had a vacation home in France and traveled in the same circles as her, it made sense that she would’ve wanted him gone. That she would’ve wanted him to lose everything, to see him unravel—the way we both did when we were only children.

  “But that still doesn’t explain Senator Williams's involvement in Isla’s abduction,” I say. “Obviously, he had motive if she was blackmailing him, but if he was planning to shut her up by abducting her, why would he follow through with the resignation?”

  Samuel shoots a quick glance at the deserted cabin we are nestled inside. “Judging by our surroundings, we know there’s a lot more to these abductions than the connection Williams has to your sister. But I do believe he was involved in some way. It’s just too much of a coincidence otherwise.”

  “Based on what I found out from Frances and Rosie earlier, it sounds like Rosie’s ex-fiancé, Alexandre Morel, and his father, Henri, could be the culprits in the 1937 version of this crime. Frances told me she was having an affair with Henri, and that he was the one who gave her the ticket to the Orient Express.”

  “After what she said on the train, I figured Frances was sleeping with one of the Morel men,” Samuel says.

  “And Rosie was certain Alexandre was behind the abduction. Jacques—her true love and my grandfather—sent her the Orient Express ticket in early December, and she’s been staying at the Morel Château for the entire month with her family, so she hid the ticket inside the box where she keeps Jacques’s letters.”

  “So Alexandre easily could’ve snooped around and found out that Rosie was planning to leave him for another man,” Samuel says.

  “Exactly. And if he happened to find out she was pregnant with that man’s child—or children—he would have even more motive to avenge his hurt pride.”

  “So you believe that Henri and Alexandre hired men to storm the train and take Rosie and Frances?” Samuel asks.

  “Yes. And as for me, I think I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Samuel runs his hand along his chin, lost in thought. “You may just be right. And perhaps Frédéric and his father, Laurent, are working together in the same way in Isla’s case…with some involvement from Williams. All to save the family’s reputation. To take care of any woman who might tarnish the family name or hurt their massive egos.”

  “Yeah, I don’t imagine that the Morels would want it going public that Frédéric’s fiancée fell in love with a Parisian artist, got pregnant with his baby, and that she was sexually abused as a child by one of their longtime political friends.”

  “No, I don’t imagine they would,” Samuel says.

  “The question we have to answer now,” I say, “is where they’re taking the girls, and what they’re planning to do with them once they get there.”

  “We’ll take a look at the map in a little bit, but first we need to find you some food and water. You’re looking a little pale.”

  “I’m fine, Samuel.”

  He raises a brow, then leans into me and brushes his lips over mine. “I know it’s not in your nature to let anyone take care of you. But as long as I’m around, you’re going to have to get used to it.”

  After his next spine-tingling kiss, I lean back against the couch and smile at him. “Okay. Food, water, and eventually sleep do sound amazing.”

  He pulls the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Stay here. I’ll go see what I can dig up in the kitchen.”

  As I watch Samuel slip back into his black tux pants and walk shirtless through the dark cabin, I am thankful that if I have to go through this insane nightmare to find Isla, at least I have Samuel by my side.

  The fire crackling beside me lulls me to sleep. I’m not sure how long I’ve dozed off before Samuel returns with a glass of water and a box of shortbread. A troubled look passes through his eyes as he sits down next to me. “This was all I could find. The cupboards were pretty bare.”

  “This is fine, Samuel. Thank you. But is something else the matter?”

  Samuel nods slowly, not hiding the grim expression on his face. “Yes, there’s something you need to see.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Before Samuel will show me his discovery, he insists that I drink the entire glass of water and eat a few cookies. Then he helps me put on his own shirt and wraps the blanket back around my shoulders.

  “I tried all of the lamps, but nothing’s working in the storm,” Samuel says as he lights a candle, then ushers me out of the living room and down a dark, chilly hallway.

  When we reach the door at the end of the long corridor, Samuel pauses. “This may just be a coincidence, but after this insane trip, I don’t think I believe in coincidences anymore.”

  Samuel hands me the candle, then opens the creaky door. The minute I take a step into the small room, I feel the unmistakable presence of my sister. I smell her perfume. But most of all, I feel her desperation.

  I swirl around, moving the candle in all directions, positive my gaze will lock on her striking violet eyes and her long, silky chestnut waves.

  But what I find in Isla’s place sends chills snaking up my arms.

  “It’s a baby’s room,” I whisper. “A baby girl.”

  An antique white crib sits in the corner, a pale pink sheet stretching over its tiny mattress. The candle flickers as I move it around the perimeter of the room, revealing a closet stocked full of frilly baby clothes. There are tiny pink dresses, white lace-trimmed
socks, teeny black-and-white booties, and even sets of hand-knitted hats and mittens.

  Samuel places a hand on the small of my back and gestures for me to move the candle toward the wall over the crib.

  A string of carved wooden letters painted in pastel pink hangs on the nursery wall. I move the flame past each letter, until I can read the entire name.

  “Madeleine,” I whisper. “Rosie’s daughter, Madeleine. But I don’t understand. They’ve already named her? They must be planning to bring her here once Rosie gives birth.”

  “How do the Morels already know Rosie’s having a girl though?” Samuel asks. “Rosie wasn’t even showing. They couldn’t possibly know the sex of the baby.”

  “Maybe they just really want a baby girl,” I say. “But would Henri and Alexandre Morel really decorate a pink room for the baby girl they hope Rosie is going to have? If they’re planning to take her baby, wouldn’t they want a boy to be the heir to their empire and keep their family name alive?”

  “This room is not the work of a man,” Samuel agrees. “Which means that we still don’t know the whole story.”

  Samuel’s words make me think of my mysterious meetings with Georges, the chauffeur, and his twin sister, Madeleine Morel.

  “I forgot to tell you earlier, I—or we—met Madeleine’s twin brother, Georges.”

  “What are you talking about?” Samuel asks.

  As I turn to face Samuel, I wonder why I still feel as if my sister is somewhere in this creepy baby room. I know that is impossible…but then again, after our mysterious train voyage back in time to 1937, what do I know?

  “The driver who took us from the Geneva airport to the Morel Château, and who I called earlier tonight to drive me to the ferry—he was Rosie’s other child, Madeleine’s twin brother. But from what Madeleine told me at the train station, the twins never met their real mother, and they were separated at birth. Madeleine was raised to believe she was a Morel, and Georges was given up for adoption. They only just found each other a year ago, and they’ve been trying to put the pieces together. It can’t be a coincidence that I met them both right before we landed ourselves here.”