The Music Box

Part 2

Charlotte stood in the airport baggage check line, fidgeting with her papers and looking around nervously. She smoothed out her newly cut and dyed hair and bit her lip. Shivers ran throughout her body. Finally it was her turn and she approached the luggage scale.

"Bonjour," said the very attractive worker in front of her. "Let me weigh that for you." He took her suitcase and lifted it onto the scale and they both watched the numbers flit back and forth indecisively. Finally the numbers stopped moving and settled on a weight. "Looks good," he said. "You're all set."

"Merci," Charlotte thanked him, nodding and then taking off towards security.

She kept her head down as she walked, paranoid that she would be recognized.

All she had with her was a small purse that contained a fake ID and passport. She'd ditched her phone for fear of it being traced. She was wearing a knee-length knit dress with black tights and a loose sweater. And despite her change in appearance, including blonde hair and green colored contacts, she felt terribly exposed and in danger.

When she reached the security checkpoint she went up to the airport worker slowly.

"May I see your ID?" he asked in the monotone that comes from asking the same question twenty times a day.

Hands shaking uncontrolably, Charlotte handed over the fake ID.

Her heart pounded as he compared it to her boarding pass. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

"Corinne Wald?" he asked, confirming her name.

Charlotte nodded. She held her breath.

"All right, go ahead."

A breath of relief escaped her lips before she could stop it. The man looked at her strangely. She smiled and thanked him and moved past him swiftly.

She removed her black high heels and placed them in the plastic bin along with her purse, and then slid the bin onto the belt. After stepping throught the body senser she grabbed her belongings and walked away from the security guards as quickly as possible without looking obvious.

Almost there, she thought. Once I get on the plane I'll be safe.

She abruptly lost her train of thought when a man that seemed to be in quite a hurry bumped into her from behind, causing her to loose her footing and tumble to the floor.

"Oh! Je suis desole," the man exclaimed, holding out a hand to the embarrased and flustered Charlotte.

Her face burning, Charlotte accepted his outstreched hand and rose steadily. "Je vous pardonne," she mumbled, head still down. She tried to walk away without any further engagement but the man followed her.

"Are you sure you're okay? I really am sorry. That was entirely rude of me," he said.

She shrugged off his helping hand, still not making eye contact, and continued walking. "Really, it's fine."

Finally he stood in front of her, blocking her way. "I'm Vincent."

Charlotte's head snapped up. Vincent? The man who was hunting her for her music box? The Vincent that murdered Iven? Panic rolled through her. She backed away, a look of utter horror plastered on her face.

Vincent's expression portrayed a look of extreme confusion at her reaction to his name. "I'm sorry, did I say something?" he asked.

Charlotte had begun to turn and run, but them stopped abruptly, her heart rate slowing. How silly she had been. Of course this was not the Vincent that was looking for her. There were more than one Vincents in Paris. She allowed herself to calm down and took a deep breath.