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I barely register his words, my focus already shifting to Barb and her well-being. "I've got to go," I say quickly, ending the call without waiting for a response.
Frustration and worry twist inside me as I frantically dial Barb's number, each ring echoing in my ears like a ticking clock. When it goes to voicemail I leave a message, my voice strained with urgency. "Aunt Barb, it's Julie. Please call me back as soon as you get this. I'm worried about you."
As I'm about to redial, my phone lights up with an incoming call from my father. I decline it immediately, my fingers moving quickly to send Barb a text message. Barb, please, I need to know that you're okay. Call me.
No sooner have I hit send, Calvin tries calling again. This time, I answer with a sharp, "Stop calling me, I'm trying to get through to Barb!"
His voice, tinged with an annoying calmness, comes through. "Julie, she won't be able to answer. She's at the hospital." He tells me the name of the hospital before I can even respond.
I end the call and immediately dial the hospital's number, my fingers trembling slightly.
The conversation with the hospital staff is fruitless. They refuse to give out any information, citing privacy policies. My pleas fall on deaf ears, leaving me feeling helpless and even more anxious.
As I'm about to call Calvin back—something I never thought I'd consider—my phone rings. It's him again. I answer with a terse, "I called the hospital but I couldn't get anything out of them."
He hesitates before speaking. "Do you want me to meet you there? I can—"
"No," I cut him off sharply. "I don’t need you. Just stay away from me." The last thing I need is him complicating things further.
I hang up, my mind racing. I need to get to the hospital to find out what's happened. As I head out, I realize I also need to inform Ivan. He needs to know where I am, especially with everything that's going on.
As I hurry downstairs, the cabin feels eerily quiet, almost as if it's holding its breath. "Ivan? Fyodor?" I call out, my voice echoing in the empty space. There's no response, just the sound of my own footsteps against the hardwood floor.
I reach for my phone to call Ivan, but as it dials, a distant ringing catches my ear. I follow the sound to the kitchen, finding his phone abandoned on the table, ringing with my call. A sense of urgency grips me. Where could he have gone without his phone?
Peering out the back window, I spot two guards patrolling the area. Their presence is somewhat reassuring, but it doesn't help my current dilemma.
I need to leave, now. Without a second thought, I quickly scribble a note to Ivan:
Ivan, I had to go. It's Barb, she's in the hospital. I couldn't reach you. I'll call as soon as I know more.
Julie
My hands are shaking as I leave the note on the table.
I grab my coat as I head out the door. The cold air hits me like a slap. I'm terrified, my thoughts a jumble of fear and worry. I'm not thinking straight, but I know that I need to get to Barb. She's always been there for me, and now it's my turn to be there for her.
I sneak around the guards’ SUV, praying that they left the keys somewhere inside. Quietly, I open the door and hunch down, looking in the cup holders, under the visor, beneath the floor mat. I check the console and… yes! There they are.
As I start the car, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The engine roars to life, a steady rhythm in the midst of my turmoil. As I pull out of the driveway, the cabin and frantically running guards slowly disappear behind me, and I focus on the road ahead.
Chapter 31
Ivan
Deputy Director William Hargrove arrives at the cabin, his presence commanding and imposing. He's a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties, with a stern, weathered face that speaks of years spent in the field. His eyes are sharp, scanning the surroundings with a practiced eye, missing nothing. His hair is a salt-and-pepper crew cut, and he moves with military precision.
"Deputy Director Hargrove," I greet him, extending a hand.
"Mr. Stepanov,” he nods, shaking my hand with a firm grip. His gaze shifts to Fyodor briefly before settling back on me.
We convene in the basement, a space that feels both secure and isolated, perfect for the confidential nature of our meeting. The atmosphere is tense, charged with the significance of what we're about to discuss.
“Let’s get straight to the point,” Hargrove kicks it off. “This mission is high-risk. You need to be fully aware of what you’re getting into.”
I nod, my expression serious. “I understand the risks. I’m ready to do what’s necessary to bring this asshole down.”
Hargrove nods, pulling out a small device from his briefcase. “This is the latest in covert recording technology. It’s virtually undetectable, but if Boris’ men decide to pat you down, it could still be found, depending on how thorough they are. You need to be prepared for that possibility.”
