1
The woman’swrists told Dr. Harper Fox everything she needed to know.
Bruises circled both, dark purple shading to yellow at the edges beneath the fluorescent light. Five days old, maybe six. The pattern was unmistakable—ligature marks from prolonged restraint. Harper had seen similar injuries during her rotation in the ER back in London. Domestic violence cases. Women who’d been held down.
She kept her face neutral as she cleaned the abrasions on the woman’s forearms. The small examination room smelled of antiseptic and the dusty-burned smell of the portable heater struggling against the Siberian cold. Through the thin walls, Darya, her translator, was speaking rapid Russian to someone in the waiting area.
“Can you tell me how this happened?” Harper kept her voice gentle as she applied antibiotic ointment to the broken skin.
The woman stared at the floor. Polina Lebedeva. Hospitality worker, according to Harper’s paperwork. She was only twenty-two, her auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun. Dark circles shadowed the skin beneath her eyes.
“I fell.” Polina’s Russian was barely a whisper. “At work.”
Harper’s medical training kicked in before common sense could stop it. “These bruises on your wrists?—”
“I fell.” The woman’s voice was colorless. “I’m clumsy. The floors were wet.” Her fingers worried the hem of her sleeve, twisting the cheap fabric until the seam strained.
Harper opened her mouth to push, then read the fear in Polina’s eyes.
The exam room door opened, and Polina flinched. Darya stuck her head in, her weathered face carefully blank. “The men are waiting for her, Doctor. They have another appointment.”
“I’m not finished.”
“They’re waiting,” Darya repeated, and something in her tone made Harper’s stomach clench.
She wrapped Polina’s forearms in gauze. The way she folded into herself—shoulders curved inward like she was apologizing for taking up space—struck something hot and furious inside Harper.
“You should come back in three days.” Harper wrote on Polina’s chart. “So I can check the healing.”
Polina nodded but didn’t look up.
Harper walked her out to the waiting area. Two men sat on the plastic chairs, smoking beneath theNo Smokingsign she’d put up in her first week. They wore heavy coats and expressions of bored patience. When Polina appeared, the taller one stood, flicking his cigarette onto the floor.
“All finished?” His English was accented but confident.
“She needs to come back for a follow-up.” Harper dug her hands into the pockets of her white coat.
“Of course, Doctor. We’ll make sure she does.” He smiled, showing large teeth. “Come, Polina. The van is outside.”
Harper watched through the clinic’s front window as they walked Polina to a white panel van. Three other women sat inthe back, all around Polina’s age, all with the same downcast eyes.
She’d always believed people showed you what they needed if you paid close enough attention, and Polina’s wrists had told her everything.
Darya appeared at Harper’s shoulder. “You should not ask too many questions.”
“Those injuries?—”
“Mining towns are rough,” Darya said. “Girls get hurt.” She straightened chairs without looking at Harper. “You learn not to notice certain things.”
Harper stared at her. Darya had worked in this region for twenty years, first as a nurse in Ulaanbaatar, then here after she married a Russian mechanic. She knew the border towns, the mining operations, the rhythms of life in a place most people only saw on maps.
“Those were restraint marks, Darya. Prolonged restraint?—"
“There are things here you can survive seeing.” Darya’s gaze flicked to hers. “And things you can’t. Excuse me. I have to clean the other exam room.” Darya walked away, her shoes scuffing on the cracked linoleum.
Harper stood alone in the waiting area, breathing in wet wool and cigarette smoke. The cigarette butt smoldered on the floor. She crushed it under her boot, the knot in her chest constricting, then headed outside to where the men were closing the rear doors of the van.
Diesel fumes hung low in the frozen air, and Harper was halfway across the lot before she realized she hadn’t taken her parka. She pulled her white coat tight and took shallow breaths through the cold.
