Page 210

I think about the day Elara arrived at the house, when she was still a stranger with blood on her clothes and Anya’s hand wrapped around hers. I think about how quickly Anya trusted her, how quickly I did the same without admitting it. Since then, Elara has become part of every decision I make, and my thoughts as I carry them to Anya’s bed.

I think about the pool. The missing minutes of footage. The charm near the fountain. Kirill’s lie about being nowhere near the garden.

Then I think about the car.

We had found it abandoned with changed plates and a wiped interior. The driver had used the maintenance truck to create an opening, waited until Anya reached the entrance, and then accelerated instead of braking.

I remember watching the footage, forcing Sergei to replay the impact. Even now, I remember Elara hitting the ground more clearly than anything he told me afterward.

There had been photographs of the recovered car, too. Damage to the front, a scrape along the paint, the plates someone had fitted before abandoning it. Then the owner’s statement and an earlier photograph supplied with his insurance paperwork.

I lift my head.

The photograph showed the sedan outside the garage. I remember looking at it because the front was still undamaged. Sergei had put it beside the recovery photographs, and I had moved between them, comparing the dent and the scrape.

The plates had been the same.

I reach for my phone, then hesitate with my thumb over Sergei’s name. I’ve looked at enough photographs over the past few weeks to confuse two of them. I need the originals in front of me.

But the date beneath that picture had been earlier than the theft. I remember wondering briefly why it was included, then turning the page when Sergei began discussing the school footage.

Anya shifts in her sleep. I wait until she settles before making the call.

“Pull up the sedan file,” I say quietly when Sergei answers. “The photograph supplied with the owner’s insurance paperwork. Compare its plates with the ones on the car when we recovered it.”

I stand and move toward the window, keeping my voice away from her bed.

“Then verify when that photograph was taken. I want to know whether those plates were already on it before he says it was stolen.”

“What are you saying?” Sergei asks, sounding flabbergasted.

“I’m seeing the owner was in on it. He’s the only person who knows who’s trying to get Anya killed.”

28

ELARA

Anya falls asleep against my shoulder before we reach the gates.

I leave my arm where it is even though my fingers have started to go numb. She has spent most of the drive insisting she isn’t tired, listing everything she intends to do when she gets home. Now her mouth is slightly open, and the rabbit slips from her lap whenever the car turns.

I catch it and tuck it beside her.

Nikolai should be here for this.

I check my phone again. My last message is still unanswered.

They’re discharging her. Are you coming?

That was nearly two hours ago. He hasn’t answered the one I sent after it either.

For the past five days, he has barely left the hospital. He sleeps in the chair beside Anya’s bed, eats whatever I put in front of him, and asks the doctors questions until they have to repeat themselves. This morning, he left before I arrived, and nobody will tell me where he went.

Anya lifts her head when the car stops. “Are we home?”

“We are. Take your time.”

She reaches for the door, and I catch her hand.