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Ice fills my chest. “Them?”
“Two fellas, about your height. Came by yesterday, late in the day. Showed me her picture and all. I told them I only saw her that one time, and I have no idea where she went—”
“What did they look like, exactly?” Pavel cuts in as I stand frozen, my mind racing a mile a second.
They’re here.
They know she was here.
Worse yet, they know she was looking at my job listing.
“The two fellas? Well, tall, like I said. One’s got dark hair, a little lighter than his”—she waves at me—“the other’s more like you. You know, salt and pepper, except kind of balding.”
Pavel’s jaw tightens. “Age? Race? Body build?”
“Caucasian. Thirties—forties for the older one, maybe. Kind of big and muscular.” She looks me up and down. “Not as pretty as him, that’s for sure.”
“Anything else?” Pavel demands. “Tattoos, scars? What were they wearing?”
“Jeans, I think. Or khakis? I don’t remember for sure. Black or gray shirts, maybe navy blue. Something dark. No scars, I don’t think. Oh, but”—she brightens—“the older one had a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. I saw the edge of it under his sleeve.”
“Did they ask about the job listing?” I ask, keeping my voice even despite the rage and fear pounding through me.
I have to know how bad the situation is, how close they are to finding her.
The woman nods. “Sure did. Wanted to know all about it, who and what and where. I told them I don’t know for sure, but it was probably that old Jamieson property up in the mountains, the one that was bought out by that rich Russian. Say”—she squints up at Pavel—“where’s that accent of yours from? You boys wouldn’t happen to be from—”
“Thank you,” I say tersely and pull out my phone to call Konstantin as we hurry back to the car.
As soon as my brother picks up, I rattle off the description we’ve gotten and demand an update on the search.
It’s infinitely more urgent that we find Chloe now, before the assassins do.
“Nothing yet,” Konstantin says. “In fact— Wait a minute. Let me call you back. I think we just got a hit.”
I was about to jump into the SUV, but now I pace in front of it, my adrenaline levels climbing with each passing second.
We may already be too late.
They know about my compound and Chloe’s interest in it.
Maybe they weren’t camped out by the gate when she drove out, but they couldn’t have been far.
Spinning around, I rap on the window next to Pavel. “Get a medical team over to the compound,” I tell him tersely. “We might need it.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I snatch it up. “Yeah?”
“No sightings, but we got a partially erased tape,” Konstantin reports. “Same digital signature as the others. Two hours wiped out—and it looks like it was done about a half hour ago. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ve caught her scent and don’t want anyone to know that.”
I’m already halfway inside the car. “Where’s the tape from?”
“A gas station some forty miles west of you. I’ll send you the coordinates.”
I hang up and order Kirilov to hit the gas.
50
Chloe
The road blurs in front of my eyes for the umpteenth time, and I jerkily wipe at the wetness on my cheeks. I don’t know why I can’t stop the tears from coming, why my chest aches like I’ve just lost Mom all over again. The banana I picked up at a gas station is lying on the passenger seat, half-eaten, and though it’s the only food I’ve had today, the thought of taking another bite makes me want to vomit.
I’m driving blindly again, heading nowhere. I must’ve been in shock for the first couple of hours because I can barely recall how I got here. I know I filled up the car somewhere, because the fuel gauge shows the tank is full, but I have only a vague recollection of walking into a dingy store and paying. The banana came from there, I’m sure—I grabbed it on autopilot—but I don’t remember eating it, though I must have.
I’m pretty sure they don’t sell half-eaten fruit, even at the dingiest of gas stations.
The road ahead of me slopes up and curves sharply, and I force myself to concentrate. The last thing I need is to drive off a cliff. As is, I feel like that’s more or less what I’m doing with every mile of distance I’m putting between myself and Nikolai.
I did the right thing, the smart thing.
I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t help, doesn’t lessen the feeling that I’ve made a terrible mistake. It’s only been a few hours since I left, yet I miss him so acutely it’s as if we’ve been apart for months. When he was away on the business trip, I knew I’d see him again, knew we’d speak each evening, but there’s no such certainty now.
