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“No, sir.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, racing for the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Tima asks when I skid to a stop in the middle of the floor.
“Is Katerina here?”
“No,” he says, frowning.
Still clutching my phone, I spear my fingers through my hair. “She’s gone.”
His face collapses, his eyes and mouth drawing down. “How long?”
“Not more than ten minutes.”
He moves a carving knife aside and leans his palms on the counter. “She could be hiding in the house.”
“I’m having the property searched.”
“If she’s not…” He looks at me from under his eyebrows.
“Then she slipped out while the emergency with Dania was unfolding.” I feel sick merely saying those words.
“She couldn’t have walked through the gates. The guards would’ve noticed.”
I grit my teeth. “They also would’ve noticed if she’d gotten into one of the cars. She must be in the house.”
He sucks air through his teeth.
“What?” I ask.
“If she’s not in the house and nobody saw her leaving, you have to assume she left with Mikhail.”
I slam a fist on the table. “Mikhail would never do that. He knows I’d kill him.”
“What about Dania?” Tima asks, his eyes narrowing into slits.
“Dania was puking out her lungs.”
“There’s something wrong with this poisoning scenario.” Straightening, he crosses his arms. “I’ve administered a few poisons in my day, and I can tell you that if Dania had been poisoned at breakfast, the symptoms she was having wouldn’t have kicked in three hours later. They would’ve manifested almost straight away.”
I still. “Are you saying she was poisoned here?”
“It couldn’t have been the cake. Lena brought four empty plates back to the kitchen, so you all ate the cake, right? What did Dania drink or eat that no one else did?”
I slide my gaze toward the drip rack where the teacups and teapot are stacked. “Herbal tea.”
The knowledge sinks into my gut like a stone. I know it instinctively as I walk to the drip rack and lift the teapot to peer inside.
“Lena washed it already,” Tima says. “She cleans the porcelain with bleach to remove the tea stains.”
“Thereby removing all traces of the contents inside,” I say slowly, uncontrollable rage unfurling in my chest.
He gives me a level look. “Exactly.”
My voice is calm, not betraying the violence flowing through my veins. “Bring her here.”
Tima rounds the counter and walks down the hallway.
I dial Igor.
He answers with, “There’s no sign of her yet.”
“Check all the passenger manifests for domestic and international flights. I want men at every station and airport in St. Petersburg. Katerina may have left with Mikhail’s entourage.”
“Fuck. I’m on it.”
Next, I dial Nelsky. “I want the satellite surveillance footage of my house from the last thirty minutes. Send it to my phone.”
I cut the call when Tima leads Lena in by her arm.
She yanks her bicep from his hold and lifts her chin. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Volkov?”
I walk to the counter. “How long have you worked for me, Lena?”
“Since you bought the house, sir.”
Taking the knife Tima was using, I study the blade in the light. “That makes it quite a few years.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, looking down her nose at Tima, who stands wide-legged in front of her, effectively blocking her path should she get it into her head to run.
“Are you loyal, Lena?”
She meets my gaze head-on. “Yes, sir.”
“To whom?” I ask, wiping the knife on my sleeve.
She swallows visibly.
I approach her. “Were you loyal to the previous owners?”
“I was, sir,” she says with a tremor in her voice.
“Why?” I ask, circling her.
“Sir?”
“Why?” I repeat, placing emphasis on the word. “What made you loyal to them?”
She blinks. “They were of royal descent. They were suitable inhabitants for this house.”
I raise a brow. “And I’m not?”
She utters an uncomfortable laugh. “You’re the new owner, sir.”
Stopping in front of her, I look her dead in the eye. “Did you poison Dania?”
She blinks.
My patience is running low. “Did you or did you not put poison in her tea?”
No reply.
She utters a shriek when I fist my hand in her hair and push her to her knees. Stepping behind her, I pull back her head and press the sharp edge of the blade against her neck.
“Answer me, Lena, or I swear I’ll gut you like a pig.”
She grips my forearm and tries to pull it away. “Please, Mr. Volkov.”
“Answer me. You know I never bluff.”
“It was D-Dania’s idea,” she stutters out, spittle flying. “She told me to put the wormwood in her tea.”
“Why?” I ask, pressing the blade until I draw a thin line of blood.
“Please…” Her throat works with a swallow, tears spilling down her cheeks. “She wanted to help Miss Morrell escape.”
Rage blurs her features in my vision. “Did Katerina ask Dania for help?”
“I d-don’t know,” she blubbers.
I give her hair a yank. “Why did you do it?”
Tima regards her with disdain, his face pulled into an expression of disgust. “Because she’s a royalist.”
