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“My head got hit with a hammer. Someone—someone…”
“Stay with me, ma’am.” The doctor had said those same words—stay with me—to Amory. “What color’s your house? Is there a gate?”
“Yes, a gate,” the doctor said. “The code is… I forget.”
“Tell me the code,” the man said.
“I can, I can.” She then had a moment of clarity. “Four seven two…”
“Four seven two.”
“Zero, zero, five.” She thought that was it. She wasn’t sure, wasn’t even sure of her own name. Then she said barely, “It’s my son’s birthday.”
“Today?”
“The code. The code’s his birthday.”
“Ma’am, the police are on the way.”
“No,” the doctor told him, annoyed. “Forget the police. We need an ambulance. Me and the girl.”
“What’s your name?”
“Josh.”
“Can you give me your name?”
“Josh,” said the doctor.
“Your name is Josh?”
“Tell the police to find my son.”
And that was the last thing she said on the phone. She dropped the handset, fell to the floor; all went white, and then all went black.
Epilogue
CHAPTER 38
THREE MONTHS LATER
IF A GROUP of men appeared out of nowhere and headed toward her, Sophie Poplov knew to run.
She ran down the sidewalk, past the broad lawns of Hudson Street in Hancock Park. The Hollywood flats.
Back toward the Sumners’ house. She was fast. The older suits sent the young one ahead to chase Sophie. The blond one who looked like a boy. Who looked like he was Ivan’s age. Why was she running? He was bewildered.
The tallest pressed in on the driver’s side of Masha’s car, and the thicker one guarded the front bumper, so Masha was stuck. She couldn’t drive off.
“Mrs. Poplov!” the boyish man called from down the sidewalk. Transforming into a track star, he gained on her fast.
Sophie ducked behind the Sumners’ tall hedge and sprinted up the driveway toward the garage. It was wide open. She knew it would be.
She would outrun him. She would not let this gentleman catch her. No one would harm her, or her son, ever again. If any man stood in her way, or any girl, she’d do what she had to do. Again.
In the garage, she wound her way through the bicycles, boxes, and trash bins. In the back, she ducked behind a trailer that held a sleek wooden boat. She squatted and slipped her hand into her purse. She felt for her gun, gripped the handle, and whispered, “Commend me, commend me to thy gracious protection…”
The young suit followed her into the garage, panting and looking around. How could he have possibly lost this woman? He took off his shades.
