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Yes, I was grasping at straws at that point. At close to eleven o’clock now I was definitely worried, but I fully expected to find her at home once I returned there. My heart sank when she wasn’t.
I cursed myself for not letting her have a phone. It had seemed a big concession letting her use the internet for her classes, but she knew full well I was checking her search histories and keeping a watchful eye on who she might be contacting. A phone would have given her far too much freedom. The very thing she craved the most and what I constantly denied her.
Feeling like shit, I got in touch with some of the people on the police force who did favors for us when we needed to track someone down without too much fanfare. They promised to start searching traffic cameras near the restaurant and get back to me. I didn’t know what else to do but wait and hope she came back. Even if she was falling down drunk, I vowed not to be mad at her. In fact I was ready to apologize.
Close to midnight, Ivan called, and for some bizarre reason I thought she might be with him. I answered, my chest tight, praying he was about to tell me to come pick her up.
“The warehouse was attacked,” he told me.
“What? How? Are you still there?”
“No way. Too risky. I’ve got someone from the fire department reporting what’s happening.”
“Fire department?” I was confused. “Not a shootout with Artur’s guys?”
“Nope, somebody blew up the place. The fire’s still raging. We don’t know if anyone was in there yet. It’s an inferno right now.”
I swore and took a deep breath. I truly didn’t give a crap about the warehouse or the mysterious delivery. I didn’t want to add to Ivan’s worries, but we didn’t keep secrets from each other. “I don’t know where Kira is,” I admitted. “It’s been hours and I’m getting worried.”
“She’s not answering her phone?”
“She doesn’t have one,” I said, feeling like shit all over again.
Ivan was silent so long I checked to see if the call had been dropped. He finally answered. “Damn it, Yuri. You might need to be pissed instead of worried.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Hmmm. Orlov’s shipment blew up and now Kira is missing? Use your head.”
“Do you think she’s in trouble?”
“I think she had something to do with it, idiot. You need to find your damn wife.”
I told him where he could go and hung up. He didn’t know anything. Did he? I remembered I gave her my credit card and hurriedly called the company, angry I hadn’t thought of that earlier. They were able to tell me the name of the car service she used and that twelve hundred dollars was withdrawn from an ATM. The maximum allowed amount.
Oh, shit. I was so shocked, I slid to the floor and leaned against the wall, dropping my head into my hands.
The very first chance she got, she ran. Was I right to not trust her or did she leave because I didn’t? Ivan was right, I should have been pissed. And I was. Very much so. But worse, I was hurt, and the pain in my heart was much stronger than my anger.
Chapter 18 - Kira
There were nightmares I used to have as a child where I was running from a monster, but my feet seemed like they were made of lead and the ground seemed to drag me backwards, no matter how I strained to get away. There were always silent, looming hands just behind me, waiting to grab me at their leisure, because try as I might, in those dreams, I could never gain any speed.
That was how it felt as I tore past the warehouses and wound through the giant stacks of shipping containers. The faster I tried to move and the harder my heart pounded in my chest, I still couldn’t seem to distance myself from those horrible screams. I feared they’d be lodged in my ears forever.
I made it to a place that was less desolate and where I might be able to find a ride. I leaned against a wall, pressing my hands to my chest and gulping in huge lungfuls of air. Trying to keep my heart from climbing out of my throat.
The monster was gone. I had slain it with my own hands. The realization hung heavy on my shoulders but I forced my feet to move again, until I was finally able to hail a passing taxi to take me to the airport. I tried to act like someone who hadn’t just committed a heinous act, but I couldn’t stop shaking and cold sweat poured from my brow. The driver was glad to let me out at the first terminal at Miami International and I collapsed onto a bench near the ticket booths, staring at the departure screen for several minutes, still in a daze.
I realized I had to keep moving, had to get out of the city. There was a flight to New York where I could make a different connection, and I paid with my cash, having to run again to get on the plane. Once again I had to put on the mask of a normal person, smiling at the flight attendants without looking like I was baring my teeth, forcing down the offered cookie and pretzels along with a ginger ale. The snack seemed to calm my nerves a bit and I even loaded a movie on the screen set into the seatback, but didn’t take in a word of it.
Even though it initially felt like time had stopped once the plane was in the air, the three hour flight went by in a blink, startling me out of my stupor when the wheels hit the tarmac. I wandered JFK airport, finally deciding the safest place to go would be the place no one would think to look for me. Back where I began. The ticket to Moscow cost almost every last dime I had, but I didn’t have to wait too long before it took off. My heart would have given out if I’d had to sit around until the following day, certain Yuri would use his vast resources to find me.
If he cared enough to start looking. Once he found out what I did, I would surely be dead to him.
I couldn’t think about Yuri, it hurt too much. I didn’t want to think about anything and, as soon as the plane was in the air, I pulled the thin, scratchy blanket over my head and tried to sleep. I wasn’t sure if I did. The loud hum of the engine lulled me, but my shock over what I’d done kept me from getting any real rest.
As much as I thought I hated Moscow, it was actually strangely reassuring to be back home. A real sense of relaxation settled on me at the sounds of my native tongue buzzing all around in the crowded airport, and I even managed a real smile at the familiarity of the gray, overcast afternoon. You never saw such a leaden sky in Miami, not even when hurricanes threatened the shores. Like it or not, I was a Russian, and I was home once again. It was better that I be as positive as possible and not think about endless sunshine and clear blue water.
