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I didn’t have enough for the luxury of a cab, so I got on a bus to a neighborhood in the middle of the city that I knew was cheap. Finding a place without a phone was a daunting task, but I had more time than money so I walked up and down the streets, making inquiries the old-fashioned way.
It took every last ruble that I was able to exchange at the airport to check into a nasty motel that I discovered down a dingy alley, but at least I felt safe from prying eyes once I was locked into the musty room. It was a far cry from what I’d grown used to in the short time I lived with Yuri. Hell, the cramped space that barely fit the creaky single bed was a far cry from my old apartment.
I curled up under the stiff blanket, punching at the lumpy mattress until I found a comfortable enough position to close my eyes. I refused to think about the past. Memories of Yuri would only make me miserable. Wasn’t this what I wanted? Freedom? Well, I had it. From both my father and my husband.
I had to shut out any regrets and get some sleep because I needed to find a job or I’d be going hungry sooner than later. I mashed the pillow over my head to try to drown out the memories of my father’s screams, finally falling into a fitful sleep.
I dreamed about the garden Yuri and I planted together. He was right about the little plants being able to withstand us rolling around on them, and they were all bright, strong blooms in my dream. I woke up the next morning with tears on my cheeks, almost suffocated by a desperate loneliness.
Chapter 19 - Yuri
That night and the entire next day passed in confusion. Ivan informed me that the warehouse burned through the night and everything inside was lost, but if it wasn’t news about Kira, I didn’t care. The first thing I did in the morning was call the cab company and try to find out where they drove her. I expected an instant answer, but apparently they had to check the records and get back with me.
Frustration made me punch a wall, something so foolish I was embarrassed, and went out to the garage to find some plaster to fix the hole I made. Anything to keep me busy. I kept my phone close, with the sound turned all the way up so there was no way I could miss a call. Did Kira even know my number if she wanted to call? I had so many regrets, and there were so many things I wished I had done differently that I could hardly stay still. I hoped she would get over her anger at me, maybe miss me and decide I wasn’t so bad, and would just come home.
Once the wall was patched, I went downstairs and sat in the little garden we’d planted, feeling a compulsion to be near the flowers we’d so happily rolled around in. God, was that only a week ago?
I had barely slept through the night and I must have dozed off in the shade outside, because I jerked awake when my phone blared from my pocket. I fumbled it out and answered it.
“Hey, Mr. Morozov? It’s Vic Serrano, from the—”
“Yes, hello Vic,” I said, surprised how smooth I sounded when I felt so ragged. He was a contact of mine from the police surveillance team I’d asked to check the traffic cams for sightings of her. “Have you found anything?”
“The only thing we could confirm on the cameras was what you already know.”
“Yes, she left in a taxi.” Irritation flared that the cab company still hadn’t gotten back to me.
“Right,” he continued. “But my girlfriend works at Miami International. She swears she saw her there last night and I tend to believe her. She’s huge into social media and follows all you rich folks so she recognized her from the wedding pics that were up a few weeks ago?”
“She’s sure it was Kira?”
“I can send you a picture she took. Hang on a second.”
A moment later a slightly blurry picture of Kira, wearing dark jeans and a gray hoodie and clutching a raggedy old backpack, loaded on my phone screen. She looked exhausted and like she was being chased by ghosts, but it was undoubtedly her.
“When was this taken?”
“Last night, maybe close to midnight?”
I swore, then apologized when he apologized, explaining his girlfriend had no idea I was looking for her. “Do you know what flight she took?”
I sighed as he called out to his girlfriend, holding my breath while I waited. Every minute felt like Kira was getting further and further away from me. I could hear the girlfriend in the background but couldn’t make out her words and had to wait for Vic to get back on to fill me in.
“She thinks it was a direct flight to JFK.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and got back on the phone, calling the private investigator our family used. “Drop whatever you’re doing,” I said, telling him his most pressing task was to immediately find out where Kira went if she did indeed land at JFK. New York was a massive, hugely populated city, making Miami seem like Mayberry, but if anyone could find her, it was our guy.
“I’m actually trying to find somebody for Ivan,” he said.
Normally that would take precedence, and I held back from taking out my frustration on him. “Surely you can agree my missing wife is more important.”
“Look, Yuri,” he said, explaining in so many words that he was more scared of my brother than he was of me. I needed that to change, and fast.
“Let me deal with Ivan. I’ll take full responsibility.”
He groaned, but I could sense he was about to give in. He began to tap on a keyboard in the background. “I need you to be quick,” I said, possibly pushing my luck out of desperation.
“There were four connecting flights right around the time she would have landed in New York,” he said, with more tapping noises filling the silence as he paused. “Las Vegas, Anchorage, Seoul, and Moscow. I bet she went to Moscow.”
