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He sighs, tapping away on his computer. “Sorry, there’s no guest by that name.”
Alek places a picture of her on the desk. It’s one we took when we first discussed sending her on the boat. She looks thin, tired, and dirty. Lenard looks at it, shaking his head. “No, she doesn’t look familiar.”
“Listen,” I say, leaning closer, “I’m fresh out of patience today. I know you used to help her, Lenny.” He bristles at my words. “And I know she came running to you for help. Now, I need to know where she is, and if you don’t tell me, I’ll start causing a scene.”
He glances at my men, probably weighing up his options. When he realises there are none, he says, “She came here a few days ago. Stayed one night and left. I have no idea where she is now.”
“Was she alone?”
“Yes.”
He’s telling me the truth. I see it in his eyes. “Lucky for you, Lenny, I believe you. But if I find out you’re lying to me, I will kill you.” I smile tightly and turn towards the exit.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GRACE
Ireland is beautiful. I landed here two weeks ago, arriving at Dublin airport and hiring a car to head straight for Portmarnock. I chose somewhere coastal, and I plan to move along the coastline as the weeks pass. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stay in one place and settle, just in case Ivan should start looking for me. I have no way of knowing if he’ll do that, but my gut tells me he will.
I found a small holiday cottage to rent which is just a short walk from the beach, and I’ve fallen in love. If I could choose the ideal place to settle for the rest of my life, it would be here.
I step out onto the porch and settle on the swing chair. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, relaxing for the first time in months.
My mind wanders to Ivan. I hate not knowing if he’s dead or alive. I’ve purchased a newspaper every day just in case his death is reported, and as I open it now, flicking through the pages, disappointment creep in. There’s nothing here again, and I’m back to not knowing. That feeling is quickly replaced with anger. Anger at myself for even caring if he’s dead or alive. Anger that a large part of me is relieved there’s no headline to report his death. Because that means he’s probably still alive, and my heart jumps at the thought. My traitorous heart is a fool.
I walk over to the payphone across the street. It’s such a busy seaside town, people don’t pay any attention to me as I sculk around with my hood up.
I put my coin in the pay slot and straighten out the crumpled piece of paper with the phone number Lenny gave me. I dial, and he answers on the second ring. “Grace?” he asks urgently.
“Lenny,” I say, unable to stop my smile. I needed a friendly, familiar voice. “I just wanted to tell you I’ve—”
“Don’t tell me,” he cuts in, and the words die on my tongue. “Don’t tell me where you are. There’re people looking for you. Bad people.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “Are you okay?” I’d never forgive myself if they hurt Lenny.
“I’m fine. I had to tell them you came to see me. I told them I didn’t know where you’d gone to, that’s why I don’t want you to tell me.”
“Thank you.”
“They’ve been back every day.”
“And they haven’t hurt you?”
“No. Not yet.”
A sob escapes me. “Oh, Lenny, I’m so sorry. I’ve dragged you into it, and now, you’re in danger.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. But you can’t call me again, Grace. Not for some time.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Was he Russian?” I ask. “One of the men looking for me?”
“Ivan Morozov. He left me his card. I’m supposed to call if you get in touch.” My breath catches in my throat, and my heart swells. I quickly shut it down because I have no business feeling like. But at least I know he’s alive.
“You should call him, Lenny. Tell him to stop following me because I’ll just keep running.”
I disconnect, noticing my hands are shaking. A part of me is relieved to know he’s okay. The other part is sick with worry. Knowing he’s looking for me, having it confirmed, scares the hell out of me because now I know I have to keep moving.
I’m on the porch of the pretty little cottage, drinking tea and looking at a map. I’m trying to work out my next stop when the telephone rings inside. I don’t think too much of it, assuming it’ll probably be the owner, so when I answer it, I’m not expecting to hear his voice. “Grace.” It rumbles, and I briefly close my eyes as pain stabs at my heart.
