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It took her a second to place his hesitation, not a hesitation to discuss Olivia but to say the name that had been unspoken, hovering like a specter over her rescue.
Roman.
He was behind the rescue. Obviously. Maybe even in the SUV they were following through the city.
Why hadn’t he shown himself? Why had he sent Max to free her from the room?
She didn’t have time to think about it further, and anyway, her mind was fuzzy, on sensory overload as they pulled to a stop outside a sleekly renovated industrial building in a gentrified part of Brooklyn.
“Here we are,” Max said.
He got out of the car and moved around to her side of the SUV to help her out, then hurried her toward the building’s glass doors.
She looked over her shoulder at the other SUV, parked at the curb, and wondered if Roman was inside, if she would see him now.
But if he was there, he wasn’t ready to see her.
Max led her through the building’s glass doors and a nondescript lobby. It was late — the clock on the SUV’s dash had read 3:02 a.m. when she’d looked at it — but she had the feeling this lobby was always empty. That it wasn’t the type of place where residents greeted each other warmly and shared anecdotes about package delivery.
“What is this place?” she asked as they stepped into one of four elevators.
“A place where you’ll be safe,” he said, punching a code into the keypad. “Where you can rest and regroup.”
She started to mention Olivia, then closed her mouth. Max was right: Olivia would be traumatized for life if she saw Ruby in her current condition.
She would take advantage of the opportunity to clean up and get her head on straight before seeing Olivia. It was the right thing to do for her daughter even if every bone in Ruby’s body wanted to go to her now.
The elevator glided smoothly upward, mercilessly free of music, and a few seconds later the doors opened onto a quiet dimly lit vestibule.
It wasn’t until Max stepped from the elevator and looked back at her that she realized she hadn’t moved. She was suddenly frozen, terrified to take another step.
What was this place really? And why was she trusting Max and Roman when her relationship with Roman was what had gotten her into this mess?
“It’s okay,” Max said, his eyes kind. “I promise you’re safe here.”
“Where’s Roman?” she blurted.
She had the sudden urge to see him, to be shielded by his massive scarred body. It didn’t make sense, not after what had happened because of him.
“He’ll speak to you soon,” Max said. “He thought you might like some time.”
The elevator must have had some kind of sensor. The doors were still open, Ruby inside while Max coaxed her out like she was a feral animal.
Ruby’s ears pricked to the sound of a distant rhythmic clicking. It grew closer and then an older woman came into view. She was tall and imposing, her gray hair pulled back into a severe bun.
Aside from her gray slacks and black blouse, she looked like a character from a Victorian novel, a mean nanny or a nun at an orphanage.
Ruby shrank back as the woman stepped briskly into the elevator. Then she smiled and her face transformed from stern authority figure to kindly grandmother.
“It’s all right now,” she said in accented English (Russian, obviously), taking Ruby’s hand. “I’m Vera. I’m going to show you to a room where you can change and bathe.”
Ruby allowed the woman to lead her out of the elevator, past Max and down a long hallway lit softly from recesses built into the ceiling.
Ahead, Ruby saw a large open space, but Vera guided her to the right and they started down another hall lined with closed doors. They passed several of them before coming to one at the end, and Vera bent to open it, then stood back so Ruby could enter.
She hesitated — she’d just left a room that had been her prison for the last however many weeks, albeit a room that was nothing like this place — but it wasn’t like she could remain in the hall forever.
She walked into the room and saw that it was a large high-ceilinged bedroom. The bed was huge and piled high with comforters and blankets and pillows that suddenly made Ruby’s eyelids heavy. She’d had nothing to do but sleep during her captivity, but it had been the sleep of the doomed, filled with nightmares and dreams where Olivia was perpetually out of reach.
