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I peek out the window and see the rusted remnants of a fire escape. “Do you think someone could have carried them down this fire escape?”
Yasha looks out the window, assessing. Finally he nods. “Yeah, I do. Why?”
“Because if I was in charge of getting two women out of this apartment without being seen, I would have drugged them inside and carried them down the stairs myself. Fewer variables that way.”
“You think it was a two-person job?”
I nod. “That’s a possibility. Or…”
Yasha spins around, brow furrowed. “You’re not really saying what I think you are, right? I watched that girl around you for two weeks. If she is guilty of anything, it’s not spying; it’s being in love with you.”
I shake my head and grit my teeth. “Or she was just a good fucking actress.”
“This is ridiculous. Look around, Ivan. Look at this place!” Yasha throws his arms wide. “I don’t think you’re seeing this clearly. The place is trashed. We both heard that screaming.”
The sound of it is still echoing in my ears.
So is the thought that something isn’t right.
“Francia went missing. As we were checking on that, Cora and Jorden go missing. And all three of them are gone without a trace. Without any witnesses. Without anyone seeing anything.” I shake my head. “How could someone do this without help them from the inside?”
Yasha snorts. “Who exactly would Cora be working for? Need I remind you, we found her when she was a waitress in a diner. I’ve been looking into her family and the biggest bombshell I’ve found is that her stepdad shares a few acquaintances with you. Not exactly surprising considering you know everyone.”
As Yasha is talking, a thought occurs to me.
“What’s her stepdad’s name?”
“Alexander McAllister.”
“Look for a connection between him and Mikhail Sokolov.”
Yasha pulls out his phone, but I can tell he thinks I’m just jealous and overprotective. Mikhail cornered Cora in a club one night—so what? It’s not a big deal.
I’m half-convinced that he’s probably right. Maybe it’s easier for me to think that Cora left of her own free will than to face the fact that I failed her.
I watch Yasha scrolling and typing away. Then, suddenly, he goes still. The blood drains from his face.
“I—” He swallows and starts again. “I kept searching for Cora’s name alongside Alexander’s, but nothing appeared. No one had any clue who she was and there were no red flags with her stepdad. It all seemed normal…”
I bounce on my heels, waiting for the “but.”
Yasha shakes his head. “But you’re going to want to see this.”
He holds his phone out to me, and I reach for it with numb fingers. I’m operating on autopilot. I’m floating outside of my own body, watching myself move through the motions.
The screen is lit up, filled with some throwaway article from a boring socialite-style gossip rag. But there’s a photo in the center.
Of Cora.
She’s in a frilly pink and white gown that makes her look like Little Bo Peep, and she’s standing next to a man. She’s standing next to…
“Mikhail Sokolov,” I grit out. “How the fuck didn’t we catch this earlier?She knew him.”
And she didn’t tell me.
I dragged Mikhail off of her and had him thrown out of The Coop, and Cora didn’t breathe a word. She never told me she knew him. Mikhail didn’t mention it either when I was at the Sokolov Estate. Konstantin said that Mikhailhad the pleasure of meetingmy fiancée. He didn’t mention they’d already met.
“Like I said, I searched forCora’sname,” Yasha repeats. Then he tips his head to the phone. “Read the article.”
