“So my dad is okay?” I press, pushing aside the memory of the horrifying pictures on Peter’s phone. “He didn’t look sick or anything?”
“Both of your parents looked fine, perfectly healthy.” Peter’s expression warms further as his palms cover my tightly clenched hands. “They’ll be okay, ptichka. They’re strong, like you. And you’ll be able to contact them soon. Anton and Yan just left on a supply run, and when they return, we’ll have what we need to set up a secure connection. You’ll talk to your parents, reassure them, and they’ll be okay.” He squeezes my hands gently. “Everything will be okay.”
I pull my hands away, my eyes prickling with a sudden onslaught of emotion. This, right here, is what makes things so confusing. A man who abducts you isn’t supposed to care about your family, much less give a damn about your feelings. What Peter did to me—everything he did to me—are the actions of a cruel, selfish monster, yet when he’s with me, looking at me like this, it’s easy to believe that he loves me, that in his own strange, overpowering way, he wants to make me happy.
Pushing the dangerous thought away, I rein in my unruly emotions and focus on the topic at hand. “But what exactly did the FBI say? And how did my parents respond to what they told them? They must’ve had a ton of questions—”
“They did, but all Ryson told them is that they’re looking for the man who’s with you, and they can’t disclose why. For the most part, he and the other agents questioned your parents, drilling them about the specifics of your phone call, whether you did or said anything unusual in the past few months, why you stopped the house sale, and so on.”
“Right.” Because they now suspect me. They think I’m having an affair with my husband’s murderer—which, in a way, I am. An unwilling affair, sure, but that doesn’t change the facts. I could’ve gone to the FBI at any time, explained the situation and asked for their protection, but instead, I convinced myself that it would be safer for my parents if I handled my lethal stalker on my own. And who knows? Maybe I was right. Given the authorities’ inability to protect the others on Peter’s list, he might’ve found me and my parents if we’d tried to disappear. And then more people could’ve gotten hurt—if not my family, then the agents assigned to protect us.
The three guards who watched over George did end up with bullets in their heads.
“Can I watch the video myself?” I ask, pushing away the awful recollection, and Peter nods.
“If you want. I’ll set it up for you on the TV later today.” He waves toward the large flatscreen hanging in the living room. “In the meantime, I have to catch up on some work, so feel free to walk around and explore.”
I blink, unable to believe it could be so easy. “Okay, I will,” I say, trying to conceal my excitement.
If I’m allowed to explore on my own, I can escape as soon as today.
Recalling my bare feet, I glance down and wiggle my toes. “Do you think I can borrow some shoes?” I ask as casually as I can.
“Yan is buying you everything today, but you can try wearing my sneakers for now. If you lace them tightly enough, they shouldn’t fall off.”
“All right, I’ll try that, thanks.” I slide off the barstool and hurry toward the stairs, anxious to get on with my exploration.
“Oh, and Sara?” Peter calls out when I’m almost by the staircase. When I turn to look at him, he says, “If you go outside, take Ilya with you. You don’t know the area, and there are cliffs everywhere. You don’t want to fall.”
And oblivious to my deflating excitement, he opens the laptop, his attention on the screen once more.
8
Sara
* * *
Bundled in Peter’s thick sweatshirt that goes down to my knees, and with my feet sliding around inside Peter’s giant sneakers, I step carefully through the woods, Ilya at my side. He’s talking to me, telling me something about local vegetation, but I only half-listen, focusing on memorizing the way to the trail I spotted to the west. It’s wide enough to let a vehicle through and appears to lead down the mountain.
“—but was blocked by the landslide,” Ilya rumbles, and I snap to attention, realizing he’s telling me something useful.
“A landslide?”
His shaved head bobs. “Yes, from the earthquake. It had a big impact here, completely changed this mountain.”
“Changed it how?” I ask, hugging myself to draw the sweatshirt closer to my body. It’s less windy here among the trees than by the house, but it’s still cold from the high elevation. We’ve been walking in wide circles around the house for almost an hour, and I’m ready to head back inside, where it’s warm.
With the Russian assassin dogging my heels, I won’t escape today anyway, and when I do, I’ll have to make sure I’m properly dressed.
“Other than blocking the road, you mean?” Ilya asks, and I nod, frowning. I hope he doesn’t mean the trail I just saw. So far, it’s the only thing I noticed that resembles a road. If it’s blocked, I’ll have to hike down through the woods—a much iffier proposition.
Ilya stops and points at a cliff on the opposite side of the lake below us. “See that? It was a gradual slope before. And there are many like that on this mountain too. Very dangerous. The forest goes right up to the edge of some of these cliffs, so if you don’t look where you’re going…”
“Right. Dangerous. Got it.” That only reinforces my conviction that I need to be well prepared before attempting my escape. The last thing I want is to fall off a cliff. I’ll have to take a couple of days to get to know the area, explore it some more so I can know where I’m going. Maybe find out more about this region and learn which way is the closest settlement or whichever place would let me call the U.S. Embassy.
Either way, I have to be smart about my escape, so I don’t lose what little freedom I possess.
* * *
By the time we return to the house, I’m shivering and the tips of my ears feel like icicles. Peter is nowhere to be seen, so I go upstairs and run a hot bath for myself, figuring that should warm me up.
The tall white tub is unusually shaped: square and narrow but deep, with a built-in step inside. I can’t lie down in it like in my oval tub at home, but I can sit on the step and have the water cover me up to my neck. It’s actually more comfortable this way, I decide, closing my eyes as the heat of the water seeps into me, chasing away the chill and the tension in my muscles. I wouldn’t go so far as to describe my current state as relaxed, but I’m definitely feeling better.
If I weren’t here against my will, I’d almost consider this a vacation.