Stalking Steven

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Stalking Steven Page 19

by Jenna Bennett


  I was sitting outside, getting debriefed, while a lot of things were going on around us. Mendoza had suggested doing the honors inside, in the living room where Konstantin and Yuri had talked to Rachel and me last night, but I’d told him I’d rather be outside. I’d only been locked in for a few hours, but it had been enough to make me appreciate not being locked in.

  Mendoza had rescued Edwina from the Lexus and brought her to me, and I was holding on to her. It was very calming, having her warm weight on my lap while I ran my hand over her short fur.

  Konstantin and Yuri had been taken off by immigration officials. So had the girls. I didn’t know what would happen to them after this, but I figured, even if they were returned to Russia, they’d probably be relieved to be out of the life they’d lived for the past several weeks.

  An ambulance had shown up, and had taken Rachel to the hospital. She had a spongy lump on the back of her head that they wanted to X-ray, to make sure the skull wasn’t cracked. I asked them to please take her to Southern Hills, so I could visit her and Zachary together once this was over.

  At the moment, it was just Mendoza and me out here on the stoop, and half a dozen cops and immigration enforcement types crawling all over the house, looking for information.

  “We put a tracer on the car,” Mendoza explained. “Last night, before the whole Arena fiasco, I talked to the folks in vice about Stella’s. They were interested in what we’d seen, and called in ICE. At one point during the evening, an agent went into the parking lot and put a tracer on the black sedan, so we could follow it home.”

  “That must have been before Rachel and I got up on the bluff.”

  Mendoza’s lips twitched. “The two of you were up there?”

  “We talked about what a good vantage point it would be, remember? So after what you call the fiasco at the Arena, when you went home with Diana… did you find anything there, by the way?”

  He shook his head.

  “When Diana dropped me off at the Apex, I picked up Edwina and met Rachel on the bluff. We kept watch until the last car was gone from the parking lot, except the sedan. Then Rachel took her car down to the McDonald’s parking lot, and waited. I let her know when the sedan began moving, and we took turns following them here.”

  “And somewhere along the way, they must have made you.” His lips didn’t twitch this time, but his eyes were dancing.

  I made a face. “I guess so. Probably when Rachel stopped in front of the house. Or maybe when I pulled into the driveway down the street. They didn’t actually catch us until we were snooping around in their yard, though.”

  Mendoza nodded. “How’s the head?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Yuri didn’t hit me as hard as Konstantin hit Rachel. I have a lump and a headache—” I reached up to feel it; the lump, not the headache, like a small bird egg under my fingertips, “but it’s no big deal. Nothing like what Rachel has.”

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  He held up two.

  “Four,” I said. “I’m fine. If I needed medical attention, I’d get medical attention.”

  His eyebrows drew down. “If you see four fingers…”

  “I see two. Index and middle. A nice victory sign. Or are you too young to know what a victory sign is?”

  “I’ll be thirty-four in February,” Mendoza said. “I know what a victory sign is.”

  And I’d turned forty last July. “Great.”

  “It’s not like you’re old enough to remember World War Two yourself, you know, Mrs. Kelly.”

  No. Far from it. But hearing that he wasn’t even thirty-four yet, made me feel very old. I petted Edwina some more. At the rate I was going, I’d end up like Mrs.—excuse me, Miss—Grimshaw. Alone, with a pet dog. “If you want me to feel younger, you could stop calling me Mrs. Kelly. Mr. Kelly is dead. I’m not Mrs. Kelly anymore.”

  And wouldn’t have been, even if David hadn’t gotten himself murdered.

  Maybe I should drop Kelly and just go by my maiden name from now on.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mendoza said.

  “You called me Gina earlier.” Unless I’d imagined it.

  He didn’t answer. “To continue. While the two of you were playing leapfrog behind the sedan, we were also tracking the sedan by GPS. We weren’t planning to make a move until morning, but once we saw the two of you being captured, we thought we’d better step up the schedule.”

  “And we appreciate it,” I said.

  This time he smiled. “You looked like you didn’t need much help.”

  “I would have brained Yuri or Konstantin. But that doesn’t mean we would have gotten out. I might not have brained him hard enough. And then he might have killed me. So I’m grateful you showed up when you did. I have no need to be a hero.”

  After a second, I added, “I’m sorry I almost hit you.”

  He shrugged. “You didn’t, so don’t worry about it.”

  “It would have been a shame to break that perfect nose, though.”

  “I snore,” Mendoza said.

  Well, it looked perfect from the outside. As for the snoring, I doubted I’d ever get to experience that for myself. “So what happens now?”

  “ICE and vice fight over Yuri and Konstantin,” Mendoza said. “I’ll have to sit in on some of the interviews, to see whether they had anything to do with Griselda Grimshaw’s murder, but my gut feeling is they didn’t.”

  I shook my head. “I’m wondering whether Anastasia didn’t shoot her. Steven probably gave her his gun so she could protect herself. Under the circumstances, it’s hard to blame him. She must have been terrified that Yuri and Konstantin would find her again. Maybe, when I showed up, and you showed up, and Zachary showed up, she got scared.”

  “Maybe,” Mendoza said.

  “I don’t know why that would make her kill Mrs. Grimshaw, but maybe she misunderstood something. Or maybe she didn’t mean to.”

  Mendoza grunted. I have to admit I didn’t make a very convincing case for leniency. But there was no reason I could think of why Anastasia might have deliberately killed Mrs. Grimshaw. There’d be no reason for that.

  Unless Griselda had threatened her somehow, I guess.

  “She might actually be Steven’s daughter,” I said. “That’s what she told the other girls. And apparently what she told Steven.”

  He nodded. “Doesn’t mean she actually is.”

  No. “But Steven may have believed it.”

  “And Griselda might have believed otherwise.”

  So Anastasia shot her. That didn’t make any more sense, but was equally possible. “No way to know until we find them, I guess.”

  Mendoza shook his head. “I don’t think these goons can help us with that.”

  I didn’t, either. “If they knew where Anastasia was, I’m sure they’d have dragged her back here by now. In pieces if they had to. Just to show the other girls what would happen if any of them tried to get away.”

  “That’d be my guess, too,” Mendoza said.

  We sat—and in Mendoza’s case, stood—in silence a moment.

  “You should go,” Mendoza said.

  “Can I?”

  “You haven’t been charged with anything. You’re the victim here.”

  Hardly. “The girls are the victims. I just stumbled into this due to my own stupidity, and got a crack on the head for my trouble. But I wouldn’t mind going home.”

  I tucked Edwina under one arm and extended the other hand. “It’s been a long night. Would you mind?”

  He hauled me upright. “You look pretty good for not having slept for twenty-four hours.”

  “So do you,” I said.

  He smiled. “Occupational hazard.”

  “Will you let me know what happens?”

  He said he would. “Would you like me to walk you to your car?”

  “I can find it,” I said. “And I’m not so tired that I’ll pass out on the way there. Just go inside and see what’s going
on.”

  He nodded. But he stood there and watched while I carried Edwina across the lawn, all the way until I was in my car and on my way down the street.

  * * *

  I was still too wired to sleep, so after taking a shower and getting into fresh clothes, I loaded Edwina back into the car and drove to the office. I had told Diana someone would be there most of the day, and with Rachel and Zachary both laid up at Southern Hills, it looked like that someone would have to be me.

  Good thing, too, because she did show up just a few minutes after I arrived. “I’ll let you listen to the message,” I told her, “but a whole lot has happened since we left the Arena last night, and we’ll have to talk about some of it.”

  She was pale and looked like she hadn’t slept well, with dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t have that jittery, over-tired edge I sensed in myself, though. I probably looked like a monkey on speed, all twitchy and jumpy.

  “What happened?”

  “Message first. Then I’ll tell you.”

  She listened to the message. Then I told her everything that had happened in the less than twelve hours since I’d seen her last. Ending with, “I don’t know whether it’s true or not. She could be lying to everyone, including her friends. But this girl took a big risk getting here to find her father, if he isn’t really her father.”

  Diana didn’t say anything.

  “Did Steven spend any time in Russia, between twenty and twenty-five years ago?”

  “That was before I knew him,” Diana said, “but yes. Steven spent time in a lot of places back then. He was a photo journalist. He was in Berlin when the wall fell. And he was all over Europe and the Middle East for the decade after that. I’m sure he didn’t stay celibate all that time. If he had a child with someone he slept with over there, she never told him, though.”

  “Or maybe he just didn’t tell you?” I suggested.

  She shook her head. “He would have told me. He would have wanted to help. To send money, or to bring them here. If she really is his daughter.”

  “So you think it’s possible that she might be?”

  “Anything’s possible,” Diana said. “But I guess we won’t really know until we find them.”

  No. And maybe not even then. “Any more thoughts on where they could be?”

  “I’ll call the family again,” Diana said. “Maybe one of them has heard from him by now. But no. Other than that, I can’t think of anywhere they might have gone. Although if they were hoping to get a hundred thousand dollars yesterday, and they didn’t, they’re probably still around Nashville somewhere.”

  Probably. “Did you freeze your accounts? Or Steven’s accounts?”

  “Jaime did,” Diana said. “Yesterday. And they aren’t frozen. But they’re flagged, so that if Steven shows up, they’ll call 911 and delay him long enough for the police to show up.”

  “But so far, he hasn’t tried to get any money?”

  Diana shook her head. “I’ll guess we’ll just wait. Sooner or later he’ll need money.”

  Sooner rather than later, probably. There are only so many places someone can stay for free. “I don’t suppose you guys own camping gear?”

  “No,” Diana said. “My idea of roughing it is a cabin in the Smoky Mountains. With a hot tub.”

  There’d been a photograph like that in their house the other day, of the two of them at a mountain cabin. “Do you own something like that? Could he have gone there?”

  Diana shook her head. “Not without spending money. And his credit card is flagged, too.”

  So probably not. “Let me know if you hear anything,” I said.

  She nodded. “Thanks for all your help, Gina.”

  Oh, sure. Big help I’d been. “This wasn’t what you signed up for when you gave me this job. It got really complicated really fast.” Kidnapping and human trafficking and murder…

  “No,” Diana agreed. “But at least it doesn’t look as if he’s cheating.”

  It didn’t. And probably a positive sign that she could see the silver lining.

  I let her out and waved her off, and went back inside to Edwina. And no sooner had I sat down at the desk, than my phone rang.

  “It’s me,” Rachel’s voice said. “Get me out of here.”

  I blinked. “The hospital? Are you in the hospital?”

  “Yes! And I want to go home.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Especially if she had a concussion. She lived alone, didn’t she? “Will they let you leave?”

  “If I have someone who’ll stay with me,” Rachel said. “I’ll come to the office. We can stay together.”

  Oh, sure. Like I’d let her sit here all day, when she should probably be in bed.

  On the other hand, if I didn’t go there and pick her up, she’d probably just get someone else to do it. She must have other friends. I guess I should be flattered that she’d called me first. “Just hang on. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there.”

  We could update Zachary, too, while we were at it.

  So I loaded Edwina back into the car, and took her with me. She wasn’t allowed inside the hospital, of course, but the weather was cool enough even in the middle of the day that she’d be OK in the car for a bit. I cracked a window to make sure she had enough air, and trusted that she’d bite anyone who stuck a hand in. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  This situation was untenable. I didn’t dare leave the dog alone in David’s penthouse—my penthouse now, but with all his fancy purchases in it; fancy purchases she could poop on and chew to bits—but I couldn’t keep dragging her around with me, either. She hardly ever felt grass under her paws, poor thing. She just went from car to office to car to apartment. It wasn’t fair to her.

  And then there was Rachel. And Zachary, who couldn’t stay with Rachel if Rachel had a concussion. She’d offered to take him, but now that she was injured too, she was in no position to take care of him as well as herself. And there wasn’t enough room in the penthouse for even one of them (in addition to me and Edwina), let alone both.

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” I told Rachel when I’d found her. “We’ll go see Zachary and update him on what happened yesterday. And see when they’ll let him leave the hospital.”

  It probably wouldn’t be today, but maybe tomorrow.

  “Then I’ll take you home so you can pack a bag. And then we’ll all move into the house in Hillwood together.”

  There was plenty of room there, as well as grass for the dog. And I should probably check up on the renovations, anyway, and put some pressure on the construction crew to finish the job. I hadn’t made it out there much while I’d been cramming for my PI license, and of course the past few days had been full of Steven and all his doings.

  “I thought your house in Hillwood was under construction,” Rachel said.

  “Yes and no. The fire last month took out the ceiling in the family room and the floor in the master bedroom, and part of the exterior wall in both. That’s all been fixed, even if the drywall hasn’t been painted and the new wood floors aren’t in.” At least those details hadn’t been done the last time I was out there to check on progress. “The master bedroom isn’t habitable. But there are plenty of other bedrooms. Enough for all of us.”

  Rachel looked unconvinced.

  “It’ll be good for Edwina, too,” I added. “I can’t leave her alone in David’s penthouse. And I’m sure she’d like a yard. She used to have one.” And the house in Hillwood had a yard that put Griselda Grimshaw’s to shame.

  “You don’t have to stay long,” I added. “But it makes more sense than anything else. As soon as you feel well enough, you can go home to your own house.”

  “I feel well enough now,” Rachel grumbled.

  Her pupils were the same size again. That was probably a good sign. But a bit smaller than they ought to be. I deduced she was probably riding high on some sort of heavy duty pain killer, and once it wore off she’d feel a lot worse than s
he did right now. “Just give it a day or two. Zachary will probably be more likely to agree if you’re there, and it isn’t just me.”

  Rachel sighed. “Fine. If you’re sure it isn’t an imposition.”

  I said I was sure. And I was. I enjoyed the penthouse, but taking on the responsibility for Edwina had made things more difficult. Not that apartment-dwellers can’t have dogs. But if the last couple of days were any indication of what life together would be like, she might be happier in Hillwood.

  Or with someone other than me. But we weren’t going to go there.

  The discharge nurse insisted on getting Rachel into a wheelchair. “Procedure,” she explained while she expertly hefted Rachel from the bed into the chair.

  “We’re going to visit someone in another room,” I explained.

  “Take the chair.”

  Fine. We took the chair. I pushed it into the elevator, and pushed it down the hall to Zachary’s room.

  He was alone, and awake, watching something on TV. It had lots of explosions and people running. When we walked—and rolled—in, he turned the sound down. “What happened to you?”

  “Concussion,” Rachel said.

  “One of the Russian guys who beat you up hit her over the head,” I added.

  Zachary’s eyes widened.

  He actually looked worse today than yesterday, if that was possible. The cuts and bruises had reached maximum color by now, and his face looked like a boxer’s after a title match. But he seemed more alert, and more able to follow what we were saying. He also talked more. And the whooshing machine that had been helping him breathe yesterday was gone, and he was managing on his own.

  I went over the whole thing, the way I’d done with Diana earlier, and with Mendoza before that. By now, I was really getting the telling of it down to a science. It made for an exciting narrative.

  When I finished, the first words out of Zachary’s mouth were, “What’ll happen to the girls?”

  I told him I had no idea. “ICE took them. For debriefing, I’m sure. I don’t know whether they’ll be sent back to Russia or what will happen.”

  They were here on some sort of student visa, Mendoza had said, so maybe they’d actually be allowed to stay if they wanted to. “You should ask him,” I told Zachary. “He’s down there with the detectives from vice, who were also part of the sting. Mendoza’s everybody’s hero at the moment.”

 

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