Nobody's Child (Georgia Davis Series)

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  But now Jenny was saying that it wasn’t real. That they were in danger. A tiny voice nagged Vanna and said Jenny was right. Vlad wasn’t her father, and the voice said he couldn’t be trusted. She would be smart to put some distance between herself and the farm.

  Reluctantly, she and Jenny hatched a hasty plan. The next night they waited until it was late. Zoya allowed them to keep emery boards in their rooms, and they managed to tear them into pieces and wedge them into the back plate so that the door locks didn’t completely catch. They piled on as much clothing as they could, which wasn’t much since they no longer had boots, coats, or hats, and crept down the stairs. They sneaked out of the house and even made it partway down the driveway before a pair of bright lights kicked on and the guards soon overpowered them. After they threw them back in their rooms, Vanna heard Zoya on the phone.

  Chapter 88

  Savannah

  The next morning Vanna was driven to a warehouse somewhere in the bowels of Chicago. Eight girls were already there, and the place was filled with camp cots, sleeping bags, makeup, and trash. Like in the apartment she and Jenny had been kept in before she’d gone to the farm, a clothing rack held all sorts of hooker clothes that, presumably, were shared. The women ate only one meal a day, usually sandwiches from a nearby deli. Most of the girls didn’t speak English, but they chattered incessantly, so much that Vanna had a persistent headache. The only peace she got was when they were out hooking. For some reason she was no longer sent on booty calls. She spent the entire day inside the cramped quarters of the warehouse.

  The only consolation was that Sergei had come with her. She tried not to think how low she’d sunk to consider a Russian goon her ally; it was clear he was supposed to keep an eye on her. But she smiled when he brushed by, and when they were the only ones in the warehouse, he would perch on the edge of her cot. He didn’t speak much English, nor she Russian, but they were able to communicate through pigeon English, pantomime, and gestures.

  Sergei, Vanna learned, was not only a guard, but also Vlad’s part-time chauffeur. She asked him where Vlad was; she hadn’t seen him since they’d brought her here, and that was nearly a week ago. Was her “relationship” with him—she wasn’t sure what else to call it—over? Or was Vlad punishing her because she tried to escape? Did he know she was pregnant?

  Sergei shrugged. “I not know. No ask.”

  Vanna pursed her lips. “Am I going to be here forever?”

  He shrugged again, implying, at least to Vanna, that she was better off not knowing.

  Chapter 89

  Savannah

  A week later the cold was so bitter that the space heater’s red coils seemed like a bad joke. It was about ten at night and all the girls were out. Vanna was huddled on her cot in sweats and a blanket that Sergei had managed to rustle up. It was ironic—if she’d still been turning tricks, she wouldn’t be cold. She was hungry, too, and about to ransack everyone’s belongings for a candy bar or cookies when a car pulled up outside.

  The door slammed, and a man came in through the back. She recognized the burly bull of a man: one of Vlad’s bodyguards. He took a look around but gave no sign he recognized Vanna. Then he went back out. Another car door opened and closed, and a moment later, Vlad strolled in. Vanna’s pulse sped up—she couldn’t help it—and a kernel of hope took root. Was he here to take her back? Forgive her? She scrambled off the bed and started toward him.

  The look on his face made her halt midstride. No crooked smile tonight. No enthusiasm, not even a glint of desire. His expression was blank. Vanna took a step back and ran one hand, then the other, up and down her arms. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this cold.

  “They say you try to run.” His voice was as neutral and flat as his face. But that, she’d learned, was Vlad at his most dangerous. He was sizing up his prey. Making adjustments. Soon he would strike. “After how I treat you, Vanna?”

  She hung her head, hoping a sign of submission would win him over.

  He reached his hand out toward her. She cringed, expecting him to slap her—or worse. But all he did was finger one of her earrings.

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. When he’d given the earrings to her, he’d ordered her to wear them all the time. She did. Now she waited for him to tear them off her ears, waited for the excruciating pain and blood and bits of skin that would follow. Instead he dropped his hand.

  “Look at me.”

  Slowly she raised her head. His eyes were chunks of ice. There was no anger in them, but no forgiveness, either. She could have been a chair or table as far as he was concerned. She swallowed. Rage she could deal with. Lust, too. But this—this glacial emptiness—terrified her, and her composure evaporated. His presence sucked out her teenage arrogance, cynicism, and know-it-all attitude, as if he’d run a huge vacuum cleaner over her psyche. The only thing left was fear, and an overwhelming desire to make it go away. Maybe if she tried to please him, tried hard, she could regain her position as Vlad’s chosen.

  She tried to muster some of her flirty ways, but they wouldn’t come. Instead the words slipped out. “I’m sorry.”

  “I could kill you,” he murmured after a long pause. “No one would know. No one would care.”

  Maybe he should. That would solve her problems. What did she have to live for if he didn’t want her anymore?

  “You like that, wouldn’t you?”

  She jerked her head up. Was he reading her mind?

  He closed in. This time she was sure he would strike her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her mother had predicted it. Her teachers, too. She would come to no good. She was just a two-bit junkie whore who gave boys blow jobs in their cars. She deserved whatever was coming.

  But Vlad’s punch didn’t come. She felt him cup her chin in his hand. She opened her eyes. He was staring at her, his eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to figure something out. Finally, a tiny crooked smile curled his lip.

  “But I no kill you.”

  She swallowed, unsure whether the wave of emotion rolling through her was relief or regret.

  “You pregnant.”

  Again, she was taken aback. How did he know? “Does—does that make you happy?”

  Another crooked smile. Then he turned and called out to Sergei, who appeared from the depths of the warehouse. Vlad spoke in Russian. Sergei stole a glance at Vanna, disappeared, then returned with a cardboard box, which he handed to Vlad.

  Vlad tossed it to Vanna. She didn’t catch it fast enough, and it fell to the floor. “You know what to do.”

  She bent down and picked up the box. A pregnancy test kit. Of course he could tell she was pregnant. If he’d impregnated as many girls as Jenny claimed, he would know the signs. And if he didn’t, Zoya would.

  He waved a hand toward the bathroom. “You bring back stick.”

  Five minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, clutching the white plastic strip with a pink cross on one end, indicating a positive result. She passed it to him. He examined it, then nodded. “This is gut.”

  She tried out a smile. “Yes. It is. I’m having your baby.” She hugged herself, pretending to be happy. “Can you forgive me, Vlad? I’ll never leave you again, I promise. I just want to have our baby. Together.” She wondered how many other girls had said the same thing. Would it make any difference?

  Vlad looked around. She followed his gaze. No one had cleaned up the warehouse. The blankets on the cots were messy and crumpled; clothes and toiletries were scattered; trash littered the floor. But Vlad’s expression was absorbed. He wasn’t registering the scene. He was planning something, working things through.

  Finally he turned back. “You want back to farm?”

  She nodded. “More than anything in the world.”

  He walked over to a small mound of trash on the floor and picked up a crumpled sandwich wrapper from the deli. He held the edge of it between his fingertips, as if it was contaminated by dangerous microbes, and backtracked to Vanna.

  “You do this,
I take you back.”

  “Anything.” She smiled in a way she hoped was both seductive and submissive.

  “Take.” He dangled the wrapper in front of her.

  Chapter 90

  Savannah

  “Sergei,” Vlad called. “Bring pen.”

  Again Sergei materialized out of the gloom with a ballpoint pen, which he gave to Vanna.

  Vlad motioned toward her cot. “Sit.”

  She sat with the wrapper and pen.

  “Make this good English.” Then he told her what he wanted her to say.

  Her smile lost some of its wattage. “I can’t do that.”

  “You do.” The icy look was back.

  Vanna bit her lip. “But—but she’s my sister.”

  “And I am father of baby.”

  “I don’t want to see her.” Not now. Not like this, Vanna thought.

  “You no do? If not, easy to fix.”

  She would be dead before morning. Along with the baby. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to die after all. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll do it.”

  Despite the cold, she was sweating. She wrote on the wrapper.

  “Make English good.”

  “I will. I am.”

  Georgia, I am your half sister, Savannah. I’m in Chicago and I’m pregnant. I need your help. Please find me.

  When she was done, she handed it back. “Why do you want her to find me?”

  “Not your business.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Why? Do you know her?”

  “I say not your business.”

  She blinked rapidly. She’d taken it as far as she could. She’d have to try another tack.

  “We not finished,” Vlad said.

  “What do you mean?” She felt the knot tighten.

  “Sergei. Envelope.”

  Sergei passed her a white envelope, which Vlad made her address. Georgia lived in someplace called Evanston. On Wilder Street. She didn’t know where Evanston was but figured it had to be close. She wondered if there was any way she could warn her sister. Vlad cut off her thoughts.

  “Now give me hand.”

  Vanna cocked her head. “Why?”

  Vlad reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a knife. It looked like a Swiss Army knife, but thinner and sharper. Savannah gasped. She’d done what he needed. Now he was going to kill her. The blood left her head in a rush.

  “Give me hand,” he said in a businesslike tone.

  She tried to slip it into the pocket of her sweatpants. He was going to cut it off.

  “Now.” He motioned.

  There was nothing she could do. She extended her palm and looked away. Whatever was going to happen would be now. She felt a prick on the tip of her index finger. She turned back to gaze at her hand. A drop of blood oozed out. She stared at the blood, wondering what the hell he was doing. Then Vlad took the sandwich wrapper and rolled her finger across a corner of the wrapper until it was smeared with her blood. He handed it to her.

  “Fold and put in envelope,” he ordered.

  Vanna slipped the wrapper inside.

  “Now lick closed.”

  She did.

  Vlad took the envelope, gave it to Sergei, and issued orders in Russian. Sergei nodded.

  Without another word Vlad turned around and left the warehouse as suddenly as he’d come.

  Chapter 91

  Savannah

  Once Vlad left the warehouse, Savannah’s anxiety bubbled to the surface. Something was very wrong. Vlad knew Georgia. She didn’t know how, but she knew her sister was in danger. And it was her fault. She had to do something. She pulled her gaze from the door Vlad had gone through and rubbed a hand down one arm. As she did, an idea came to her.

  She continued to briskly rub her hands up and down her arms. “I’m fucking freezing,” she said to Sergei. “Can I borrow your coat?”

  Sergei flashed her a puzzled look.

  “Your coat.” She pointed to his coat and pantomimed draping it around her shoulders. Sergei hesitated, uncertainty flooding his face.

  “Please. I’m so cold.”

  Finally he nodded. He took off his jacket and passed it to Savannah. She put it on and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Thank you so much.”

  She went back to the camp bed. She couldn’t do it right away. She had to wait. She stretched her arms, yawned theatrically, and lay down, curling up on her side. Sergei looked as if he approved. Why not? With her asleep, he could relax his guard. She pretended to be sleepy and closed her eyes, all the while mentally counting seconds. When she got to three hundred, she rolled to the other side, As she did, she furtively slipped a hand into the front pocket of his jacket. Where he kept his cell.

  Her fingers brushed something metallic. It was there! She closed her fingers around it, trying hard not to let her triumph show. She counted to three hundred again. Then she slowly got up, swung her legs over the bed, and stood.

  “Bathroom,” she said when Sergei also rose from his chair.

  He nodded.

  She headed to the bathroom. Sergei didn’t go with her, but he followed her with his eyes. She went in and closed the door. Her heart banged in her chest. She fished out the cell, sat down on the toilet, and dialed 4-1-1, timing her pee so that it trickled out at the same time the recorded voice came on the line. When it was time for her to speak, she flushed the toilet and whispered.

  “Georgia Davis. Evanston. Wilder Street.”

  “One moment.”

  Savannah impatiently pressed the phone against her ear. Hurry up. Finally, when the recorded voice told her she could be connected at no additional charge, she pressed the button. She couldn’t believe it. She was actually going to talk to her sister. For a fleeting moment, a burst of pure joy skipped up her spine.

  Georgia’s line rang. At the same time, Sergei banged on the door.

  “Give back, bitch.”

  She kept her mouth shut.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice said on the other end.

  “Savannah, now.”

  She heard her sister’s voice. “Hello? Is anyone there?” And then, “Sam, is that you?”

  “No, I won’t!” Savannah said.

  The door to the bathroom swung open, and Sergei stormed in. He bent over her and snatched the phone away.

  “No!” she yelled.

  Sergei raised the phone to his ear. Savannah could hear her sister.

  “Sam, are you there?”

  Savannah had no way to reply.

  Sergei broke the connection.

  Chapter 92

  Savannah

  Savannah was relieved when Jenny called through the vent the next morning. At least she was still there.

  “Where were you?” Jenny whispered. “I was so worried.”

  Vanna told her about the week in the warehouse and how Vlad had made her write a note to her sister.

  “Why would he do that? Does he know her?”

  “Apparently. I tried to call her.” She explained how she’d “borrowed” Sergei’s phone but it hadn’t worked. “I still need to warn her.”

  “About what? You have no idea what he’s up to.”

  “I know that, but somehow I need to tell her not to come looking for me.”

  “But you just wrote a note asking her to do just that.”

  Vanna let out an impatient breath. “Jenny, it’s a trap. Vlad wants her to come looking for me.”

  “Why?”

  Vanna wondered how another human being could be so dense. “I just told you I have no idea.” She paused. “Maybe Sergei knows.”

  “Sergei…the guard?”

  “He was my watcher at the warehouse. He may know what Vlad’s planning. Maybe he could warn her for me.”

  “Oh sure.” Jenny voice was laced with sarcasm. “He’ll definitely go out of his way for you. Especially after you tried to rip off his cell.”

  “Other than that, he’s been nice to me.”

  “I’m sure he has. But Vlad pays h
im a lot of money to guard us. How are you going to pay?”

  “I’ll let him do whatever he wants,” Vanna said after a beat.

  “I don’t know about that.” Jenny went quiet. Then she changed the subject as if she didn’t want to know any more. “Speaking of plans, something happened while you were gone.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a new girl.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “About to deliver.”

  “Is she a blond?”

  “Of course.”

  “Shit. What’s with him and all the blond girls?”

  “I don’t know,” Jenny said.

  “Maybe he thinks he can charge a higher price for babies that have blond mothers. Or something like that. Have you talked to her?”

  “Not yet. Her English isn’t so good. But she speaks Russian. She and Zoya were talking.”

  “Well now, that’s interesting.”

  “Why?”

  Vanna felt another flash of irritation. Jenny should have been able to figure it out. It meant that Vlad’s business was growing so fast he was now recruiting girls from overseas as well as the US. But more important, it meant this girl could listen in on what Zoya and the guards said to each other. She could eavesdrop on Zoya’s end of a phone conversation, too. And if she could translate what she heard, a bunch of new possibilities had just turned up.

  *

  Later that day Vanna managed to get Sergei to take her for a walk. It was a mild day for February, and the ground was so soggy from melting snow that clumps of mud stuck to her gym shoes. She didn’t care; she’d found the shoes in her closet and they were two sizes too big. As they made their way past the barn, she let out a breath and asked if he’d warn Georgia for her.

  “I don’t have money to pay you. But you and I can have our own private party afterward.” She flashed him what she hoped was a seductive smile.