Though on the surface Magda didn’t seem like the type of person who could exploit and imprison young women, Brinna cautioned herself. One thing being a police officer had taught her was that appearances could be and often were deceiving.
She asked the woman to put an expensive piece of pottery on hold for her and left the shop as the rain abated. Her plan was to return in the future for a more thorough investigation. Tonight, she had just enough time to get home and change before meeting Jack in Belmont Shore. The dinner was a good idea, she decided. They had a lot of cop business to discuss.
* * *
Ivana opted for an early bedtime. She still did not feel 100 percent and found that she grew tired easily. Plus, the emotional interview she’d given Detective O’Reilly had drained her. She lay on the soft, comfortable bed and stared at the ceiling, almost afraid to close her eyes, afraid this was all a dream and she would wake up back on the filthy mattress with Ana and Galina taunting her.
Working to banish those images forever from her mind, she turned her thoughts to her host. Rose Caruso is like an angel, she thought, like I’ve always imagined my own mother was. Even the police here are nice. Detective O’Reilly is a beautiful man, eyes so warm and calm. She hugged her arms to her chest. O’Reilly was a man she and Villie would have dreamed of, handsome like a movie star and so kind.
Is this all real? she asked herself. And then the reality of Villie’s death crashed down on her, and Ivana let the tears fall. It was tragically real. Villie would never again laugh with her, grab her arm and drag her into some adventure. Villie was gone forever, and Ivana realized that only seeing Demitri pay for what he’d done could ever make her feel any better. She’d never feel good, and she’d never get her sister back, but at least if Demitri were arrested, she’d know that no one else’s sister would meet the same fate as Villie.
Rolling over, Ivana vowed that whatever she could do to help the police officer Jack O’Reilly she would do. It was now her mission to stop Demitri. And she relished the thought of seeing him arrested and humbled.
39
JACK FIDGETED with his tie after he parked. After looking around to make sure Brinna wasn’t already in the parking lot watching, he leaned over to study what he could of his appearance in the rearview mirror.
Tie on or off? He loosened it, then tightened it, then took it off.
“Argh.” He blew out a breath in frustration, not quite believing he was so nervous, but he was. The invitation to dinner had slipped glibly off his tongue, but as five thirty approached, he realized this was perilously close to a date. He liked Brinna, admired her, looked forward to any chance he got to be around her, but was he ready to date her?
For that matter, was she ready to date him? Where was she at with her faith?
Jack righted himself in the driver’s seat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d come to grips with his wife’s death and knew the last thing she would have wanted was for him to pine and stay hidden in the house for the rest of his life, so this nervousness was not because of her.
No, this nervousness was because he didn’t know what Brinna would think of the two of them stepping from a working relationship to a personal relationship. What if she didn’t feel the same way he did?
Only one way to find out. He squeezed the wheel before letting it go and then got out of the car and walked into the restaurant. He only had to wait a few minutes before Brinna arrived. And when she did, even in casual attire—jeans and a pale-green sweater—she took his breath away. Jack knew there was no getting around it; he wanted a personal relationship with her. He wanted to know everything about her and be an integral part of her life. Praying that she returned the feeling, he stepped forward and got her attention.
* * *
Legends was a popular Long Beach sports bar and restaurant. Brinna walked in and looked around until she heard Jack call her name. She turned and saw him in the waiting area. He’d taken off his tie and loosened his collar but still wore his suit jacket. A flash of nervousness enveloped Brinna. She worked to quash it.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
He shook his head. “I was a few minutes early; you’re right on time.”
It was still a bit early for the dinner crowd, so they were seated quickly.
“Good choice,” Jack said as they opened their menus. “I haven’t been here in ages.”
“Maggie and Rick and I come here a lot during football,” Brinna said without thinking, and then she remembered Rick.
Jack looked up from his menu, and she could tell by his face he understood. “Ouch. I know it hurts about Rick, but there is still hope.”
Brinna set her menu down. “Yeah, I’m beginning to believe that. My mom always says it. And when I went to see Rick, he was unflaggingly upbeat. I imagine he’ll be okay no matter what happens.”
“A step forward for you, I think, seeing hope in a tragic situation.”
Their eyes held for a moment, but the waitress approaching the table sent their attention back to the menus. Brinna ordered a hamburger and fries and Jack, a sirloin steak.
When the waitress left, Jack sat back and regarded Brinna. “You’re an easy date. Just a hamburger?” His gray eyes teased.
Brinna wondered at his choice of words. “Is that what this is? A date?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes, I guess it is.” He leaned forward, the teasing gone, warmth and curiosity in his gaze.
Brinna’s breath caught in her throat, and for a minute she lost her voice. She kept her eyes on Jack’s and sensed the connection they had when they were partners. This was what she wanted—the easy camaraderie she had with him during their partnership. But suddenly it all felt unsure.
“Jack, I like you. I like the way you look at things, and I like being around you, but . . .”
“I was afraid there was a but coming.”
“It’s just that . . . well, when we worked together, your wife still weighed heavy on you. . . . Boy, did that sound lame.”
Jack smiled and shook his head. “I know what you mean. I will always love Vicki, but I am ready to move on. Maybe I didn’t realize how ready until I started spending more time with you. The case, lunch the other day . . . I enjoy being with you. I hope you can say the same about me.”
Brinna felt the heat start to rise in her cheeks, and she played with the napkin in her lap for a moment. “I can. You were a good partner, and I miss our chats.”
“Only as a partner?” The twinkle was back.
She smiled and struggled to find words that didn’t sound odd. “No, I guess I can think of you as more than a partner. Is that where we’re going?”
He cleared his throat. “I’d like more, Brinna. I would.”
Warmth bubbled through Brinna, and the heat she’d felt rising a minute ago flooded her face. This was what she wanted, and he wanted the same thing. “Then we’re on the same page in more ways than one.”
Their eyes locked, and he reached his hand across the table. Brinna put her hand in his and relished the strength she felt there.
40
SCRAPE, EEEK, scrape, thump . . .
Ivana lay holding her breath, listening to the noises coming from outside her window and trying to convince herself it was only her overactive imagination. Her efforts were rewarded with a few moments of silence, and then the scraping started again. She’d awakened from a sound sleep to the noises at the window and was now wide awake, completely unable to go back to sleep.
What would make that type of noise? she wondered, gathering the blanket in her hands closer around her neck, afraid to turn toward the window. She’d seen very little of this country to have any frame of reference for the sound. At home the noise could have been the branch of a tree or one of the other girls’ suitors tapping on the pane to get the attention of his beloved. She hadn’t seen enough of Mrs. Caruso’s yard to know if there was a branch near enough to scrape the window. As for suitors . . .
Her ro
om was in the rear of the house with a large window overlooking the backyard. Mrs. Caruso’s room was toward the front of the house. As Ivana listened, the sound grew louder, and fear crept into her gut like a hunter stalking its prey. She imagined someone was at the window picking the lock, and when she forced herself to turn toward the window, she saw a shadow.
Jumping up from the bed, Ivana grabbed the new robe Mrs. Caruso had given her earlier in the day. She scrambled into it as she fled the dark room and hurried down the hall. Pausing at Mrs. Caruso’s door, Ivana froze. She hadn’t even noticed the time; Mrs. Caruso might be sound asleep. And what if she were only imagining things? Would the woman think she’d taken in some timid thing that cringed at every shadow?
Glancing back down the hall, Ivana knew she wasn’t jumping at shadows. Someone had been at her window; she was certain. She knocked on the bedroom door.
“Come in” came a clear but sleepy reply.
Slowly Ivana opened the door. Rose Caruso had turned on a bedside light. She looked at Ivana in the semidarkness, concern in her eyes. “Is everything okay? Did you have a bad dream?” she asked as she threw the covers off and got out of bed.
“I heard something scratching at the window in my room. It frightened me.” Ivana looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
The older woman donned her own robe and took Ivana’s shoulders. “Don’t apologize. One benefit of having a police officer for a daughter is knowing I can call the police anytime I think I have a problem.” She walked to her nightstand, picked up the phone, and punched in a number. Motioning toward Ivana, Mrs. Caruso indicated she could take a seat on the end of the bed.
Ivana complied and felt the anxiety in her stomach calming while she listened to Mrs. Caruso talk to the police. She told them that she thought there was a prowler outside the house and that she wanted a patrol officer to come and look in the yard. There was a bit more to the conversation, and then Mrs. Caruso hung up.
“There—they’ll send a patrol car by to check things out. Does that make you feel better?” Mrs. Caruso sat next to Ivana and put an arm over her shoulders.
“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry to be so frightened. You must think me a weak little mouse.” As she sat in the cozy room with Rose Caruso, Ivana’s panic seemed foolish, and she believed the noises and the shadows were figments of her imagination and nothing more.
“I said, don’t apologize. And I think only that you are a young girl who has every right to be fearful. Now, since we’re up, how about we go to the kitchen and have some tea?”
Ivana nodded and followed Mrs. Caruso into the kitchen. The woman flipped on the hall light, the living room light, and all the kitchen lights, and Ivana smiled. The brightness made her feel better, safer somehow. And when the kettle was on the stove with flames glowing under it, Ivana felt normal again and as safe as she had ever felt in her life.
She took a steaming cup of tea and turned to sit at the table. Instantly a scream tore from her throat, and the teacup fell from her hands, shattering on the floor.
As fear pounded in her ears, Ivana heard Mrs. Caruso behind her. “Wha—?” was all the woman managed.
The masked man in the doorway moved forward quickly. He pointed a gun at Ivana and in her native tongue ordered her quiet.
Mrs. Caruso stepped forward and tried to push Ivana behind her, but the man’s hand came up quickly and caught the left side of Mrs. Caruso’s face, sending her backward against the kitchen counter and then down to the floor.
“No!” Ivana cried, leaping for the man despite her fear. He was there for her—she knew it. Somehow Demitri had found her. Rushing forward, she ignored the gun and grabbed the mask, jerking it from the man’s head.
“Simon!” The shock of recognition stunned her.
Simon jammed the gun into her midsection with a curse. “Now look what you have done. You’ve signed your friend’s death warrant.” He shoved Ivana to where Mrs. Caruso was now struggling to her feet. Stepping to the door, he unlocked it and pulled it open. Two more masked men rushed in.
“Take them both,” Simon ordered in Bulgarian. “The woman has seen my face. I can’t leave her here.” He turned to Mrs. Caruso and Ivana, this time speaking in English. “If either of you makes a sound, I’ll kill you both.”
The men moved quickly. One grabbed Ivana, and the other, Mrs. Caruso. Ivana struggled to no avail. The man who held her had a grip of iron. Her heart filled with worry for Mrs. Caruso, who still seemed dazed from the slap. A thin line of blood ran down her chin. A sack was yanked over Ivana’s head, and everything went black.
Pulled from her feet, Ivana was carried out into the cold night. Shivers racked her body, both from the cold and from fear. Her ears distinguished the rumble of a car motor and the door of a van being pulled open. She was pushed inside and, a second later, felt Mrs. Caruso come to rest beside her. The door slammed, and the van jerked backward into the street, then forward. Horror gripped Ivana’s heart as she realized she was responsible for her benefactor being taken to the same hell she thought she’d escaped.
No one would know they were being taken. They were at the mercy of Demitri, and he would punish them both for Ivana’s transgression.
Ivana expelled rib-shaking sobs, certain the van was taking her and Mrs. Caruso to their deaths.
41
BRINNA WASN’T ASLEEP when the phone started ringing. She’d been lying in bed, stroking the slumbering Hero, feelings alternating between anxiety and anticipation. The situation with Hero, wondering if the city would pick up his cost, caused the anxiety; and this new thing with Jack caused the anticipation. She’d really enjoyed the dinner with him, more than she could remember enjoying a night out with a man. She even looked forward to Sunday and attending church with Jack. That would knock her mother for a loop.
But Brinna couldn’t say she’d ever been good at relationships. The last guy she dated had been nice enough, but he couldn’t understand Brinna’s mission, her need to rescue children. She and Jack had more common ground, common interests, and common concerns. Would all that commonality help them make a relationship work?
When the phone rang, Brinna frowned. She was still hoping Maggie would call but knew a call at this time of night was unlikely to be from her friend. She glanced at the clock and the time gave her pause. It was a little after 2 a.m. No good news ever came this late. She answered the phone on the nightstand as Hero stirred.
“Yes?”
“Brinna, it’s Debbie from communications. Sorry to wake you.” Brinna recognized the voice of one of the dispatch supervisors.
“I was awake. What’s up?”
“Do you know where your mother is?”
Brinna sat up and swung her legs out from under the covers. Her frown deepened, and a knot of fear formed inside her.
“I assume she’s home in bed. Why?”
She heard Debbie sigh. “She called us about forty-five minutes ago, saying she thought she had a prowler. She didn’t indicate it was urgent, so we didn’t enter the call as a priority one. Anyway, a graveyard unit is at her house now, and there’s no sign of her. All the lights are on in the house and the kitchen door was open, but your mom isn’t there.”
The knot of fear inside Brinna exploded like a hand grenade, and she sprang to her feet. “I’m on my way over there now. Is there a sergeant on scene?”
“There will be by the time you get there. I’ll also notify the watch commander.”
“Thanks.” Brinna could tell by the tension in Debbie’s voice that she would treat this situation very seriously. She hung up the phone and grabbed some clothes. Dressing quickly, she whistled for Hero, and the two of them sped to her mother’s house.
* * *
There were three black-and-whites in front of the house when Brinna arrived—one sergeant and two patrol cars. Every light in the house was on, and through open blinds Brinna could see officers standing in her mother’s living room. A dread tightened in her stomach, very similar to
the feeling she’d had the day she herself was snatched off the sidewalk twenty years ago by a monster. He’d wrapped her in a blanket and wedged her under a table in a camping trailer. She’d felt like she would suffocate back then and she felt that way now. Her throat tightened, and her hands shook as she jumped out of the truck and jogged to the house. Her injured wrist throbbed. She left Hero in the truck with the motor running and the air on until she knew exactly what she was dealing with.
“What’s going on?” she asked the first officer who caught her eye, a rookie she knew only as Bates. He was acting as scribe at her mom’s kitchen door.
“Not sure yet,” he said as he put pen to paper to write down her name. “Sergeant Klein is inside, waiting for you.” He stepped aside and Brinna leaped past him.
Once in the kitchen, Brinna took a deep breath and surveyed the scene, struggling for a police officer’s detachment. Klein was there, along with Donovan, another graveyard officer Brinna figured was training the rookie outside. She saw the broken teacup on the floor, the gas burner on the stove still burning, and the chair turned over on its side, but other than that, there was no blood, no bodies. Her breath came out in a whoosh.
“Brinna.” Klein put a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t know what we have here, but it doesn’t look good.”
“What can you tell me?” were all the words her tight, dry throat could manage.
“Forced entry through a back bedroom window.” Klein waved his arm around the kitchen. “And this. I’d be willing to bet your mom isn’t in the habit of leaving the stove on or dropping cups on the floor and then disappearing at two o’clock in the morning.”
Brinna shook her head, trying to clear thoughts muddied by fear. “Is her car still here? And what about the girl, Ivana?” she rasped, swallowing as her voice threatened to break completely.
“The girl?” Klein’s expression told Brinna he knew nothing about Ivana, and she remembered that her mother’s role in housing Ivana was not supposed to be on any paperwork. The question How did they find her, then? shot through her brain like a bullet train. She breathed deeply and composed herself before briefly explaining to Klein about Ivana staying with her mother.
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