Was he hiding?
Alex tried to catch his breath, make his mind work. He had to think.
An eerie feeling of being watched crept down his spine. He turned slowly, sharpening his gaze on each flickering shadow. There were too many trees, too many bushes, all rustling in the whispering breeze. As he listened, the sounds of the night grew louder, the crickets, the faint honk of a distant horn, the rumble of traffic on a nearby road, the sound of laughter from one of the open apartment windows surrounding the park.
"Come out, dammit," he said aloud. "Talk to me. Tell me what you want."
Nothing but silence answered his call. Was the man waiting, watching? Or was he gone? Had he found a way out that wasn't obvious to Alex?
If he had…
Julia was alone in the car. And she was the one they wanted.
What the hell was he doing?
Turning, Alex ran back the way he'd come, desperately hoping Julia was all right.
Chapter 14
Julia flinched at the sound of footsteps coming down the street behind her. She was almost afraid to look. What if it wasn't Alex? What if it was the man who had tried to grab her bag? What if he'd hurt Alex and come back to get her?
She sank down into the seat, hoping he wouldn't see her.
The footsteps drew closer, then paused. Someone whistled. A shadow moved across the front seat, and the door handle on the passenger side was flipped. It was locked. It didn't open. The man stumbled as he tried the door again.
She couldn't breathe. She didn't know what to do. Should she start the car, try to pull out? What if Alex came back and she wasn't there?
Before she could come up with an answer, the man moved on.
It wasn't the same guy, she realized. This man was older, wearing a bulky coat and pants. His hair was long, and he wore a woolen cap on his head. He had a paper bag in his hand, and as she watched, he raised it to his lips and took a swig. He continued on, trying the door handle on every car parked along the street.
He was probably homeless and looking for somewhere to sleep, she realized. He wasn't after her. She forced herself to breathe again.
Until she heard the sound of someone running.
She'd never been as scared of the night as she was right now.
Please let it be Alex, she prayed. She closed her eyes, afraid to look. Someone tapped on the window. She tensed, then relaxed when she heard his voice.
"Julia, it's okay. Let me in."
She flipped the locks with a wave of relief, and Alex slid into the passenger seat. "Thank God, you're all right," she said, flinging herself into his arms. She hugged him tight, not wanting him to let her go. He didn't. He pressed her face into the curve of his neck, his hand cupping the back of her head. She could feel his pulse jumping beneath his skin, and she could smell the sweat of his desperate chase. But he was safe. So was she. And they were together.
Finally, Alex pushed away, his eyes glittering in the shadows. "I lost him. I was afraid he'd come back here, afraid—" He cut himself off. She could finish the sentence in her head. He'd been scared for her, and fear was a character flaw as far as Alex was concerned. But in her mind, fear was a normal reaction to a terrifying situation.
"I'm all right," she assured him. "I was worried about you. I thought he might have had a knife or some other weapon."
"He ran into a park and disappeared. I didn't even get a good look at him. All I know is that he was fast."
"Was he blond? Did he have a baseball cap on his head? A man came up to me at the radio station earlier today, and he made me really nervous."
Alex's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"There was a guy watching me when I was talking to Christine Delaney. He came up to me when she left, and he said something I didn't understand. I think it might have been in Russian. My friends interrupted us, and he took off. Do you think it was the same guy?"
"Could have been. Why didn't you tell me about him before?"
"Didn't I?" she asked in confusion. "I guess I told Michael or Liz. I can't remember now. Did I also mention that Liz said a man with a thick, probably Russian accent called our apartment yesterday?"
"Goddammit, Julia," Alex swore. "What else don't I know?"
"I think that's it. I'm sorry, but everything is happening so fast, and I don't know what goes together and what doesn't." Overwhelmed, she had the terrible feeling she might burst into tears at any moment.
Alex put his hand on her leg. "It's okay. It's fine. We'll deal with it all, Julia. Don't worry."
"The man who came at us just now… He was after my purse, don't you think?" she asked, trying to focus on one issue at a time. She'd had a few minutes to think, and she distinctly remembered the man trying to rip her bag off her shoulder.
"Yes," Alex said, meeting her gaze. "I'd say it's a safe bet he couldn't find whatever he was looking for at your apartment, so he decided you have it on you."
"Should we call the police?"
"Let's go back to my apartment first and take another look at the doll and the necklace. Maybe we missed something."
She nodded and turned the key in the ignition. She didn't realize she was shaking until she flooded the engine with too much gas.
"Easy, Julia," he murmured.
"I was so scared," she whispered. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white and her hands stung, but she didn't care, because it felt good to have something solid to hang on to. "When you disappeared, I didn't know what was going to happen." She looked at him and saw nothing but understanding and support. "I just got back in the car and protected myself. I should have gone after you, but I was a chicken."
"Sh—sh," he said. He leaned forward, putting a finger against her lips. "You did exactly the right thing."
She blinked back a tear. "I was so worried that I was going to lose you, Alex, and I've lost so much lately that—"
Alex cut off her words with a tender kiss. "I'm not that easy to lose," he murmured against her mouth. "I'm fine, Julia. He ran. He wasn't looking for a confrontation."
"Maybe not this time. What about the next time?"
"Don't think about all the things that might happen. It will drive you crazy." He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.
"I'm already feeling crazy. Should I stop looking for answers? Should I try to go back to my normal life? How do I even do that?"
"You can't go back to normal, because it doesn't exist anymore."
"If it ever did. What I thought was normal was a fictional story my mother created for me to live in. Nothing about my life was based on anything real."
"That's not true. Your mother may have created a cover story, but she lived her life with you, your sister and your stepfather. I don't think she was spying for the government when she was taking you to Girl Scouts," he added lightly. "In fact, we don't know if she was spying for the government at all. Maybe she simply went on that trip to Moscow because she wanted an adventure, and my father gave her the opportunity."
"I'd sure like to believe that. But if that were the case, why would she have hidden it from me? Why would she have disappeared from her parents' lives? Why would she have changed her name? Lived a lie?"
She wanted Alex to give her the answers, but she knew she was asking for too much. "She might have been spying the whole time I was growing up. How would I have known? Apparently she was very clever."
"I think your mother got out of the spy business, if she was ever in it, after that trip to Moscow, or maybe when she married your stepfather. From what you've told me about your idyllic childhood, I can't believe Sarah was anything but a devoted homemaker."
"I don't know what she was anymore, and that scares me, too," Julia confessed. "We were so close. We shared so many conversations. All the best moments of my life were with my mother. And now I can barely remember those times. My memory is blurred by all the terrible lies that continue to be revealed. Now when I close my eyes, I see Susan Davidson's face c
rumpled in pain when she realized Sarah had been alive. I hear Brady telling me that Sarah was in Moscow. Even your voice echoes through my head—your words, I saw your mother in the square that day.' What's real? What's not real? Why don't I know?"
"Your brain is too full," Alex replied, a smile spreading across his lips. "You've had a lot of shocks tonight. Give yourself a break. You don't have to figure everything out in the next five minutes."
"Maybe I do," she countered. "Who knows what the next five minutes will bring?"
"Nothing bad, I promise. Even the bad guys need to rest."
"How can you joke?"
"Because worrying is a waste of energy. Let's go home." He paused, his eyes suddenly sparkling. "I have an idea. Why don't you let me drive?"
His obvious attempt to regain control of the car made her smile back at him. "No way. I drove us here. I'll drive us back."
His sigh was long and dramatic, and eased the tension of the moment. "If you must."
"I must," she replied, her hands steadier now as she pulled away from the curb.
"I'll sleep on the couch," Julia said as they climbed the stairs to Alex's apartment a short while later. I don't want to completely disrupt your life."
"A little late for that sentiment. You're the one who knocked on my door last week and started the ball rolling."
"It's not all my fault. You took the picture. You started this twenty-five years ago."
"Thanks for the reminder." He paused as he took out his key. "You know we slept together last night and it was just fine."
It hadn't been just fine. She'd spent most of the night fighting an urge to roll into his arms and make love to him. And last night she'd had a barrier, an engagement ring and a fiance. Now she had neither. But she still had a brain, and right now it was telling her that getting further involved with Alex would not be a good idea. She might not have wanted the steady, suffocating relationship Michael had offered, but she also didn't want to get her heart trounced by a love 'em and leave 'em type, no matter how sexy he was.
"The couch works for me," she said lightly. "Unless you'd rather I go to my dad's apartment and get out of your hair. I just don't want to put him in danger."
"No, you can stay here." Alex opened the door and flipped on the light.
Julia gasped at the sight that greeted them. Whoever had ransacked her apartment had done the same to Alex's, with just as much brutality and violence. Every piece of furniture had been upended, flipped over, ripped, cut, trashed. Even Alex's photographs had been snatched from the walls, the tables, the bookcase. Shattered glass lay on the floor where some of the picture frames had been thrown in ruthless abandon. The fury of the search seemed even worse here, as if the person had grown more frustrated and angry with each passing second.
"Dammit," Alex swore. "I should have seen this coming."
She should have seen it coming, too. Why hadn't she considered the fact that someone might follow her to Alex's apartment?
"I swear, if they broke my camera equipment…" Alex disappeared into the bedroom before Julia could tell him to be careful. She could hear him opening the closet door, slamming a dresser, muttering to himself. She was afraid to move, worried she'd step on something important, do even more damage.
Alex finally returned, looking marginally calmer. "The bedroom isn't as bad as this room," he said. "The cameras are okay. The film was stripped, but nothing was broken as far as I can tell."
"I'm sorry," she said, knowing the words weren't enough to cover the destruction. "They must have followed me here. They must have been watching me. That man outside the restaurant… he probably did this, knowing we were there. When he didn't find what he was looking for here, he came after us. I can't believe how much I'm ruining your life."
"It's okay, Julia. It's just stuff. And you're not the one who's ruining my life."
"Of course I am. If I'd never seen that picture, never come here, never started asking questions—"
"Well, you did, and it's done. We can't start second-guessing now."
"So, what's next? Who's next? Are they going to go to my dad's apartment, to my aunt and uncle's home?" she asked. "They're probably watching me right now. And I hate that I don't even know who I'm fighting. It could be one person or two or three—who knows?"
"I certainly don't. It's possible there were two, one here, one at the restaurant watching us."
"Should we call the police?"
"In a minute. Let's take another look at the doll and the necklace. They're the only things you have that might have come from Russia."
They set two of the dining room chairs upright and sat down at the table. Julia opened her bag and pulled out the doll and the necklace. Alex immediately began to take the doll apart. "I know we're missing some dolls," he said. "I wonder if that's important." He examined each doll closely, his brows knitting into a frown as he peered particularly closely at the inside of one doll. "I think there's a number scratched here. It looks like a four to me. What do you think?"
She took the doll from his hand and saw the mark he was referring to. It did look like a four. "I think you're right," she said.
He picked up another doll. "And this one is a seven."
Julia took each doll as he discarded it. In the end they had five dolls and five numbers. "What do you think the numbers mean?"
Alex met her questioning gaze with a shrug of his shoulders. "I have no idea. The problem is, I don't think we have all the numbers, because we don't have all the dolls."
"We should go to that shop, Russian Treasures. Maybe that woman can tell us what the numbers mean. They could just be a production code."
"They could be, but there's nothing uniform about the way they look. It's as if someone scratched the numbers with a sharp knife."
His words sent a chill through her, and something stirred in her mind. A distant memory? She struggled to bring it into focus, but her brain wouldn't cooperate.
Alex sat back in his chair, a frown on his face now. "What's wrong?"
"I thought I was remembering something, but it wouldn't come back."
"Something about the doll?"
"I don't know," she said in frustration.
"Julia, don't force it. The memories will come back when they're supposed to."
"How can you be so patient?" she asked. "I thought you were a man of action."
"When it's called for. But I also know how to wait for the perfect light, the right angle, and the clearest view. Your mind takes photographs of everything you see just the way a camera does. Eventually it will develop those early pictures for you."
"Hopefully before I'm dead," she said, her words a mix of sarcasm and real fear.
"Hopefully," he agreed with a small smile. "We'll check out that Russian store tomorrow. Now, are you sure there isn't anything else your mother might have had that could link you to the doll or that trip to Russia?"
"I went through everything in the storage locker, but my father did say that their business and personal papers are at his apartment. I haven't had a chance to look through them yet." She glanced down at her watch and saw it was after ten. "It's too late to go there tonight. I'm a little afraid to go at all. What if they follow me there, too?" She sat up straight, a terrible idea crossing her mind. "Or perhaps they've already been to my dad's apartment. It wouldn't be difficult to find his address. He's listed in the phone book. I have to call him, make sure he's all right." She rifled through her handbag for her cell phone. "At least he lives in a security building. That's something."
"So far they've struck when no one has been home," Alex said reassuringly. "There's no reason to think that will change."
"There's no reason to think it won't, either. We don't know who we're dealing with. I'm calling my dad."
"And I'll call the police. I think it's time we brought them in on the whole story."
It was almost eleven o'clock at night when Alex ushered two detectives from the San Francisco Police Department out of his apartment.
Julia remained in the living room, her heart still racing. The last hour of questions had done nothing to reassure her that she was safe. After telling the police the story of the orphan girl photograph and Julia's recent picture in the Tribune, it had become clear to all of them that the latter event had triggered the break-ins.
Someone had seen Julia's picture, believed her to be that girl, and come looking for something. The detectives had examined the necklace and the matryoshka doll but had been unable to find a reason why the two tourist-type souvenirs would be important. Even if the doll was worth a couple thousand dollars, it wouldn't be enough to trigger the kind of vandalism and burglary that had taken place here tonight or at her apartment earlier that day. There had to be something else.
In the meantime, Julia had called her father and discovered that he was fine. She told him to be careful and alert to anyone lurking around his apartment building or near the restaurant. She'd left a message for Liz on her cell phone, wishing that her sister had picked up, so that Julia could know she was all right. It had occurred to her that Liz might have gone to Michael's house, so she'd even forced herself to call his apartment, but he hadn't answered, either, and she'd gotten the same voice mail on his cell phone. She had to trust they'd be okay as long as they weren't with her. She was the target, not them.
Alex shut the front door and headed for the kitchen. "How about a drink?" he suggested.
"Anything cold would be great."
"You got it." He returned a moment later with two bottles of mineral water.
Julia took a long draught, feeling a renewed sense of energy as the carbonation tickled her throat. Then she looked around the room, and her energy faded as quickly as it had come. They both had a lot of cleaning to do, not to mention major repairs. A lot of the furniture would have to be replaced or fixed before their apartments would really be livable again.
"I wish I'd never gone to the Legion of Honor," she murmured. "Look at the trouble I've brought myself, you, my family."
Alex shrugged, kicking off his shoes. "Never look back," he advised. "It doesn't do any good."
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