Long Way Home

by Tom Crown

  “You don’t know about the liquor he sold?” Alex continued.

  “He said that’s how you two met!”

  Roman’s taunting interventions made it difficult for her to concentrate. Alex glared at him, seeming to have picked up on that, and Roman eventually took a step back.

  Alex focused on her again, smirking now. “You were fourteen, right? He liked that, didn’t he? We know he did.”

  She stared at him, realizing she should be just as terrified of their insight into her personal life as she was of their physical domination. She had thought Mats barely spoke with these people, and when he did, only told stumbling jokes. She had been wrong.

  “You don’t know anything about anything at all?” Alex asked. “You don’t know about the money he made?”

  She shook her head.

  Alex leaned closer, his face almost touching hers. “Why would a pretty girl like you be with a man like that if you didn’t know about the money he made? That doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?”

  His face was much closer now, and she trembled with fear. He raised a hand toward her and grinned again. Suddenly he ripped the thin gold necklace from around her neck, snapping the chain. She felt the links cut deep into her skin and more tears welled in her eyes. She cursed her tears, but she couldn’t control them.

  “You don’t know about that jewelry around your neck?” His voice was significantly louder now. She flinched and tried to press herself into the wall, maybe to disappear. Her feet slipped against the floor, but she managed to stay upright. She didn’t, however, get even an inch away.

  Alex tossed the necklace to Roman, who grabbed it in midair and then spun it around a finger. It was a fairly recent item, a Valentine’s Day reconciliation gift from Mats. A hopeless gesture, but one she had accepted and wore from time to time. It had offered her peace and privacy in their small town, and, more importantly, more time to think.

  She touched her neck and felt the deep scratch left by the chain. Her trembling fingertips stung the skin, and she pulled the hand back. She looked at her fingertips but there was no blood.

  “He owes fifty thousand Euros,” Alex said. “Fifty thousand. And I want it back in twenty-four hours.”

  “I don’t have any money!” She shook her head desperately, hoping to convince him. Euros were worth more than dollars and a whole lot more than Swedish crowns. If it had been Swedish currency she might have been able to borrow it somehow, but never fifty thousand Euros.

  Alex studied her carefully. He took his time, five seconds, ten, watching for a tell-tale movement, a sign she was lying. She had been interrogated before and knew the procedure. He would wait her out with that confident smirk on his face. It seemed to be male instinct.

  She fought hard not to think about the money in Katia’s bag, an almost impossible feat, but there were ways to do it well enough. To begin with she wasn’t sure the money in the bag was the fifty thousand or perhaps some other money, maybe much more, maybe much less, from some other place. Mentioning that money here might make matters a whole lot worse. Admitting to any money at all was likely a very bad idea indeed. Confusion was her best option, and also the closest to the truth.

  She shook her head again, but the hard look in Alex’s eyes made her stop.

  “I know about every young woman in this town,” Alex continued, “how they dress, where they go, and I know you can come up with some money if you really want to. You’ve always been able to get things your way.”

  Suddenly he grabbed her and shoved her hard against the wall. Her left leg hit the wireframe wastebasket next to the sink and it clattered to the floor. This certainly wasn’t her way, she wanted to tell him, but she kept her mouth shut.

  “I’m not going to bruise your body now,” Alex said as the pain from the impact with the wastebasket crept up her leg. “But I could. You know I could. So, when you think about it, you really want to get me that money. Think about it as an investment in your good looks. You’ll need them now that Mats is gone.”

  He pushed her against the wall again and leaned closer. Much closer. She could feel his breath on her face. She could smell him. He leaned even closer yet, and then pressed his mouth against hers. She felt her lips cut against her teeth, and then she felt his tongue. She lashed out with her hands and wriggled under his grip. He pulled back and let her sink to the floor.

  She cried then and hid her face between her knees. He tossed her a note that landed near her shoes.

  “Twenty-four hours,” he said.

  “You drove Mats crazy, you know that?” Roman said and leaned down toward her, but Alex pushed him toward the door, cutting him short. Their business was done.

  She looked up and watched the door close behind them.

  She had driven Mats crazy. Roman was right about that, but it was also a fact that when Mats had really come after her, he had died.

  The guilt she expected to feel didn’t appear. Instead, she felt empowered.

  He had come after her. And he had died.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  RYAN OPENED THE balcony door at the end of the hallway and peered out. He had only one bag of clothing to drag along, the cameras in a separate case, and the key to the room he hadn’t used. He considered leaving the key in the door and climbing down the fire escape to avoid further trouble, but he didn’t trust his legs, and he wasn’t too sure about his arms either. And no matter how that climb might go, he didn’t want to sneak out like that. He would simply go down to the lobby and hope he didn’t meet any more friendly locals along the way.

  He took a deep breath of the fresh air. It was strange to hear birds singing. Even the ever-industrious mosquitoes were an odd sign of life, entirely inappropriate, it seemed, on such an unforgiving morning.

  Hopefully the woman behind the desk already knew what had happened to him. Perhaps she had even known beforehand, when he stepped through the front door. If so, at least she wouldn’t be inclined to call for an ambulance or the police. He didn’t want any of that. The men had added significantly to his bruises from the day before, but as far as he could tell he wasn’t seriously injured. He had lost consciousness for a brief moment down on the floor, but it couldn’t have been more than seconds. Just enough for those men to head down the stairs and out the door.

  He tried to spot Steve’s vehicle, but couldn’t see it from where he was standing. Hopefully Steve would stop right at the front steps. Ryan didn’t want to walk very far looking the way he did. Victim or attacker, it didn’t matter. Nothing good would come from it.

  He moved back inside and made it down the stairs with his luggage, steadying himself against the wall as he went. In the lobby, only the open magazine was visible behind the counter. His clumsy shuffle down the stairs had given the woman plenty of warning, and she had made the easy choice, avoiding him altogether. That was just as well. He hadn’t wanted to speak to her before, and he had little reason to change his mind about it now.

  He slid the room key across the counter and dropped it on the magazine. She was probably watching him from somewhere, behind some door, but if she wasn’t, she would still easily find the key where he had left it. He was done.

  Limping down the steps outside, he instantly spotted Steve’ Land Rover racing toward him. Steve flicked the lights and then brought the vehicle right up to the front steps.

  Ryan flung the rear door open, climbed in next to Katia in the back, and lifted his bags over the seat to the storage compartment.

  Katia gasped when he turned fully her way. His face looked bad, he remembered, worse than before, bruised and swollen.

  “What happened?” Steve asked, turning in his seat. “Same guys?”

  Ryan nodded once, but then it hurt too much to move his head. “Finishing what they started.”

  “Let me see,” Katia said, and to his surprise, she moved her hands toward his face. She studied the bruises expertly, moving her fingertips slowly just above his burning skin. “It won’t scar,” she said aft
er a moment and then looked down. She shook her head, as if to take it back, but then she glanced up. “My mother was a nurse.”

  It was the first piece of personal information she had volunteered, and he looked at her to see if more was coming. Her attention turned on and off at an instant, but when it was there he liked it very much. Perhaps it was just seeing life in her, instead of her defensive silence, but perhaps he saw something more personal too, something he hadn’t seen in a long time — a guarded understanding.

  Steve turned around in his seat and looked at Ryan.

  “We better check on Jenny,” he said. He took out his mobile phone and shifted into reverse in one motion.

  Ryan looked at Katia again. She was studying one of the many maps Steve had lying on the backseat. Her eyes had found a larger map of Europe, and he saw she was focusing on Ukraine. Yet her attention seemed to be skipping, her gaze now tracing a long northbound route through Europe. Milan, Prague, Berlin, Stockholm, every place having a painful meaning for her.

  That would end here, Ryan silently promised himself. One way or another, it would end here.

  * * * *

  Jenny’s phone rang again, vibrating in her hand. She almost let the call go to voicemail but then looked at the display, saw Steve’s name, and felt relief surge in her. She took a deep breath, forced a smile to her face, and took the call.

  “Hi Steve.” She struggled to compose herself, keep her voice even. She stood up and looked in the mirror.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “I’m asking—“

  “Me?” she interrupted. “I’m okay.” She straightened her tangled hair and wiped what remained of the tears from her cheeks, careful not to further ruin her makeup.

  “Are you sure? You sound different.”

  She took another deep breath, slower now. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m asking because we just picked up Ryan, and he’s taken a pretty bad beating. Some of the guys from last night, if I understood correctly. Not the Russians, some other guys. I think you know them.”

  Jenny didn’t answer. She could very well imagine what Mats’s friends had done. She had seen it before.

  “He says four guys,” Steve continued, “so probably one or two, then.” He chuckled, but it died off quickly.

  “Is he all right?”

  “Worse than yesterday,” Steve said. “So no, not very good.”

  “I’ll be right out. Or are you coming here? To the hospital? With Ryan, I mean.”

  “The hospital? He says no, he doesn’t need a doctor, but we’ll pick you up.”

  “Right now?”

  “In a couple of minutes. If you want. We’re all going back to my place.”

  “I do. Yes. I’d like that. Thanks.”

  Jenny ended the call. Steve’s cabin would be the perfect place for her to hide out, and if they all went there, it meant that Katia and her money were going there as well.

  She looked at her red eyes in the mirror and then noticed the deep scratch on her neck from the necklace. With her light summer clothing, she couldn’t really do anything to hide it. Instead, she grabbed a paper towel and ran some cold water. She dabbed her skin and shivered as stray drops snaked down her back. The paper towel felt lukewarm after a few seconds and she tossed it in the wastebasket that had fallen to the floor but was still standing. The scratch was still just as visible, but the skin around it was redder. It was a slight improvement, the contrast not as stark.

  She stepped back and took in her appearance, her hair, her clothes, her shoes, and spotted the note on the floor. She picked it up and looked at a hand-written phone number. She wondered what would happen if she took it to the police. The note must have fingerprints. The room had fingerprints. And there were plenty of people at the hospital right now. Her story could be corroborated. But all she could accomplish with the evidence at hand was to place a note handled by Alex and Roman in the restroom, and that in itself wasn’t very meaningful.

  Katia’s money was her best option. That would get her off the hook with Alex and Roman, and let her focus on getting away from this town once and for all. That’s what she wanted, now more than ever, and for once she wouldn’t let anything or anyone stand in her way.

  She cracked the door open and looked around. A nurse passed pushing a cart and gave her a curious look, but Jenny ignored her. She stepped out into the corridor and headed back toward the restaurant. Mats’s family was no longer there, and she felt ashamed when she realized that was such a great relief. She strode quickly past and out to the reception area.

  The Land Rover wasn’t far away. She hurried across the parking lot and got inside. Steve immediately smiled and started to say something, but she turned around in her seat before he could and took in Ryan’s battered face.

  “Mats’s friends did that?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. Perhaps she had only asked to put some distance between herself and them, and position herself as an outsider. She was calculating very quickly now.

  Ryan nodded. The movement seemed painful with the bruising and the swelling.

  Jenny turned back again, fastening her seatbelt, but then noticed Katia studying her carefully in the mirror. Something about the look in her eyes made her pause.

  “Are you okay?” Katia asked with a surprising fluency.

  “Me? I’m fine. Thank you.” Jenny shook her head. “Not fine, but, you know, fine considering. Thanks for asking.” She looked at Ryan’s face again. “We really need to get that taken care of, but Mats’s family is still in there, and I don’t think we should...”

  “Yes,” Ryan said. “I know. I’ll pass.”

  “Back to the cabin then?” Steve asked and released the parking brake without waiting for an answer.

  Jenny sank down in her seat and adjusted the belt.

  “What a day, huh?” Steve continued, as he took the car back out on the road. He squinted at the morning sun. “And it’s only just begun.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  RYAN SAT AT the kitchen table with Steve, tending to his own wounds with an ice pack and some aspirin. He would need better medical attention at some point, but for now, this would have to do.

  “There were four?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Bad odds.”

  “It seems that’s the way they do it around here.”

  “All the more reason to stick together then.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan took a deep breath and looked out the window at the dark-green forest along the lake, the thick undergrowth, the rocky ground underneath. He remembered a Swedish childhood book about a girl and a boy growing up in competing bands of robbers in a forest filled with trolls and wondrous creatures. This forest looked very much like the one he had imagined when reading that book, the same dusky colors and the light filtering through the trees in the same way.

  Mattis’s castle. That’s what it was called, that fort the girl had lived in, and the one the other robbers had wanted as well. There was always that same competition over scarce resources, even in bedtime stories. But he knew he was intellectualizing. It was the name that had struck home. Mattis. Mats.

  He could barely see the man’s face anymore. It was always moving, turning back and forth between him and the road, him and Jenny, him and the others around them. Always moving away. Ryan had fought with him from the moment they had met until the man was dead, and he hadn’t even known him. That was wrong in so many ways. He had met many strangers over this last year, become close to some in an instant, while others had become enemies just as fast. Mortal enemies.

  Steve got up from the table and went to the refrigerator. He opened the door and looked inside. “Hungry?”

  Ryan shook his head. His jaw hurt and his lips were swollen, but it was his stomach that really vetoed the idea.

  “Me neither.” Steve closed the refrigerator. “Remember when we all had a freezer full of film rolls? Before digital?”

  Ryan ventured a grin. “Just barely.”<
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  Steve chuckled and looked out the window. “I should get my stuff out of the car.”

  Ryan pushed away from the kitchen table. “Need a hand?”

  “No.” Steve shook his head. “You should stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

  Ryan tried to stand. He felt himself swaying and steadied himself against the table, but suddenly even his arms felt too weak.

  “Hey.” Jenny was right behind him.

  He turned around, ever so slowly.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, frowning when she saw his face.

  “Yeah. Still a little lightheaded, I guess.”

  “Want me to get you something? You should sit.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Really? You look exhausted. A glass of water?” She took a step toward the sink.

  “No. But wait.”

  “No water?”

  Ryan shook his head and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The waterfall. The rifle’s still there.”

  Jenny looked at the front door as if she wanted to bolt.

  “The rifle, and those photos.” He waited for her to reply, or even turn back toward him, but she did neither. “We need to go back.”

  “Maybe Steve...” she began, but then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what? You don’t know how much you want to tell him?” Ryan looked out the kitchen window and saw Steve walking back toward the cabin with a camera bag in one hand and a tripod in the other. “We don’t really know what we’re dealing with here, do we? A crime, though, and we can’t just let it be.”

  Jenny turned toward him. “I’m sorry, I can’t think about this now. I just came from the hospital. I need to take a shower. I need—“

  The front door opened, and a moment later Steve appeared in the doorway, balancing the camera tripod like a weapon.