Soldier's Redemption (12 page)

“I’ll go get the car,” he said after a couple of bites that tasted like cardboard.

She met his gaze. “I’ll walk down the block and meet you on the corner.”

“Give me a few minutes. I have to go back to my room for my coat and things.” Before he left, he posed another question. “Are you in danger?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly, her voice evincing surprise at the question. “Who would I be in danger from?”

“I don’t know. But this cloak-and-dagger stuff is a little...suggestive.”

“I just want to go my own way without being followed like a troublesome child,” she said.

He kept his mouth shut, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed the slight pause before she answered and the way her gaze jumped around.

What had happened between the time she told him she was through with him and her showing up here hiding behind newspapers, begging him to help her find answers she hadn’t cared about the day before?

And what had happened to his resolve to find a way to use this woman without becoming emotionally involved with her? Obviously, life had finally accomplished what he would have once thought impossible: finding a way around his best intentions.

Chapter Nine

“Can you tell if we picked up a tail?” Skylar asked, adjusting the mirrors to view the road behind them.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said. “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Right now,” she said as he merged onto the highway leading away from the city. As he drove, she told him about her conversation with her uncle, about her worry that he hadn’t taken Skylar’s concerns about his employee seriously enough and that his goal of protecting her from the harsh realities of his life would come back to bite him.

It was obvious to Cole that Skylar still believed in her uncle, and once again, his own doubts surfaced. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that a man couldn’t be cruel to one group of people and kind to another, but the disconnect between what Skylar knew of her uncle and what Cole suspected of his past were a world apart. They would never agree on this issue, and that meant there was no future for them unless he could prove he was right.

But wait, what was he thinking? This wasn’t about the future. This was about the past, and the truth was that Skylar Pope was no longer of any use to him. She’d disclosed that her uncle had pegged Cole as a troublemaker.

So, get through this day and then announce he was leaving Traterg for good and go underground, investigate Futura from a different angle, let Skylar go. Just get through today. Maybe Irina would have information that would tie this whole thing up with a bow, and he could retreat in time to salvage something of worth.

“After I got it in my head that my uncle would have me trailed to make sure I was safe, I had to get out of that house,” she said. “And now, frankly, I’m not sure how to go back.”

So that’s why she’d come to him.

“There’s more, though,” she added. “There’s that woman who keeps showing up, Svetlana Dacho. Last night I went to see her. I thought maybe there was a connection between Aneta and her daughter, but it doesn’t appear there is and yet she mentioned a friend of her daughter’s, a girl named Katerina who also works at the café and who is apparently spending time with Banderas. Svetlana is terrified that he’ll come after her if he hears she tried to kill him. Unfortunately, I told my uncle about her, including her name. He’ll have no reason not to share it with Ian, so I think I’ve put her in danger.”

“And what does all this have to do with Aneta?”

“Uncovering why Aneta stole that painting is important to my aunt, who also wants to know why Aneta was murdered and is afraid my uncle will keep the truth from her in an effort to protect her. It’s clear to me the police don’t really care one way or another who killed Aneta.”

“I agree,” he said. Now he knew why Skylar had changed her mind about coming—not because of him, because of her aunt. In a way, it was a relief. But, truthfully, it was also a disappointment.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said as though tuned into his thoughts. “I got cold feet and came off very righteous. I don’t know what got into me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize for looking out for yourself,” he said.

“You say that with such feeling.”

“You have good instincts. That’s all I’m saying.”

They drove in silence for a while as the traffic thinned and the countryside became more rural. He’d looked at a map the night before and knew Chiaro was a very small town off the main highway, tucked into the mountains. He hoped the roads weren’t icy or blocked. It would take at least two hours to drive from there to Slovo, somehow unload Skylar and go meet with Irina. Better make it three to be safe. That left them just a couple of hours in Chiaro.

* * *

T
HE TOWN WAS SMALL
,
GRITTY
, industrial and located in a pass where the major business seemed to be the enormous train switching yard on the outskirts through which they entered. The skies were overcast anyway, so the weak light coupled with the clanging of train cars and sooty atmosphere made it feel like they’d left one country and entered another.

“Slow down,” Skylar said. “I looked up the Cazo family on the internet last night in my hotel room. There are a lot of them here in Chiaro, but I’m almost positive Aneta mentioned the name Inna once. There’s an Inna Cazo on a street that translates to Depot Way.”

“As in
train depot?
”

“I don’t know for sure, but it sounds reasonable.”

It took forty minutes of driving and backtracking before they finally found the right house, a two-story dark gray brick building that kind of squatted on a patch of earth dusted with snow.

They approached it warily. If this was the right house, the family might well be suspicious about people claiming to know their daughter who was murdered a mere four days before.

There was no bell to ring, so Cole knocked firmly, glancing down at Skylar and trying out an encouraging smile. As usual, just the sight of her face warmed him in continually unexpected ways.

After a moment or two, the door was opened by a woman who appeared to be in her seventies dressed head to toe in black.

Skylar started speaking at once, her voice soft and respectful and yet rapid as though she was afraid the woman would tell her to get lost. The one word he caught was the name:
Inna.
The woman nodded, her lips parting to reveal a smile minus a tooth or two. She seemed a little old to be Aneta’s mother, and hadn’t Skylar told him Aneta had a younger sister, as well? How was this possible? Maybe poverty and hard work had aged the woman far beyond her years.

The woman broke into a tearful smile and opened her arms. Skylar embraced her, wiping tears from her own cheeks as she answered what sounded like a slew of questions. Then she tugged Cole’s hand, and they stepped inside. The house smelled like roasting vegetables.

After settling them on a sofa cluttered with doilies, the older woman disappeared up the steep stairs, climbing slowly as though her hips hurt.

“Is that Aneta’s mother?” he whispered to Skylar.

“No, that’s her grandmother. It’s
her
name Aneta mentioned, not her mother’s. Burian is Aneta’s father. He works at the train yard. Anyway, Inna is going upstairs to see if Aneta’s mother, Yelena, will speak with us. I gather she’s getting ready for work. Things have been tough around here lately.”

“Yeah,” he said. The house had a chill that went deeper than the snow outside or the paucity of coal on the grate.

The old woman reappeared—alone. She and Skylar talked for several minutes, their voices soft and their speech quick. A noise on the stairwell caught Cole’s attention, and he looked up to find a woman of about forty with dark hair and way too much makeup hurling herself down the stairs. She looked from Cole to Skylar. “You are Aneta’s friends?” she cried in passable English.

The old woman said something to her, but the younger woman, who had to be Yelena, shook her head, responded in kind and then zeroed in on Skylar. “There’s not much time,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“I worked with her, yes,” Skylar said in English. “Inna told me your younger daughter is missing?”

Yelena spared a dismissive look at her mother. “Not missing. She had a great opportunity in America, and she took it.”

“How old is she?”

“Zina is fourteen. Why? Do you have news about who killed Aneta?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Skylar said. Aneta’s mother’s face crumbled just as her own mother’s had, but her eyes stayed dry. Given the heavy mascara that went with the red lips and rouged cheeks, that was probably just as well.

“You must leave,” she said. “It’s almost noon. I must be at work soon and Burian—he comes home for lunch.”

“Please,” Skylar persisted. “Did you know that Aneta stole a valuable piece of art right before she died and that she said she needed money to travel to help her sister?”

“My Aneta did not steal,” Yelena said. “I do not believe this story.”

“It’s true,” Skylar said. “Where was she going to go to help her sister? Do you know?”

“I tell you it is all lies! Who would she steal from? That rich American woman who is married to Luca Futura? Who would steal from such a woman with a husband like that? You are saying bad things about Aneta because she is not here to defend herself.”

“But what about Zina?”

The back door slammed. Both the older women immediately glanced at each other and then away as a man entered the room from what must be the kitchen. He was a big guy, easily as tall as Cole and fifty pounds heavier, wearing dark jeans and a heavy jacket that increased his bulk. His face was set in a terrible scowl, and he yelled at Aneta’s grandmother, who tried to placate him. She used the name
Burian
in response. So this was Aneta’s father.

With his arrival, the already semi-hostile atmosphere instantly deteriorated. The man stood with hands clenched at his sides, ignoring Skylar, casting Cole a steady, menacing glare.

Great. All Cole needed was a fight with a grieving, angry man. He raised his hands open-palmed in front of him, hoping the guy understood the universal sign for “Hey, Dude, no problems.” Burian growled a few sentences to his wife and laughed, which was fine with Cole. The grandmother spoke, and Burian advanced on her as though he meant to backhand her into silence. Cole’s muscles tightened. He might not fight for himself right this minute, but he’d be damned if he would stand there and watch the man hit an old woman.

Yelena caught Burian’s arm and held him back. She said something to him, and he waved her off, scowling at Cole before returning to the kitchen. Aneta’s grandmother hovered near the door, neither in the room nor outside it.

“He is just home for a while. You must leave,” Yelena said.

“I don’t understand your lack of concern for Zina,” Skylar persisted.

“I told you,” Yelena whispered. “Zina went to America. She left me money she knew I needed.”

“Where did she get the money?”

She lowered her voice. “From a wealthy woman who admired Zina’s excellent work.”

“Her work?”

“At the café where I am hostess. No one knows Zina is my daughter. There is a policy about families working together. Anyway, this woman offered Zina a big opportunity and she took it, so do not worry about her. And don’t tell Burian about the money. He would drink it away if given the chance. Go, now.”

“I think you should be worried about Zina,” Skylar said as Inna shooed them toward the door. “There’s another girl about the same age who also disappeared under very similar circumstances.”

“Zina rode on a jet all the way to America, and someday I will join her and maybe even Grandma, too. Just not Burian. He has the terrible temper. She is fine, that one. She is strong. It is Aneta who is dead.”

“Have you ever heard of a man named Ian Banderas?”

“No. I do not know that name,” Yelena said. “Now, please, you must go.”

* * *

“A
MERICA
?” C
OLE SAID
. “Why would some woman offer to pay a kid’s way to America?”

“I should have asked her what the woman looked like,” Skylar said, checking the visor mirror, more out of habit than because she expected she would find someone back there trailing them. “It was tense, wasn’t it? Especially at the last?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s obvious both women are scared to death of Burian. That’s what Yelena was telling me before Inna came downstairs. Inna didn’t come down at first because she was afraid to talk to us with her husband due to arrive soon. I guess the thought we might have news about Aneta’s murder changed her mind.”

“Where does the mother work? That was some pretty heavy-duty makeup.”

“As a hostess somewhere. She was late for work because she’d been crying all morning. Maybe that’s why she slapped on the makeup a little heavy. Anyway, according to Inna, Aneta did not have a new boyfriend, so her excuse for her distraction at work doesn’t seem to hold water.”

“Nor does the police point of view. But I don’t know—do modern young women living away from home tell their grandmothers about their boyfriends?”

“Good point,” Skylar admitted. “Still, you can’t get around the fact that there are lots of similarities in the way Aneta’s little sister and Svetlana’s daughter left home.”

“Dead of night, a little note to stay quiet, a little money to pay for their patience, at least for a while. And then nothing.”

“Exactly. Svetlana said her daughter was as good as dead. It gives me the chills. When we get back to Traterg, I’m going to ask Malina’s girlfriend at the café where she works if Malina ever mentioned America.”

“Good idea.”

She took a deep breath and glanced over at him as he drove. It was strange the way he seemed so familiar and yet not. She wanted to ask him about the clown figurine she’d found in his drawer; it seemed so out of character for a guy like him to travel with something like that on a business trip, but she couldn’t bring herself to invade his privacy.

What was it about him that had her coming and going? It wasn’t just his appearance or the way he looked at her or reached for her hand. It was more than that, yet on some primal level, it was all just that.