Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
At least getting in here wasn’t difficult this time. The Sarkissians like to play at being civic leaders, which means using their ample space for charitable functions. This evening’s event is for the children’s hospital and it’s being put on by a local minor league baseball team. The grounds are overrun by children, and those little bastards are fantastic at stirring up trouble and causing a general commotion. All we had to do was wait for one of them to knock over a fancy ice sculpture and there was our distraction. Annie’s singing not necessary.
“If you start panicking right now, someone might wonder why there are very large rats speaking English in the walls.”
I take a couple deep breaths to steady myself since he has a point. “If we get caught and I get tortured, I’m telling them everything about you. And I’m going to make up some really nasty rumors.”
“I’ll deserve it.”
“What’s the plan? I mean, for real?”
He shifts in the gloom. “Arsen keeps his important things in his personal area. I’m positive about that because I’ve already searched through most of the hidden spaces in the other sections.”
“That’s what you were doing in the piano?”
“Exactly. That safe only has cash and guns. Nothing fun.”
I’m tempted to go back. We’re breaking into my cousin’s inner sanctum on nothing more than a hunch, but I can see how his logic is leading him here. If he already exhausted the other options, surely this has to be all that’s left.
Reluctantly I start moving again. Arguing won’t do anything for me now and we’ve come too far to turn around. Only if I’m honest with myself, I’m not pissed because he’s making some educated guesses.
I’m pissed that he might be right, and I still don’t know what that’ll mean for me.
We come around a bend in the walls and slow. Ahead, light bleeds through several cracks in the plaster. I drop my pace down to a crawl, listening intently as a voice filters through from a room we’re about to pass.
I stop, peering out, and stifle a gasp.
It’s a child’s room, mostly blue. I catch glimpses of sports posters on the walls. A woman sitting in a bed is singing to a young boy. Brenden moves closer and looks over my shoulder at the pair.
It’s Lena Sarkissian, Arsen’s wife, and the little boy is their child, Roman.
The song is in Russian. I know bits and pieces, coming back to me in snatches of memory. My mother used to sing it too, back during her rare lucid evenings. Lena’s pretty with auburn hair and a nose ring. She’s in her dress clothes still and is obviously putting Roman to bed before she goes back to rejoin the party.
“Come on, we have to move,” Brenden whispers.
I don’t want to. The path leads behind the bed and if we’re not totally silent, Lena really will hear us. I’m tempted to make him wait, but we’re running on a clock here. Someone will notice we’re gone and start asking questions sooner or later, and if they realize we’re not at the party but our car is still out front—
I creep onwards, heart racing into my throat, as Lena continues her song.
Brenden stays close. He makes no sound and I feel like an oaf. The closer we get to Lena, the more I want to scream, until her voice is like she’s right here in the passageway with us. Fear clogs my throat, makes me want to gag, and the only thing that keeps me from losing my mind is Brenden’s touch in the darkness.
“I love you, little Romey,” Lena says, making kissing noises.
The little boy laughs. “You too, Mama.”
“Are you going to sleep good tonight, little love?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“That’s a good boy. You stay safe in here, right?”
“Mama?” Roman’s voice is tiny and adorable. He’s a nice kid. I’ve met him a few times. I bet he would’ve been fun to play with back when I was younger. “Are the mice back?”
Brenden’s hand grips my arm so hard it hurts. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.
“Why do you ask that, love?” Lena sounds like she’s no longer in bed, maybe a few feet away.
“I heard them.”
“Are you sure, darling? When was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it tonight? Last night?”
“Mama, are they gone?”
Brenden’s lips press to my ear. “Don’t move.”
I’m barely breathing. My heart’s a missile straight to my brain. It takes a lot of self-control not to start screaming.
“Don’t worry, little love, they’re all gone. Daddy had them taken care of, remember?”
“Okay, Mama.”
“Goodnight, darling.” More kissing noises then a door opens and closes.
We still don’t move. A ten count. Another ten count. Then Brenden nudges me and we start moving again.
I have no idea if Roman’s asleep or awake, but he doesn’t make any noise. We inch past his room and I don’t take a reasonable breath until I’m sure we’re away.