Iris Johansen - Chasing the Night

Natalie inclined her head. “I’m very happy to meet you. I hope you can help Catherine. I couldn’t do it. She wanted me to tell her about-but I couldn’t-I might have known something, but by the time she came to that…place, it was gone.”

“We’ll help her,” Eve said gently. “Everything is all right, Natalie.” She stepped forward. “And it will be better when I try that stew. I’m very hungry.”

Natalie smiled. “Then please come in. Kelsov doesn’t bring company very often. This stew is what you might call a test case.”

“Your test case was a complete success,” Joe said as he lifted his napkin to his lips. “You’re quite a cook.”

“My mother taught me before she left us.” A shadow crossed her face. “But I forgot how to do it. I forgot a lot of things.”

“It’s coming back to you,” Kelsov said. “And if it doesn’t, sometimes new is better.”

“He always says that,” Natalie said as she rose to her feet. “Go into the living room while I stack the dishes. I’ll bring coffee.”

“I’ll help,” Catherine said.

Natalie shook her head. “It’s my job. I have to pay for my keep some way.” She started to stack the bowls. “Kelsov says it’s important for me.”

“And she believes me. She doesn’t realize it’s because I’ve always wanted a slave,” Kelsov said, straight-faced.

“Yes, I believe you.” She didn’t look at him as she turned toward the huge country sink. “I’ll always believe you.”

Kelsov rose to his feet. “You see what I’m up against? I’m such a good liar, and it’s all wasted.” He turned and led them from the small kitchen to the adjoining living room. “How can I fight her?”

“You can’t,” Eve said as she dropped down on the faded easy chair by the fire. “Why would you want to? She’s very fragile.”

“If I treat her too gently, she’ll never come into her full strength,” Kelsov said. “That bastard took her when she was only a kid, and what he did stunted her. It wasn’t only the mental and physical torture. He made her feel so helpless, she withdrew into herself.” He sat down and stretched his long legs out before him. “So I pull her out of the shell. Sometimes it hurts her, but that’s too bad. It’s got to be done even if she hates me.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Eve had watched the strange interaction between the two of them at dinner. Close. So close. Natalie had been very quiet, but Eve was sure she had not missed a word or gesture that had issued from Kelsov. Kelsov had spoken very seldom to Natalie, and he had clearly been trying to avoid showing any concern, but his attitude had been watchful, protective. “Would she be better off in a rehabilitation center?”

“Yes. God knows, she shouldn’t be around me. I probably remind her of Rakovac and all the men who abused her. I drink too much on occasion, I don’t bring women home, but she knows I have them.” He grimaced. “And Catherine will tell you that I’m not a gentle man.”

But he was gentle with Natalie. “Then why not get her to go where she wouldn’t be exposed to you?”

“I tried that a month after she came to me. A nice little rest home in the Alps.” He shook his head. “She tried to commit suicide the night I left her. I won’t do that again.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Catherine said.

“It wasn’t your business any longer. You turned her over to me. She was mine.”

“It’s not safe for her. Rakovac hates you. He hasn’t tried to hunt you down since you’ve been keeping a low profile. But he could find out she’s with you and come after her. Send her away. She’s stronger now.”

“I won’t do that again,” he repeated. “We’ll get through this together. Sometimes you can’t pick and choose. You have to accept the inevitable and make the best of it.”

“She’s doing so well. I’d hate to have-”

A gentle ping from Eve’s computer on the console across the room.

“E-mail!” Eve jumped from her chair and was at the bureau where she’d left the computer in seconds. She flipped open the laptop as she carried it back to the chair. “It’s about time.”

“The institute?” Joe asked.

She nodded absently as she pulled up the message. “And it seems to be fairly inclusive by the size of it.” Her gaze was flying over the e-mail. “The twisted tree near the grave appears to be pine. Under intense magnification, they discerned another tree in the background that they’re sure is birch. The earth is slightly damp and suggests either recent rainfall after the exhumation or that the grave is located in a marsh.” She leaned forward. “They’re leaning heavily toward the latter because of the piece of fungus on the left thigh.”

“The moss?” Catherine asked.

“Only it’s not moss, it’s lichen. Which is usually a cross between alga and fungal filaments.”

“And does it exist in a marsh?” Catherine was suddenly beside her, looking down at the e-mail. “Birch and pine are found in marshes.”

Eve nodded. “There are over twenty thousand different kinds of lichen known, but that gray lichen with orange markings is from a peat bog. And it’s not that common, thank God. It exists in several places in northern Europe, but in Russia it’s been found only near the Caspian Sea and in the marshes of the Ivanova region.”

“Ivanova,” Kelsov murmured. “Oh, yes, I know those marshes.”

Catherine’s gaze flew to his face. “And that means Rakovac would know them.”

“Like the back of his hand.” Kelsov’s lips twisted. “I can still feel the chill of the nights we spent in those marshes. Russia had given refuge to our enemies, the Ossetians, and a large number settled there. We went after them. I killed my first man near there and threw his body into a peat bog. I was twelve, and I had nightmares for years of watching that yellow mud suck him down.”

“So if Rakovac was going to hide a grave, it could be near there?”

“Much more likely than the Caspian Sea,” Kelsov said. “But that marshland area extends for miles. The grave won’t be easy to find if he didn’t decide just to throw the skeleton into the bog instead of returning it to the grave.”

“I think he buried the skeleton again,” Eve said. “He kept taunting me about working on Luke’s skull. I’d have to have access to it if I’m to do a reconstruction. He wants me to find it. Or, at least, he wants to dangle it in front of us. If Rakovac can kill us, then he’ll probably do it, but I think he’d prefer that he stretch it out a bit.”

“Yes, he would,” Natalie whispered. She was standing in the doorway, carrying a tray, and her face was parchment pale. “He likes to take his time and make you hurt.”

“I’ll take that.” Joe was on his feet and taking the tray. “Sit down. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

“No, I’ll do it. My job…”

Kelsov pushed her into a chair. “You’re officially on vacation.” He poured a cup of coffee and put it into her hands. “But only for the next twenty minutes. Then you’re back on the clock.”

She lifted the cup to her lips. “I’m sorry.” She took a deep drink of coffee. “You’ve found him?”

“We’re close. We think we can find the place where he’ll set up an ambush. We might be able to turn it on him.”

She shook her head. “That’s not good. You’re not sure. You have to be sure with him. I had no plan. I just ran. I should have had a plan.”

Such simple words but threaded with pain, Eve thought. Through this woman, her vision of Rakovac was becoming vividly alive and hideous. “We’ll have a plan. First, we have to see if we can find that grave.” She looked at Kelsov. “Do you have any contacts in that area who might be able to tell you anything?”