With his hands surprisingly steady, considering what he had just done, what he was about to do, he opened the phone, punched in the numbers, and called Tommy Christiano.

TOMMY FELL SILENT. Michael knew enough to wait it out. His head throbbed, his eyes burned.

“Is he dead?” Tommy asked.

The truth was, Michael had no idea. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He had told Tommy everything, beginning with the phone call from the man called Aleksander Savisaar.

“You’ve got to come in, man.”

“I can’t, Tommy.”

“You have to. This is getting worse and worse. How long do you think it will be before Powell adds it up?”

“This is my family, man. We can’t call in the cavalry. Not until I know the play.”

“You can’t do this alone.”

“It’s the only way.”

Tommy quieted again. Michael glanced at his watch. He had three minutes to get back inside the motel room.

“Powell just called here,” Tommy said. “She was asking about Abby.”

“What? Abby? Why?”

“She wouldn’t say.”

Michael tried to anticipate the course of the investigation. “What did she ask?”

“She asked about where Abby worked. About where she used to work.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth,” Tommy said. “It’s not like she couldn’t get the information elsewhere.”

Michael tried to process it all, but everything seemed to bottleneck.

“What are you going to do?” Tommy asked.

Good question, Michael thought. “I’m going to go back into the room and wait for the call. Then I’m going to my house.”

“You’ll never get there in thirty minutes.”

“I’m going to try,” Michael said. “And Tommy?”

“What?”

“Promise me you’re not going to make a move.”

Tommy took a moment, perhaps weighing all the odds. “I’ll meet you.”

“No,” Michael said. “Look. I’ve got this phone. Have you got the number on that end?”

Michael could hear Tommy scribbling on a pad. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay. Just put your ear to the rail and call me the second you know something. If Powell gets any closer, you call.”

“Mickey,” he said. “You’ve got to –”

“I know, man. I know.”

Michael closed the phone, put it on vibrate, slipped it into his pocket. He listened. There were no sounds coming from the trunk of the car.

He looked into the rear-view mirror. The sight he saw there unnerved him. His face was dotted and streaked with blood, slightly swollen and bruised. He reached into the Burger King bag, pulled out a handful of napkins. He opened the forty-ounce, dampened the napkins, and did his best to clean his face.

He looked again. Clean enough. His ears were still ringing from the blow he had taken to the side of his face, his heart was pounding, his head ached. He said a silent prayer, put his hand on the door. He had sixty seconds to get into the room. He prayed his watch was accurate – that Kolya’s watch was accurate – and that he had not missed the call. He opened the car door, got out.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” the voice behind him shouted.

Michael spun around. Flashing lights dazzled his eyes.

He was surrounded by police cars.

FORTY

Abby could not wait any longer. Every second the girls were gone, every second she did not know Michael’s whereabouts, was another arrow in her heart. Keeping the gun on Kolya, she had made a number of phone calls. She had called the office and was told Michael had left for the day. She had called his cellphone and gotten voicemail. She had called a few of his haunts – the Austin Ale House, the Sly Fox. No one had seen him. She almost called Tommy, but Tommy would see right through her. Tommy would know something was terribly wrong.

She wanted to put an end to this, to see the reassuring presence of a police car in her drive, the calm, assured manner of detectives and FBI agents, authority figures who could take this out of her trembling hands. She wanted to hold her husband, her girls.

But unless she knew her daughters would be safe, she could not take that chance. She looked out the window for what was probably the fiftieth time in the past ten minutes.

“You know, he’s probably not coming back,” Kolya said. He was slumped in the upholstered chair in the corner, a chair that until recently had been a putty velvet. Now it was caked and streaked with deep brown blood. He was breathing through his mouth, which for him, Abby thought, was probably business as usual.

“Shut up.”

“You know what I think, Mrs ADA? I think he took your precious little girls and he hit the road. God only knows what he’s doing with them right this second. He’s probably –”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Abby pointed the .25 at him. Kolya didn’t react. Abby wondered just how many times this man had had a weapon shoved in his face over the years. “I don’t want to hear another word. You don’t get to talk.”

Kolya acquiesced. For the moment. He shifted his weight in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Abby hoped he was never going to be comfortable for the rest of his life. Hopefully he would spend it in a prison cell.

Kolya looked at his watch. “Fuck this. I’m outta here.” He struggled to his feet.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

Abby tensed. “Sit down.”

Kolya stood, facing her, not ten feet away, his hands behind his back. “No.”

This isn’t happening, Abby thought. “I swear to God I will put a bullet in your head. Now sit down.”

Kolya smirked. “You a killer now? That what you are? A killer nurse?” He edged a few inches toward her. “I don’t think so.”

Abby backed up. She cocked the weapon. “Sit down. Don’t make me do this.”

Kolya looked around. “So, what’s stopping you? There’s no one here. Who’s gonna know it was cold-blooded murder?” He took another step. He was five feet away now. “All you gotta do is tell them I tried to jump your bones. They’ll believe you. You being a citizen and all.”

Abby backed up another inch. She was almost against the closet now. “Stop.”

Kolya stopped moving forward, his hands still behind his back. “You know what? I don’t think you can do it, Mrs ADA. I think you’re all talk. Just like your husband.”

“Shut up,” Abby said, her voice cracking. “Just shut up!”

Kolya took another small step forward, and suddenly there was another voice in the room. Somebody talking about how the lottery jackpot was up to $245 million, and how you too could be a winner. Somehow the flat-screen television on the dresser had clicked to life. Instinctively, Abby glanced at it. And understood. This was why Kolya had his hands behind his back. He had the remote. He was trying to distract her, and it worked. She only looked away for a second, but it was long enough for Kolya. He lunged across the room. For a short, stocky man he was incredibly fast.

Abby fell back against the wall, raised the gun, and pulled the trigger. Twice.

Nothing. The weapon didn’t fire. It was empty.

Once Kolya realized he was not going to be shot and killed in this suburban house in Eden Falls, New York, Abby saw the full animal emerge.

In a second he was on top of her. “You fuckin’ cunt! I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

Kolya lashed out with his right hand, catching her high on her forehead. The blow knocked her back to the dresser, shattering perfume bottles, toppling pictures, dumping the television onto the floor. Before she could recover her balance Kolya grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the bed. Abby kicked her feet, flailed her arms, trying to connect, but he was too strong.

“But first I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”

He threw her to the bed, slapped her a second time. This time the blow was more powerful, more expertly leveraged. Abby felt herself fall to the edge of consciousness. Still she fought. Kolya pulled out his small pocket knife. He cut her dress away from her body, tearing it off, flinging it across the room.