“Ivan!” she called out. Her tiny fingers circled around her mouth, pressing into her chubby cheeks, and she yelled louder, “Ivan! Идите сюда!”
An older boy, distinctly preteen with messy hair and pimples, came bounding over toward us.
“Что?” he said, annoyed.
Her tiny lips moved faster, words with too many consonants pouring from her mouth, as her hands took up residence on her hips.
Ivan, who I guessed was her brother, rolled his eyes and held out his hand toward me.
I handed over my phone, then watched as he studied it with a bit more comprehension than his sister. He turned it sideways, then back again.
“Botanical gardens,” he said. “Near the monastery.”
“Can I take a cab there? If I say ‘botanical gardens’ will they know what I mean?”
Ivan rubbed at a pimple on his chin, and then shrugged. “Metro is easier.” He pointed down the street and said, “There. To universytet.”
“University?”
“Yes. Is next to botanical gardens.”
I nodded. “Okay. Okay, thank you, Ivan.” I knelt down in front of the little girl, and I noticed the bottom of her dress was smudged with dirt. “And thank you, too.”
“Sasha,” Ivan told me.
“You were very helpful, Sasha.”
Her grin was adorable.
Sometimes, I wondered if I might have turned out differently if I’d had siblings. If I’d had a little sister like her to look after and protect, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten lost so deeply in my own troubles.
But there was no time to think of that now, to wander through the minefields of my past, not when I had someone who needed me in the present.
2
I EMERGED FROM the metro right next to the university, and the botanical gardens were easy enough to spot. They were situated right next to a monastery. Green domed roofs and golden spires took up the forefront of my view while the gardens stretched out behind it. With a river at my back and the cool breeze carrying the scent of flowers, I was distracted for a moment from my search.
If I didn’t need to find her, this would be the perfect place to draw.
Sketching calmed me. Maybe because it brought order to a disordered world. But it more than that. It allowed me to do more than just fix a chaotic world; it let me escape it. By focusing on the page, I forgot about everything around me. I stepped onto another plane and found peace in something beautiful. And though sometimes this seemed impossible in all the world’s ugliness, there was always at least one beautiful thing.
At the moment there was much more than one.
The smell of the gardens was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, light and sweet and seductive all at the same time. The breeze teased through the canopy of trees, and it hit me then how tired the flight halfway around the world had left me.
I blinked, shook my head, and stretched my neck.
Focus, Hunt. This is not a vacation for you.
I referenced the GPS on my phone again. The garden was full of winding trails, and there wasn’t a straight line between Kelsey and me, not without trekking through some, no doubt, rare and expensive greenery.
So I guessed as best I could. Whenever there was a chance to turn in Kelsey’s direction, I took that path. Sometimes it would wind in a completely different direction, and I’d have to double back and try a different trail. I should have picked up some kind of map or something, but I didn’t.
So phone in hand, I did my best.
Finally, I was close enough that she should be just around the bend.
Only the trail I was on didn’t curve; it remained straight and steady right past where the app said Kelsey should be.
I stopped, puzzled.
Maybe a different trail would circle around to where she was.
I trekked back to the last path I’d been on and took the next turn toward Kelsey, sure that that path would lead me to her.
It didn’t.
Once again, I found the trail I walked curving away from where my phone said my target was.
Sighing, I cast my eyes around to make sure there was no one else around, and then stepped off the path and into a wooded area that I hoped wasn’t off limits. Twigs crunched beneath my boots; and even though I was doing something that could potentially get me kicked out, I felt at ease.
I’d always been more at home in the wilderness. You’d think growing up in Texas that I would have had my fill of it, but not in my family. Golfing was about as close to nature as my father got.
I shrugged off my thoughts and worries and sank into the sounds of nature. I focused on the GPS and enjoyed the steady rhythm of my steps through the woods.
I slowed when I neared the area where Kelsey was supposed to be, so that I didn’t give myself away. Stepping carefully, I moved quietly between the trees. I kept expecting to peek around a trunk and see her, but she wasn’t there.
Not even when I was right on top of the signal.
That’s when I saw her backpack, tossed into the dirt beside a bush, a water bottle, some lipstick, and a passport spilling out of its open top.
My heart thudded once, and then picked up, double time.
Adrenaline sharpened my vision. Careful to keep an eye on my surroundings, I stole past my hiding spot and knelt beside the backpack. I flipped open the passport, and there she was. God, even her passport picture was gorgeous. Long tousled blond hair and vivid green eyes.
I closed the little book, squeezing it between my fingers, then scanned my surroundings again.
Maybe my original inclination to panic hadn’t been so far off.
I made myself slow down and consider the facts.
She’d not made any phone calls upon arrival, unless she’d made them in the restroom at the airport. That was the only time she was out of my sight. I’d followed her on the metro and through the streets to her hostel. I’d watched her check in, and everything had seemed normal.
Assuming she would take a little bit to get settled, I’d snuck off around the corner to the inn we’d passed by on the way to her hostel.
I tried to recall her and the guy she’d gone off with on the moped.
Her cheek had rested against his back, so he was taller. She was fairly tall herself, so I guessed that would put him at maybe six foot three. My height, or close to it. He’d worn a helmet, so I had no idea what he looked like, only that he was bigger, enough to overpower her, if that’s what he wanted.
Her hands had gripped his jacket, not his waist. What did that mean? If he were a boyfriend, surely she would have held on to him instead of his clothes.
Something in me relaxed at that notion, but at the same time more anxiety flooded my already aching head.