Page 60 of Conquer
The author of these cruel messages needs no explanation. Irina wrote them, using the pointed language to taunt Hiram. Blackmail him? And the last one, adorning the oldest photo of Magda, mentioned that damn, hateful word. Flawed.
In disgust, Vadim swipes his hand over the photos, scattering them further. Then he snatches the remaining stack of documents from the lockbox and scours them with a deepening frown.
“What is it?” I ask as he lurches to his feet, his gaze on one page in particular.
He shakes his head rather than tell me. Then he retreats to a corner of the room while withdrawing a cell phone from his pocket. In hushed tones, he relays something fervently to whoever is listening on the other end, but I only manage to catch snippets. “…Verify. The one Hiram used. Yes. See if you can track him down.”
As I strain my ears to listen, I reach for one of the documents he’d left behind. All it contains is an itemized list. An invoice? I struggle to decipher the final details. A series of names… Countries? Each one is followed by a date and a scribbled response in different handwriting that makes me suspect they had been written in after the fact.
Gone.
Left in June.
No sign.
Witnesses saw a child but no sign.
Was Hiram tracking someone? Someone with a child who apparently bounced from city to city—even country to country. And judging from the number of invoices, his surveillance of that mysterious figure spanned months if not years.
“He knew,” Vadim rasps. I look up to find him stowing his cell phone in his pocket, apparently speaking to me now. “Irina kept in contact with him. The bastard even had her traced. Put a bounty on her head—”
“I’m sorry.” I rise to my feet and approach him. Everything we’ve learned takes a backseat to the betrayal I know he’s feeling. And I’m already steeling myself to withstand his instinctive way of reacting when hurt.
His eyes cut down to mine, blazing with mistrust. “How do I know you aren’t working with her as well?” he demands. “Am I supposed to believe it was a coincidence that you appeared in my life when you did? How good you are with her. It could be an act. It could…” He deflates, raking his hands through his hair, his gaze unreadable. “No,” he decides, shaking his head. “No.”
What exactly about me makes him change his mind, he doesn’t say. Instead, he sinks onto the edge of the leather chaise and sighs.
“Hiram’s man was the one who brought Magda to the crisis center.” He tosses the crumbled invoice onto the table, eyeing it in disgust. “He tracked Irina to Fair Haven of all places. His mercenary took Magda—terrified her in the process—and then…he abandoned her.”
“And then that man sent you that note?” I ask cautiously.
He shrugs. “It makes sense. Or at least it would if Hiram were the kind of man who thrived in deceit.”
“But he wasn’t,” I say, going off his obvious distress. “So there must be another explanation.” Desperate to help him find one, I grab the journal and flip through the pages. Hiram was a man of few words, most of them spent reflecting on his take on the current stocks, or his viewpoint on the current events that day. I’m starting to feel my search is in vain when I stumble across a page near the very end that isn’t like the others.
It’s longer for one, with Vadim’s name sprinkled throughout. It’s a summary of his accomplishments at the time, more like an exhaustive list. His ascent in the biotechnical industry. His many accolades regarding his education and various business acquisitions. And at the very end, he’d written simply—he is ready for anything.
My throat constricts at the realization of just how true those words are, but for whatever reason, I can’t bring myself to voice them.
“Let’s go.” Vadim stands, leaving everything on the table but the stack of invoices. “If we leave now, we can make it back before dark. I’ll call Magdalene.”
He’s already in the hallway by the time I manage to stand. Before I leave the room, however, I can’t stop myself from gathering everything into the lockbox and tucking it under my arm. When I rejoin Vadim out in the car, he spots my bounty, but he already has his cell phone against his ear, and the person on the other end takes precedence over all else.
“Having fun?” he asks in a jovial tone that’s such a startling contrast to his glowering expression. The man sure can turn on the charm when he needs to. Even I would be convinced if I didn’t happen to be staring directly at him. Whatever Magda says makes some warmth creep back into his gaze even as his frown deepens. “You want to stay the night,” he says, sounding surprised by that fact. His eyes meet mine, wavering with indecision. “I…”
“Yes.” I gently ease the phone from his grasp. Magda’s excited chirping is audible even before I fully press the device against my ear.
“…and we went hiking. And they said we could camp in the backyard! Can I stay? Please?”
I barely recognize this little girl, brimming with the full extent of a seven-year-old’s excitement. Even Vadim seems to realize that, despite his feelings toward Maxim, raining on her parade now would be cruel.
“That sounds great, honey,” I say, deciding for him. “Of course, you can stay. We’ll pick you up first thing in the morning.”
Vadim eyes me both grudgingly and with a hint of something that might be relief as I return the phone to him. After talking to Magda for a few more minutes, he finally hangs up.
“This is a good thing,” I insist in response to his distant gaze. “She gets to spend time with her family, and you get to digest what you’ve learned. You deserve to feel betrayed. But, you also deserve to think things through and have doubts about what the information may seem to present. It’s okay to not want to believe the worst in anyone.”
“Is it?” he wonders, flicking his gaze toward me.
