Page 8 of Canyon of Deceit
Alarms in my head sounded an alert. “Then he’s not reporting a crime, which is against the law. Are you sure you aren’t climbing the wrong mountain?”
“You aren’t obligated to meet with us, and I get it. Like you, I need more details before I make my final decision. Your ability to read others will help me. In answer to your question about his wife, he says her body is missing. I’ve told you most of what he told me, and I’d prefer he fill you in on the rest. Later, you and I can compare notes and judge if the moral and legal issues are worth the danger.”
The hesitancy in her voice troubled me. “Are you having doubts?”
“More like how do I—or we—move forward in recovering a child being held by kidnappers? Are we the best choice, or is someone else better equipped?”
“You and I aredefinitelya small team.”
“It appears so.”
Curiosity nipped at my heels. Who was this man who’d lost his wife and feared his daughter might meet the same demise? Why the violent crimes against him? Or would his identity explain the secrecy? Did I want to get stuck in a quicksand of crimes?
FOUR
THERESE
Professor Ivanov’s slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes tugged at my sympathy strings. His slow approach from the restaurant entrance contradicted the image of the confident, energetic professor at Leonard University. I’d walked through the same fire of losing a loved one, and the agony burned physically and mentally. Drawing each breath took courage.
I’d secured a corner booth in the rear that offered visibility of those entering, a habit I’d picked up in college. A roommate had been stalked by an old boyfriend, and she told me how facing the entrance to a restaurant or any public building gave her comfort. The position prepared her for any challenges, and I adopted her wisdom and never regretted it.
Professor Ivanov wore a wrinkled shirt splattered with coffee stains that told me more about him than a thesaurus full of words representing grief, sorrow, and shock. His anguish crept into a part of me that I normally kept locked away.
“Professor, I’m so sorry about your family.” I shook his hand.
He moistened his lips, his grip clammy. “Thank you. I appreciate you choosing to discuss this further.” He seated himself across the table from me. “Normally I’d be up assembling last-minute plans togreet my students. So much has happened in such a few hours.” He inhaled and slowly exhaled. “My wife’s death and Alina facing the same merciless fate torments my every moment. They are victims of evil-infested men.”
“I agree. You asked me to help you. But I’m not sure how or if it’s possible.”
A server approached and took our orders for coffee. Professor Ivanov watched her leave and surveyed the small crowd as though one of them had pulled the trigger on Daria or held Alina.
“Do you see someone familiar?” I said.
“Everyone looks like a killer or a kidnapper to me.”
“Do you suspect you were followed?”
“I don’t think so. I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror.” Rurik pulled a small notebook from inside his sports jacket and handed it to me. “I’ve written what happened in chronological order. Perhaps you’ll see something I have missed.”
His jerky handwriting conveyed his tormented mental state. My reasoning to help rescue Alina wavered between hot indignation against whoever had abducted the little girl to stone-cold dread if the child had been killed. My reservations said I fell below the skills required.
I read through his notes. Professor Ivanov received the distressing call at 3:00 p.m. yesterday. He attempted to contact Daria, phoned Alina’s school, learned his daughter had been picked up earlier at 11:45, and then he returned to an empty home near 4:30 p.m. His notes mirrored his early morning plea to me.
“Have the kidnappers contacted you since we spoke?” I snapped a pic of his notebook and slid it back to him.
“Not yet. I keep thinking there’s a reason they chose such a desolate area, and I shudder at the fears plaguing Alina. While the high desert mountains would be difficult for her, the kidnappers are minus conveniences too.” He slipped his pad inside his jacket. “My daughter... I refuse to believe she’s dead.”
I wrestled with the same horror. “You must not lose hope. Concentrate on finding Alina alive and well.”
He gave me a thin-lipped smile above a quivering chin.
“Professor, this isn’t a solo mission. The abductors are dealing with high stakes too. Are you trained in wilderness survival and weaponry?”
“No, Ms. Palmer. I battle with words, not nature or unscrupulous men, and I’m sadly out of shape. I admit I’m powerless to be the rescue-father Alina deserves. She is in excellent physical condition. She’s involved with gymnastics three days a week and competes regularly.”
I nodded at his pride in her and bit back my disappointment at his inability to help with the search. “Do you see the necessity for at least one trained person to accompany me?”
Rurik paled. “Have you told the police or the FBI?”
