Alexei takes the car into a rest stop, and we clean up in the bathrooms as well as we can. He has extra clothes in his trunk, so is able to put on a fresh shirt, but I don’t have socks or shoes, and my clothes are stained with blood that soap and water can’t erase.
For that reason, when we reach a hotel in Coynston, I stay in the car when Alexei goes to check in. We are both exhausted from the lack of sleep.
Online, he orders clothes and other supplies for us to be delivered to the hotel and lets the desk know that the package is coming. Then he puts the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door and closes all the shades.
We take a warm shower together and then fall into bed. I am asleep before my hair is dry.
When we wake again, I’m groggy and feel strange and disoriented. It’s one in the afternoon, and Alexei is sitting at a small table in the corner. His expression looks strained.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around me. “The police are looking for us?”
“No.” Alexei’s dressed in jeans and a sweater that I didn’t realize he had. He rubs his temple and frowns. “I’ve been asking about Egorov. I just got a message that his wife was found drowned in their bathtub. There was an empty vodka bottle and some sleeping pills nearby.”
My eyebrows rise, and I tilt my head. “Egorov’s own wife is dead now too? Did you know her, Alexei?”
“Not well. I met her a few times. At the Russian Club and when he brought her to the restaurants. They ate at Red Square often. She was nice to the staff, nice to me too, actually.”
“Do you think he kills her?”
In the low light, Alexei’s eyes look blue-gray and somber. “Yeah, I do.”
“Can the police catch him?”
“I don’t know. The rumor is that he’s just gotten back to New York this morning. He was out of town, in Chicago, for the past few days. The police will check his alibi. I’m sure it’ll pan out. He’s smart enough to have arranged to be out of town while the people he hired to kill me and his wife were doing the jobs.”
“Do Egorov and his wife have children?”
“No, no children.”
“A relief. But if no children, he will get her money?”
“Yes. Unless the police can prove it was a murder-for-hire plot. They’ll be suspicious. His father-in-law dies and then his wife dies before the will’s even been settled? It’s too big of a coincidence.”
There’s a small wooden box on the table that Alexei’s thumb rubs.
“What is that?” I ask, pointing.
“Insurance,” he says absently. Alexei stands and slides the small box into his pocket. “There are some clothes for you,” he says, nodding at a cardboard box in the corner.
“Already?” I exclaim. “America is amazing.”
“We’re a consumer culture. Once we click, we expect things to arrive pretty much immediately. The system’s built to be fast.”
“Still, it is like magic, no?” I ask, folding the sheet around me like a shawl and then going to the box. Inside I find brand new undergarments, stretch pants, a long sweater, socks, and athletic shoes. There is also a brand new phone.
“Alexei, give me your bank and account number. I can afford to pay now.” My voice sounds happier than I mean for it to. It’s not the right time to be cheerful, but having my own money makes me giddy after having to rely on everyone else so completely for so long. When he doesn’t answer as I dress, I look over.
He’s studying his phone and sending texts. “My brother and his friends know we’re in town.”
I freeze, but then resume putting my socks on. “How can they know?”
“This is their town. When strangers arrive, they know.”
My gaze darts around the room. “This room, it is monitored, you think?”
“No,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “They pay people, like the guy at the desk, to let them know who checks into the hotel. My brother wants to know what we’re doing here.”
“What do you say to this?”
