I stoodin the middle of the motel room. The acrid smell of unlit gasoline was already burning my nose. I had spent the last fifteen minutes wiping down the room before dousing every inch of it, including the walls, the synthetic carpet and the mattress on the bed that I had dragged Sergei’s body onto. Curtains, pillows and mattresses had been saturated.
I wasn’t an arsonist by nature, but I couldn’t risk any part of Mila’s DNA getting traced back to Sergei’s death. I had already driven his truck out to a remote abandoned culvert and torched the vehicle down to the metal. The motel room contained the last traces of evidence that tied her to him.
I picked up the phone and pressed 9 to make an outside call.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“I’m near the Pines Motel, and I’m seeing flames. Something’s on fire there.”
“Has anyone started the fire alarms?”
“I don’t know. I’m driving in my vehicle. You’d better send someone.”
I hung up and walked a good six feet outside of the doorway. I ignited a butane lighter and shielded my face before tossing it into the room. The gas fumes ignited before the lighter even passed through the doorway, and there was a low whomp as the entire room instantly burst into flames. I immediately felt the punch of heat on my face.
I jogged to the other end of the motel, where one lone car was parked.
I pounded on the door. “Fire. You need to get out.”
When I heard them respond with a shout, I moved around the corner. The front desk clerk was sleepily watching television.
“Your motel is on fire. How many rooms do you have rented?”
“Two,” he stuttered, confirming that I had alerted the only person currently checked in.
“I already called 911,” I told him, as I exited out the door.
In the distance I could hear the thin wail of rescue vehicles approaching. I jogged back to my truck, which was parked in the shadows, away from cameras and eyes. The frantic motel guest was too busy throwing his things into his car to notice me.
Every inch of Sergei’s room was on fire. The windows had been blown out from the heat and the heavy curtains burned as they flapped in the open frames.
Somewhere in that mess, Sergei was fittingly being erased in a makeshift dump of a pyre.
I started the engine of my truck, barely registering the destruction I was leaving behind.
I’ll do anything to keep her safe.
By the time the emergency trucks arrived and realized there was a body in the room, I’d be long gone.
It tookme two hours to get to Portland, and then I joined the heavy stream of morning traffic, which slowed me down significantly. I parked Viktor’s ghost vehicle in a deserted lot behind a dilapidated pizzeria and quickly swapped plates. Then I drove to the large, bustling mall and wiped down the inside of the truck. I left all the windows open and the keys in the ignition.
I bought some clean clothes, got changed in the bathroom, and left my old clothes in a shopping bag hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Cleaning staff would pick up the bag, and it would languish in their lost and found for weeks before anyone looked inside.
With my hood up, I walked through the parkade and confirmed that the ghost vehicle had already been stolen, which meant someone was probably putting it in hiding for me, changing the plates or painting it. Preferably they would chop it up and sell it for parts.
Working to stay in the blind spots of any cameras, I took the light rail from downtown Portland to the international airport.
I stoodin front of the departure board and weighed my options. I needed to get out of the United States before they connected Sergei’s death to me. And, since that could eventually happen, I couldn’t return to Canada because of the extradition risk. I could vanish internationally, but I’d probably be hunted, if not by Canadians, then by my own country. I knew I had the skills to disappear, but I couldn’t guarantee they’d leave Mila alone.
I took a deep breath.
There was a flight leaving in two hours for Moscow. It was probably the least appealing option, knowing what I’d end up facing, but I knew it was the only way I could protect her.
If I went on the run, I was almost positive they’d use her to put pressure on me.
But if I faced the consequences of my actions and they had me to punish, they would most likely leave her alone.
Especially since she was Canadian.
