The SUV continues down the highway, carrying me farther from everything familiar, from my students and my apartment and my life. I'm completely helpless, trapped between two men who won't explain what they want or where we're going, and all I have are the name of a frightened ten-year-old boy who supposedly needs me and the terrifying certainty that I have no control over what happens next.
5
FYODOR
The front door swings open and cold air rushes into the foyer ahead of me, carrying with it the sharp scent of winter. I step across the threshold and move aside to let Lazar haul the woman through, and she stumbles over the raised doorframe.
Her face is flushed red from crying, mascara streaked down her cheeks in dark rivulets that cut through the smeared makeup. The gag is still wedged between her teeth, and her wrists remain bound behind her back. She makes muffled sounds of protest as Lazar drags her deeper into the house, and her boots leave wet tracks across the floor.
I close the door behind us and turn the deadbolt, though I’m not foolish enough to believe that'll stop her if she wants to run. She's smart, and she's angry. I'll have to apply some logic and if that doesn’t work, some force. She seems like the logic type, but with that heavy breathing she's doing, maybe I'll enjoy a bit of force too, if things work out right.
I'm not happy about this. Manhandling a schoolteacher wasn't part of any plan I'd imagined when I woke up this morning. But circumstances have forced my hand, left me scrambling for solutions. When someone drops your biological child on your doorstep with nothing but a note of DNA confirmation, you're pushed into taking extraordinary measures. This woman represents a solution to a problem I can't solve on my own, and I'll deal with whatever moral complications arise from that fact later. Right now, my son needs a nanny and Ms. Noemi Dragunova represents the provision for that need.
"Take her to the study." I gesture down the hallway toward the back of the house, and Lazar nods before pulling her in that direction. She tries to resist him, but her boots slide uselessly across the floor. I follow several paces behind, watching the way she twists and pulls against his hold, her entire body radiating terror. If she's half the teacher she should be, she'll get control of herself before she sees the boy.
The study door stands open. I step inside first and flip the light switch, flooding the space with light from the overhead fixture. Lazar drags the woman in and sets her in front of the desk, keeping his hand on her arm to prevent her from bolting. Not that she could get far with her wrists still bound, but I appreciate his caution.
She stands there trembling with her dark hair disheveled and falling across her face, her coat still buttoned up to her throat. Her eyes dart around the room, taking in every detail like she's searching for an escape as I move behind my desk and sink into the chair.
"Remove the gag."
Lazar reaches up and pulls the cloth from her mouth, extracting it carefully from between her teeth. She gasps immediately, sucking in air like she's been drowning, and then the words start pouring out.
"You can't do this. You can't just take people from their workplace and drag them to your house like criminals. I don't care who you are or what you think gives you the right, but this is kidnapping." Her voice rises with each sentence, gaining volume and pitch until she's nearly shouting. "This is illegal. Someone will notice I'm missing. The school will call the police when I don't show up Monday morning, and they'll find me. They'll find you."
The anger in her tone is undercut by a tremor of fear that runs through every word, betraying how terrified she actually is beneath the bravado. I wait until she runs out of breath and begins staring at me blankly. I'm not going to respond to threats or emotional outbursts.
"Are you finished?" I keep my voice devoid of inflection and she stares at me without answering. Her chest heaves with exertion, but I can only glare at her. I have no pity or sympathy for her. She is a means to an end. I prefer to use her because Sasha already knows her, but I'm sure he'll adjust to a new face, given enough time. She's easily replaceable.
When she doesn't speak again, I say, "Good." I lean forward and rest my forearms on the desk, clasping my hands together. "Let me explain why you're here, and then you can decide whether you want to continue wasting energy on pointless protests or accept the situation and make the best of it."
"Make the best of it?" she scoffs. "You kidnapped me!"
"I did." I don't see any point in denying the obvious. "And I did it because I need your help with something I can't handle on my own."
"Then ask for help like a normal person instead of tying people up and shoving them into cars!" The tears are starting again, fresh tracks cutting through the dried ones on her cheeks. "Why me? Why did you single me out?"
"Because you're Sasha Koryabin's teacher." I watch her face carefully, looking for recognition of the name. "He's in your class at school, and as of last week, he's living in this house under my care."
Her expression shifts immediately, the anger giving way to confusion and concern. "Sasha's here? What happened to his mother? Where is he? Is he alright?"
"His mother is dead." The words come out blunt and factual, the only way I know how to deliver information I don't have emotional investment in. I'm not a fucking doctor. I don't even know if I'm truly this kid's father. "She left him with me before she passed. The DNA says I'm responsible for him."
"You're his father." She says it slowly, like she doesn’t believe it any more than I do. "Sasha never mentioned having a father. His records at school list no paternal information."
"That's because I didn't know he existed until a week ago." I straighten in my chair and feel the tension gathering between my shoulder blades. "His mother never contacted me or told me she was pregnant. The first I learned of him was when an advocate dropped him at my door with paperwork confirming paternity."
Noemi shakes her head, still processing through the thing I've not been able to fully wrap my mind around either. "And you think that justifies kidnapping his teacher?"
"I think it's necessary." I stand and move around the desk, leaning back against the front edge. "The boy won't eat. He cries constantly. He asks for his mother and I can't give her to him. He's frightened of me, which is understandable, given that I'm a stranger he's been forced to live with. He needs someone he knows and he trusts, someone who can help him adjust to this situation."
"I want to help you, believe me, I do. But there are proper channels for?—"
"I don't have time for proper channels," I snap, cutting her off. "I have business that requires my immediate attention that will take me away from this house for extended periods. I can't leave him alone, and I can't trust strangers with him. You're his teacher. He knows you. He'll respond to you."
She glares at me with more fury than ever. Then she bites out, "Let me see him. If Sasha's really here, let me see him right now, because I think you're lying."
I hold her gaze for several long seconds, then nod at Lazar. "Bring the boy."
