When Silvia returned, followed by Schneider, there was a new tension in their faces.
“Carter,” Silvia said, without sitting down. She showed him a photo on her phone. “Do you recognize this van? I know it’s not very clear—it’s from a police body-worn camera.”
“It’s a white van. Can’t even see a license plate.”
“You recognize the street though?”
“A lane behind the hospital in Montrose, near where your guys picked me up. I recognize the florist on the corner.”
“This van drove away with Alice Thornton inside, shortly after we picked you up. There was a pursuit but we lost it—we’re checking surveillance cameras, but they obviously had an escape route planned. Here’s another photo—Ms. Thornton approaching the van, seconds before it leaves.”
Carter tried to speak but his throat had dried up. A white van…
“The man driving…” Silvia said, swiping to another photo. “Here’s a close-up. A little blurry but he’s a Russian illegal we lost track of some years ago.”
The Daisy Sparkles guy.
“Wanted for torturing and murdering another Russian national,” Schneider added. “If he’s risked blowing cover to grab her, he’s not planning to mess around. You’ve seen him before, haven’t you? A van similar to this was photographed by our agents arriving at Ms. Thornton’s school, around the time you were there, two days ago.”
“Carter,” Silvia said, pulling a chair around the table to sit adjacent to him, rather than opposite, “you know as well as I do, every minute she’s missing makes it less likely she’ll ever be found. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want that.”
Chapter 29
Alice
After a bone-shaking, terrifying eternity, the van’s careening and weaving settled into a regular, sedate pace and the driver’s hunched posture relaxed. “We’re good, no one following us,” he called back to the man holding Alice, in an accent that could be Canadian.
Her captor relented his grip. “I apologize, Alisa,” he said as she scooted out of his reach. “We had to work quickly.”
Wait, she’d heard that voice before. She planted her back against the cold metal side of the van and stared across at him. Dark hair, tall, skinny… It was the guy who visited Nika at the hospital.
“We have lost them now,” he said, as if that was supposed to reassure her. “Never go into a situation without plan to get out, is that right?”
“Who are you?”
“You don’t remember me? We have met. At hospital. I visited your house.”
“Yes, I remember that. But who are you, really?”
“I am Yuri, like I said when we met.”
“Yuri?You’reYuri?”
“Did you knock your head? Who else would I be?”
“I don’t remember you telling me your name, just that you were Nika’s ex. You’reYuri?”
“Yes, Yuri! This is what I told you, but we did not actually break up so … ex? I don’t know.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.” The van took a corner, and Alice skidded into a toolbox. Yuri shot out a hand to steady her. “I think when you let your girlfriend believe you’re dead, you’re effectively breaking up with her.”
“You make good point. My death in Russia, it was staged. Like Nika, I was resettled here in exchange for providing information to America, after I was betrayed in Russia.”
“But there was a body in a casket. A funeral.”
“Casket, yes. Funeral, yes. Body, no. It was very top secret.”
“You had Nika fooled. It broke her heart.”
