Cassie scrunched her eyebrows. “You speak Russian? What did I say?”
“Zhal’, chto yey nuzhno umeret’. Ona khoroshaya shlyukha. ‘It’s a pity she has to die. She’s a good whore,’” Ian said, and she gasped. “Cassie, talk to me.”
“Six years ago, the plan was for me to die. That’s what I didn’t do. I lived.”
“No one will hurt you here,” Ian said with all his heart.
He followed Cassie’s stare as her gaze focused on a leaf floating on the river. “He was perfect, you know. Thick dark hair. Perfect, tiny little fingers and toes. Why did someone take my book? It’s all I had of him. I never even heard him cry.” Tears misted her eyes.
Ian pulled the tiny hat from his pocket. “Sweetheart, we found this in your closet. I wish I could tell you who is doing this and why. Now that William is no longer a secret, I can make arrangements for him to be brought here to be with your family. I know how hard it was for you to sign that order.” Ian trailed a finger down her cheek.
Cassie clutched the cap to her chest while staring at Ian through misty eyes. “You would do that?”
Ian pulled her onto his lap. “Cassie, I’d do anything for you.” He cuddled her in his arms until she fell asleep.
* * *
Bruce and Zach pursued the opportunity to enter and wire Joseph Maddox’s home at their first chance for an undetected entry. Bruce popped a basement window, and both men slipped without a sound to the ground, their ears filling with the classical music playing upstairs. Using night vision goggles, the two former SEALs eased up the steps and began to place the covert listening devices. Everything was dark except for one room in the rear of the sizeable colonial-style home.
Zach removed his goggles before sliding a tiny camera under the door attached to his cell phone. He dragged a finger across his throat.
Bruce opened the door, and both men stepped in front of the large Jacobean oak pedestal desk. Dr. Joseph Maddox was slumped over, frozen in time. A syringe remained stuck in his arm, a vial of potassium beside him. Bruce dialed their night supervisor.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cassie awoke the next morning rested, more comfortable, her head clearer. The combination of sharing her secrets and Ian’s strong words made her feel better. Lillian helped her bathe and get dressed. Hunter wanted her to increase her activity.
“Ready to do this?” Lillian smiled.
“Sure,” Cassie grunted. Just lifting her legs or raising her arms while sitting in a chair left her breathless.
Lillian tied her sneakers. “You will feel better when you get some fresh air. It’s beautiful out.”
Hunter walked in, smiling. “Look at you. All dressed up and someplace to go.”
“Whatever.”
Hunter and Lillian exchanged glances. “First PT session. Let’s go.” He put his hands under Cassie’s knees and lifted her into his arms.
“You know, I saw that look. Where are we going?” Cassie asked.
“Outside.” Hunter started to walk.
“There’s an elevator.” Cassie pointed behind them.
“I need some exercise.” He carried her down the stairs, in the opposite direction of Martin’s room, giving a tour through the house on the way to the patio.
Pete said, “Cass, we’re going to go very slow. Some leg exercises, some hand exercises, a little massage, and some breathing exercises.
Cassie looked up. “Great—Tuck’s medieval torture device.”
Pete bent over, laughing. Tucker approached with an incentive spirometer, an instrument designed to help her lung capacity, all covered in glitter. “Fairy dust.”
Cassie joined in the laughter. “Okay, maybe not torture.”
Hunter’s lips turned up. “And if you’re up to it, we’ll try a little walk. You need to tell us how you’re feeling.”
Trying some elementary exercises, Cassie bit down on her lip, refusing to give in to the pain. “Look at you,” Pete spoke, waggling his eyes at her.
