Sergei sits in his office chair. The lamp on his desk throws a hard circle of light over his shoulders and face. He looks tired, older than he did when we left the house for the bathhouse. His jaw is tight. There is a cut along his hairline. Dried blood on one side of his neck. His eyes hit the camera and flare.
“Raina,” he says.
My throat closes and opens.
“Sergei,” I answer.
The screen splits again. Another window opens. Nadia sits on his lap, wrapped in a blanket. Her hair is messy. Her eyes are wide and red from crying. She clutches her bear so hard I can see the stitches strain. Anastasia stands behind the chair, one hand on Nadia’s shoulder. Her face is pale. Her eyes are swollen. She looks like she has not slept at all.
“Mama,” Nadia cries. Her whole body moves with the word.
“I’m here,” I say. I lean closer to the screen. “Little star, I’m here.”
She reaches for the camera with her small hand. “Where are you?” she asks. “Papa looked everywhere.”
“I know,” I say. “I saw his tracks from here.”
Sergei’s eyes narrow just a little at that. He hears the edge. He hears everything.
“Where is here?” he asks. His voice is calm, but I see the vein in his neck.
“The Courier has me in a house,” I say. “I’m safe for now. There is food. There is a bed. The door is locked.”
Nadia looks back and forth between us on the screen. “When are you coming home?” she asks.
The words stab me clean. I steady my breath.
“I don’t know yet,” I say. “But I’m working on it.”
Sergei’s gaze sharpens. “Did he hurt you?” he asks.
“No,” I say.
Nadia’s face begins pinching up. “Hey,” I say quickly. “Look at me. He gave me food. He gave me a room. He let me use this computer. See? That means I can talk to you. That’s good. That means you and Papa can see my face.”
She nods once, fast.
“Tell me where he is,” Sergei says. “Tell me what you can see.”
The Courier cuts in. His voice comes from somewhere outside the frame of both cameras, cold and smooth.
“Careful, Sergei Baranov,” he says. “This is my favor, not your interrogation. You speak to your partner and child, but don’t try to turn this into a map session. If you push, I cut the line.”
Sergei’s mouth tightens. His eyes flick sideways, but he doesn’t look away from me.
“I thought you wanted to listen,” he says. “You should let her talk.”
“Oh, I’m listening,” the Courier says. “Every word. Every breath.”
I fix my gaze on Nadia.
“Little star,” I say, “do you remember the song I sing when we travel, the one about the little house and the white water and the tall trees?”
She nods at once. “The river house song.”
“Good,” I say. “Papa is right there. He’ll hear it too. I’m going to sing it now for you. We start with the old verse. Then we add some new words. Can you remember the new words for me? Can you keep them safe in your head and tell Papa all of them later?”
She straightens in his lap. “Yes,” she says. “I promise.”
