Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Alisa barely slept. And when the sun rose on Thursday morning, she was relieved she'd made it through the night.

Reaching for her phone, she saw a message from Tim: I can't believe what happened to you! Glad you're okay. Will check in later.

Seriously? She texted back. Can't believe that's all you have to say. Don't bother checking in. We're done.

There was no reply. He'd probably been done days ago.

As she scrolled through her messages, she saw concerned texts from nursing friends, which made her feel better. Rolling out of bed, she walked to the window to open the blinds. It was a sunny day, and it almost made her feel like last night had just been a nightmare, but her aching head and stinging hand were impossible to ignore. She could have been killed last night, and that thought made her shudder again. But she'd survived, and today was a new day. She needed to stop looking back and move forward.

She put a baggie over the bandage on her hand so she could take a shower. After that, she got dressed and called for a rideshare.

When her ride pulled up in front of the hospital, she couldn't bring herself to look at the parking garage. Entering the hospital, however, felt like going into her second home, and she tried to hang on to that positive feeling as she made her way upstairs to her mother's room.

She opened the door with a smile on her face, which immediately faded when she saw her mother was asleep. As she neared the bed, she was stunned by her mother's pallor. Her face was white, and when she touched her hand, it was cold again.

Checking her vitals, she saw her mother's respirations and heart rate were quite low. She felt a rush of fear. She'd seen patients who looked like this before, and it was never good.

The door opened and Dr. Mitchell Grayson walked in. He was in his early sixties with gray hair and kind brown eyes. He was accompanied by a nurse she didn't know, except that her name was Shannon, and she'd started working at the hospital a few days earlier.

"I'm glad you're here, Alisa," Dr. Grayson said, a somber tone in his voice. "Your mother's condition has deteriorated. She's having trouble staying awake. She can't keep food down, and her respiration is shallow."

"What happened? She was doing so well last night."

"I don't know, but I've ordered more tests. Shannon will take some blood now. Hopefully, it will give us insight into what's changed in the past twelve hours."

"I don't understand. She was practically back to her old self last night. When did things change? Why didn't someone call me?"

"Her vitals were stable until about an hour ago," the doctor replied. "We're going to figure this out, Alisa."

"Are we? Do you think we should bring in some other doctors to consult?" She didn't care if her question offended him. She needed answers.

"I already put in a call to someone I think can help. He'll get back to me soon. He's in surgery this morning." He gave her an empathetic look. "I know you're frustrated, but I want you to know that I'm not going to stop looking for a diagnosis or a treatment plan. In fact, I'd like to send her for an MRI scan of the brain. I don't want to leave any stones unturned."

She felt somewhat comforted by his words, but she needed results more than comfort. As Shannon finished taking her mother's blood, her mom stirred and grimaced. She moved back to the bed and placed her hand over her mother's.

"Mom," she said gently, but loud enough to rouse her. "Mom," she repeated.

"It's okay if she rests," Dr. Grayson said. "We'll get the blood work to the lab, and then Shannon will take your mom downstairs for the MRI."

"All right. I'll stay with her until then."

As they left the room, she looked back at her mom, whose eyes were still closed. "You're going to be okay, Mom. The doctor just wants to run a few more tests. Hang in there for a while longer."

Her mother's eyelids flickered and then slowly opened. There was confusion in her gaze.

"Alisa?" she said, her voice weak and raspy.

"I'm here. You aren't feeling too good, are you?"

Fear and worry entered her mother's gaze. "No. Something is wrong. I think you should go somewhere, Alisa. I don't want you to stand by my bedside and watch me?—"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said fiercely, refusing to let her mother finish that sentence. "And I am not giving up, Mom. We will figure this out."

"I still want you to leave. I want to be alone. I don't want you here."

There was a somewhat desperate note to her voice now that Alisa didn't understand.

"I'm not leaving. You're my mother. You've always been there for me, and I'll be there for you." She paused. "Especially since Dad isn't here. I tried calling him. His phone isn't working. Don't you think that's odd? "

"He said his phone was breaking. Don't worry, Alisa. He'll be in touch."

"I don't want to wait for him to get in touch," she said with annoyance. "He should be here with you. I don't understand why he's not."

"I know you don't. I wish I could explain."

She was even more confused by her mother's words. "What do you mean? Why can't you explain?"

"Because I can't. But he's a good man, and I love him."

She wanted to believe her father was a good man because she loved him, too. But she was also angry with him.

Her mother drew in a ragged breath. "I'm so tired. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I'm not sure I'll have the energy to open them again. And then I get a sharp pain in my stomach. It takes my breath away."

"The nurse will take you down to radiology in a few minutes for an MRI scan. I'm going to wait with you until then, and I'll be here when you're done."

Her mother's fingers curled around hers. "I love you, Alisa. I want you to be safe. And that means you need to go. Take a vacation. Go to Fiji. Remember our vacation there? What did you say to me?"

"That it felt like we were at the other end of the world, very far from our lives."

"That's where I want you to be, sitting on a sandy beach, the sun warm on your face, a cold drink by your side, the blue sea stretching out in front of you. Maybe Tim can go with you. I haven't seen him lately, have I? Sometimes I can't remember who has been here and what day it is."

"Tim and I aren't together anymore."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "He's not for me."

"Maybe he's not, since he hasn't been here for you since I got sick. I want you to be someone's priority, Alisa. Your father always made me feel that way. "

"Even now?" She couldn't help asking.

But her mother's eyes were already closing. Either she hadn't heard what she'd said, or she hadn't wanted to hear.

She let out a breath, thinking a trip to Fiji sounded good right now. Her mother had painted a beautiful picture, but that wasn't their reality. When this was over, they'd go there together, she promised herself. They'd sit on that beach, looking at the beautiful sea, feeling like there was nothing but possibility in front of them. As soon as her mom got well, she'd make that trip happen. She didn't want to think about the alternative. She didn't want to lose her mom, especially when it felt like she'd already lost her dad.

When had her life gotten so messed up? Everything had been so normal before this. They'd had no family drama. Just a happy life. Maybe she should have been more grateful for that instead of sometimes thinking they were a little boring. She'd trade everything she had for boring right now.

Her gaze moved toward the door. The man who'd tried to carjack her was probably in a room on the floor. She wondered what he'd have to say for himself. If he'd told the FBI why he'd been in the garage, why he'd gone after her, why he'd wanted to get her in the car.

A shiver ran down her spine as the memories ran through her head. She told herself to calm down. It was over. That man was going to jail. And eventually, she would have answers to all her questions.

Her gaze returned to her mom, hoping she'd also get answers to her mother's condition soon. She felt so helpless, but for now, all she could do was sit and wait for the doctor to find a diagnosis and a treatment plan to save her mother's life.

Jason stood over the hospital bed, his gaze locked on the man who had terrorized Alisa just hours before.Victor Kashin’s thick beard did nothing to hide the hard set of his jaw, nor the calculating look in his dark, soulless eyes.Originally from Chechnya, Kashin had built a life on violence and fear, and now he lay silent, his hands cuffed to the bed, scowling at the ceiling like a man who had already accepted his fate.

Kashin had been in trouble many times over the years and had a record of theft, burglary, and multiple assaults. He was in his early forties and had worked as an auto mechanic, but his employment history was so spotty it was doubtful that was how he made his money. His last known residence was an abandoned apartment building. Since then, Victor's address and employment had been nonexistent.

Victor had not said a word to either him or Savannah, even though they'd asked him multiple questions. He'd simply stared straight ahead with a scowl on his face, his lips tight, even when asked the most basic questions: What's your name? Where do you live? Why were you in the garage? Who are you working for?

He hadn't mentioned Novikov because he didn't want to tip his hand that they knew Kashin and Novikov had, at some point, been in the same vehicle yesterday. Not that Victor could communicate with anyone, but he still wanted to keep the information to himself.

"Look, we're going to find out everything about you," he told Kashin. "We already know your name, where you're from, where you've lived, who your relatives are. Someone will talk. Someone will tell us more than you want us to know." He paused, then added, "I believe you're working for someone else, and that person might be of more interest to us than you are. You could trade that information to help yourself because right now you're facing attempted murder, kidnapping, and many other charges. You're looking at serious prison time."

Kashin's gaze remained fixed on the wall.

"If you have information we can use," Savannah interjected, "you can make a deal. "

Finally, Victor turned his head to look at them. "Lawyer," he said. Then he returned his gaze to the wall.

He wasn't surprised at the request but still frustrated. "You don't have to talk, Victor, but you can listen. You screwed up. You failed. Now you're a loose end. I doubt you'll last long in jail."

Victor's profile hardened. His dark eyes burned with anger as he looked at Jason. "If I tell you anything, I won't survive long enough to get to jail."

"We can protect you," Savannah put in.

He gave them both a derisive look. "Neither of you have any idea what you're talking about."

"Well, without our protection, you'll be even less likely to stay alive," he said.

"Lawyer," Victor repeated.

"Do you have someone you want us to call? Or do you want a public defender?" Savannah asked.

It was a good question. If Victor gave them an attorney's name, they might be able to tie the lawyer to Novikov.

But Victor wasn't falling into that trap. "Call whoever you want. I'm done talking."

"You have a small window of time in which you can change your mind," he told him. "But it's closing fast."

"Lawyer."

He let out a sigh and motioned Savannah toward the door. When they left the room, one of the two security guards on duty entered the room to stand guard, while the other remained outside, blocking the door.

"We're not getting anything from him," he said in frustration.

"No," Savannah agreed. "The doctor said he won't be released until tomorrow, so I'll make a call and get an attorney down here."

"Thanks."

As Savannah moved down the hall and stepped into the waiting room to make her calls, he turned back to the glass window that showed the guard standing just inside the door while Victor had laid back and closed his eyes. He might be asleep or just resigned to whatever consequence he would have to suffer because of his botched carjacking.

Clearly, he was more worried about his employer than about going to jail. If that employer was Novikov, he could certainly understand Victor's fear. Novikov was a cold-blooded assassin. All he cared about was money, power, and terror, not necessarily in that order. And he suspected that Victor Kashin was expendable.

"Is that him?" a woman asked.

He turned his head, surprised to see Alisa Hunt. She looked much better than she had last night. She'd exchanged her scrubs for dark jeans and a coral-colored sweater over a white top. Her dark-brown hair was no longer in a ponytail but falling halfway down her back in pretty waves. Her eyes were brown but flecked with gold, her cheeks holding far more color than the night before. Her left hand was wrapped in a bandage, reminding him of the cut she'd suffered on her palm, and while there wasn't any sign of a concussion, he suspected she still had a big headache. But apparently, she wasn't one to stay home and sit on the couch.

"Is that the man who tried to kidnap me?" she asked, her gaze moving to the window behind him.

"Yes."

"Do you know any more about him? Or why he wanted me to get in the car?"

"We know he's originally from Chechnya."

She looked at him in surprise. "Really? Isn't that in Russia?"

"It was part of the Soviet Union at one time. Victor has been in the US since he was a teenager. He hasn't said anything except to ask for a lawyer, so I don't know why he grabbed you and tried to put you in your car."

"Can I talk to him? "

"Why would you want to?" he asked, surprised by her request.

"Maybe he would tell me because I'm not FBI. I'm just the woman he tried to kidnap."

"I don't think so."

"Please? I couldn't sleep all night. I kept hearing his voice, feeling his grip on my arm, shaking with terror at every memory. He grew into a gigantic monster in my head, and maybe if I spoke to him, he would stop being a monster and just be a criminal. Perhaps he just needed a car, and he didn't have any money."

"Don't make excuses for him," he said sharply. "Some people are just bad."

"I know that's true, but I'm trying to vanquish the monster in my head."

He couldn't help but admire her spirit and her determination to not let what happened control her. But he could also see the fear in her eyes. She was an intriguing and very attractive mix of bravery and fear. She had a soft girl-next-door look about her, but he knew she was also a fighter. However, he couldn't let her go into the room. She wouldn't get the result she was hoping for, and he didn't want her anywhere near Victor. She'd already had one unfortunate encounter, and that was one too many.

"The monster is cuffed to the bed," he told her. "He's going to prison. You're safe. And the less contact you have with him, the better. You're just a random woman who got in the way of whatever he wanted to do. Let's keep it that way. He doesn't need to know your name or see you again, at least not until the trial."

"Trial?" she echoed.

"You'll probably have to testify to what happened."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that." She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were suddenly cold, and the color in her cheeks that he'd been admiring earlier faded away.

"Are you all right, Alisa?"

"I don't think so. "

He felt another wave of compassion at her honest words. "It will take time to get past what you went through. But talking to him won't help. Trust me on that."

She let out a sigh. "I feel like I can't control anything in my life right now. Everyone wants me to trust them. It's not that I don't want to, I just feel helpless. I'm not good at waiting."

He smiled as their gazes met. "I'm not a patient person, either, but sometimes you don't have a choice."

"Like now," she murmured.

"You should feel good about what you did last night. You were incredibly brave. Be proud of that. You saved yourself."

"You saved me," she corrected.

"Only because you fought him long enough to give me the opportunity to get there."

"I am glad I didn't freeze. My instincts screamed at me to fight."

"Your instincts were good."

"I just wish it hadn't happened. I have so much to deal with right now."

"Maybe you should get some rest. You can't be planning to work today. I hope you didn't come all the way down here just to see this guy. He's not worth your time."

"I'm not working, and I didn't come here to see him. My mother is sick with an illness that no one has been able to diagnose. Last night she was doing better, but this morning, she's worse again."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"They just took her to radiology to get another test. I was sitting alone in her room, and I started thinking about what happened last night, and I couldn't stop myself from coming down here. I thought vanquishing one monster would help, but he's not the monster I'm most worried about." She drew in a shaky breath. "My mother is in terrible shape. I don't want to think about what might happen. But I can't help it. I'm a nurse. I can see the signs. "

He saw the stress and fear in her eyes and could relate. He had known nothing about medicine when his mother had died, but he could still remember the odd look in her eyes the day before she passed, the way she'd slumped in her chair, staring into space in a way that had made him feel she was already gone.

Clearing his throat, he pushed that unexpected memory from his head. It had been seventeen years. But he still couldn't get that image out of his head. But this wasn't about him. "I understand a little of how you might feel. I lost my mom when I was fifteen. It's the worst thing that ever happened to me."

She met his gaze. "I can't lose her. I just can't."

"I hope you won't," he said, feeling oddly protective toward her. He didn't know her. He shouldn't feel anything but compassion for a stranger going through a difficult time, but there was something about Alisa that made it difficult to keep a distance between them.

Knowing what she'd gone through in the garage and what was happening now with her mother, he could understand her need to put one of her fears out of her head.

"I shouldn't be telling you all this." She gave him an apologetic look. "It's not your problem, so I shouldn't be taking up your time."

"Right now, I'm just waiting for this guy's attorney to arrive, so it's not a problem. It sounds like you need someone to talk to. What about your family? Or a boyfriend?" he ventured, not sure why he'd felt the need to put that question out there.

Her frown deepened. "No boyfriend. As for family, my father seems to have disappeared."

He straightened at that unexpected piece of information. "What do you mean?"

"My mom said my dad went to see an ill friend, and it's no big deal, but considering my mother is in seriously bad health, it's hugely concerning. When I called my dad last night, his phone was disconnected. I tried again this morning and it still wasn't working. It's so strange. He never goes anywhere. And he adores my mother. I don't understand why he would leave."

"It sounds odd," he said, his always curious brain already trying to put the puzzle together. "Your mother isn't concerned?"

"No. She said he'll be back when he can, and I don't need to worry about it. In fact, she told me I should take a trip, get out of town. Like I'm going to leave her alone now."

Every word that came out of her mouth gave him a bad feeling. "What about the old friend he went to visit? Can you reach out to that person?"

"I don't know him. I never heard his name before last night."

"What exactly is wrong with your mother?"

"No one knows. She has a lot of odd symptoms. She's sleeping all the time. She's nauseous. She can't keep food down. She passed out at home before we brought her in on Monday. She also says her feet and her hands hurt, and she has a weird taste in her mouth. Oh, and her hair started falling out. Everything got better yesterday. She was almost back to normal. But when I came to see her this morning, she was in such a deep sleep I could barely rouse her. I'm really worried. And I'm driving myself crazy waiting for answers." She paused. "Are you sure I can't go in there and just yell at him? He doesn't have to talk. I can just tell him what a horrible person he is."

He smiled at the fierce look in her eyes. "Sorry. But no."

She blew out a breath. "Fine." She paused as her phone buzzed. Reaching into her bag, she pulled it out to read a text.

Her expression went from one of anger and frustration to shock.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is that about your mother?"

"No, it's about my parents' house. It's on fire."

"What?" he asked, shocked by her words.

Ignoring his question, she punched in a number on her phone, then said, "Jerry? What's going on?" She listened for a moment, putting a hand to her mouth in horror at whatever she was hearing. "Oh, my God! I'm coming right now." She ended the call and looked at him. "That was my parents' neighbor. The fire is huge. I don't know how a fire could even start. My mom has been here the last couple of days. And my father left Tuesday night or maybe yesterday morning. But no one has been in the house today."

His investigative instincts kicked into high gear. It seemed unlikely that all the events she'd just told him about were unrelated: her mother's mysterious illness, her father's sudden disappearance, and her parents' house fire.

He couldn't leave out the fact she'd almost been kidnapped last night. He'd assumed it was random. That she was just going to be used as a cover for Victor to get away from the hospital. Maybe that wasn't it at all.

"I have to go. I have to see what's happening at my parents' house," Alisa said, then suddenly frowned. "But my car is still in the garage, and I don't think I can go in there and get it. I still feel traumatized. I'll take a cab. But then I won't have a way to get back. I should really just go get the car."

She was talking more to herself than to him, but Jason jumped in, anyway. "Take a breath, Alisa. I'll go to the garage with you."

She stared at him with hope in her beautiful golden-brown eyes that made his stomach clench.

"Really?" she asked. "You don't mind?"

"Let me just tell my partner I'll be back in a few minutes. She's in the waiting room."

She nodded, then followed him down the hall. Savannah was just getting off her phone when they entered the room. She gave Alisa a questioning look.

"Ms. Hunt," Savannah said. "How are you today?"

"Not good," Alisa replied. "It's a long story."

"Alisa has an issue at her parents' house," he told Savannah. "I'm going to walk her to the garage so she can get her car."

"Okay," Savannah replied. "The attorney is on his way. He should be here in about twenty minutes, so I'll wait here for him."

"Great. I'll be back soon."

He could feel Savannah's speculative gaze on them as they walked to the elevator. She probably thought his behavior was odd, but he didn't have time to explain everything he'd just learned, and his gut told him that Alisa's unfortunate series of events might lead to a clue he had never expected to get from her.