Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Alissa

In the morning I cooked us spinach and cheese omelets and hash browns, along with a packet of small, spicy sausages that Michelle didn’t like. Then Gregor drove us to the child psychologist I had found.

I held Michelle’s hand the whole way, nervous about the appointment, nervous about this new thing with Gregor, and struggling with what I would have to do after Michelle’s appointments. Phone calls, texts, and emails that had to get done. Announcements that needed to be made.

It was time for me to face the world again and update everyone on the fact that after all this time, Michelle had finally been found. I wasn’t ready for it. I wished I could just stay hidden in the safety and warmth of Gregor’s apartment and not face the world, or the endless questions from others, or the risk of being somewhere my maniac of an ex could find me.

I was still relying on Gregor, and he was stepping up in every way he possibly could. When he disappointed me, it was minor. When he said the wrong thing, it was a small accident—like when he talked about my ‘cute little butt’ in front of Michelle. Being around him made me feel safe and made me feel like Michelle was safer as well.

It was too soon to see if things would really work, but I was starting to pray that it would. I couldn’t deal with having another man in my life make it worse instead of better. Especially if he did the same to Michelle. But for now, he was as good as gold, and it gave me hope.

“So this doctor…” Gregor started.

“Amanda Mason. She’s a therapist with a specialty in childhood trauma. She’s probably going to refer us to a speech therapist as well.” I tried to keep my voice calm and not let my worries show. Michelle leaned on my shoulder, drowsy from her full tummy.

“I hope they can do something for her.”

“Me too,” he said gently, though he kept his focus on the road. It was a mess out there. The roads were icy and slushy, early morning sunlight glaring off the puddles, and wind pushed at the car like a gigantic hand, making it rock and skid slightly despite it being built like a tank. The feeling did nothing good for my nerves.

I was scared. Scared for my baby, scared of what I would learn, scared of what would happen when news of Michelle’s return broke. Both Michelle and Gregor could tell. Michelle kept looking up at me and silently patting my hand. Gregor glanced back at me every time traffic stopped, concern in his eyes.

“I should be ecstatic right now,” I murmured as Gregor fought traffic and the wind. “Michelle’s back. But all I keep thinking about is how the cops are going to respond when I embarrass them.”

Gregor was silent for a bit. He took the highway for a few miles to get above the gridlock. “Don’t you worry about the police, sweetheart. Yes, they’re corrupt and your ex is crazy. But they fucked up big time when it came to finding Michelle. That’s objectively true. You don’t even have to say anything about it for it to be true. You won’t embarrass them. They’re embarrassing themselves.”

I glanced at my daughter who was sleeping peacefully now, her head resting against my shoulder as if she couldn’t bear to break contact. “Do you think that they were prevented from making the arrest?” I asked tentatively. “You said the Ivanovs are protected by someone powerful.”

“Were protected,” he corrected gently. “It doesn’t so much work like that, from what my contacts have told me. It’s more like the police get paid off, agree to look the other way.”

“Oh God, that’s even worse. I might have forgiven their fuckups if their families were being threatened or something.”

“No, you don’t threaten the police like that. If you threaten a cop’s family, you end up with angry badges from all over the state showing up. You threaten them with their own dirty secrets, or you bribe them and then blackmail them for taking a bribe. It always has to involve their doing something wrong for it to stick.”

“I see.” How did he know all of this? Who did he used to be a bodyguard for?I was reminded again of just how little I knew about him. We had shared a lot of stories, his childhood in Yekaterinburg emigrating from Russia to the States to stay with distant family, his military training, working his way up from poverty. He wasn’t being secretive or anything like that, but there were still big gaps in what I knew about him. And apparently some of that had involved hanging out with criminals enough to learn some of their ways.

As we parked in the psych clinic’s lot, I wondered if I should be worried. My gut told me not to be, but maybe I was too biased to judge correctly. Would a shady background be a dealbreaker for me?

My heart said no. Because despite that, Gregor had gone out of his way to be good as gold to us. How could a man who treated us that well be a bad person? He was like the anti-Alan. He had shady connections but was a good man. Alan had a squeaky-clean reputation and a hero-cop image, but he was a horrifying piece of shit.

“I’m not worried about embarrassing the police because I don’t think they deserve it. They do. In fact, a little public humiliation might motivate them to clean house.” I shivered slightly as he slid into a parking place and stopped. Michelle shifted against me and woke with a start, her blue eyes momentarily filled with panic then she seemed to relax again. What had my poor, innocent daughter been through? I only hoped that the therapist would be able to undo the damage, and it wasn’t too late.

“What is it, then?” Gregor asked, pulling me back to the present.

“I’m worried about what they’ll do to me,” I admitted, voice low, like I was confessing a dirty secret.

“Well, that’s sure understandable with the sh—with what Alan pulled.” He gave a slightly worried glance at Michelle as he struggled to control his swearing.

That was adorable enough to make me smile despite it all. I helped Michelle out of her car seat and lifted her over the puddle of ice beside the car door. “Oof, you’ve gotten so big!”

She giggled a little. That was promising. Wasn’t it?

“Yeah, well, hearing he was trying to get into my apartment and putting trackers on my car has wrecked any faith I had left in the cops. I don’t trust that they won’t turn out to be bad guys.”

I took Michelle’s hand, and we picked our way around the ice patches to the clinic’s front door. My stomach started fluttering as we walked into the waiting room, which was all bright primary colors and molded plastic chairs. Gregor stayed standing so he wouldn’t destroy any of them. I went up to the blond wooden counter and forced a smile at the receptionist, who had big, liquid brown eyes and a grandmotherly sweetness to her expression. “Hi, I’m here with Michelle for Dr. Mason’s nine o’clock.”

Michelle peeked over the edge of the counter solemnly.

The receptionist beamed at her. “Well, hi there, sweetie.” She looked up at me. “I’ll let her know. It will be about ten minutes.”

Twenty minutes of reading to Michelle and schooling myself on patience later, we were called back into a pretty little study that reminded me a bit of Gregor’s office. Plenty of books, a large couch, overstuffed chairs, a desk in the corner. Gregor didn’t have a stand table or cupboards full of toys, though.

Dr. Amanda Mason was a tiny woman with a lined oval face, small green eyes, and a heavy wine velvet suit with a long skirt and embroidery. Her voice carried a thick Germanic accent, and her smile was like the sun coming up.

“Well, hello there. Come in, come in, make yourselves comfortable.” She gestured to the couch. We sat, the two of us flanking Michelle.

Michelle looked at this new person with solemn curiosity. She had been fairly calm on the ride over. Now, she looked between the three of us, as if trying to decide what to make of this situation.

“So,” the doctor said, looking at Gregor and me. “Why have you brought Michelle to me today?”

“Where to begin,” I sighed.

She smiled indulgently. “Take your time.”

I told her the whole story. The kidnapping, what I knew of her kidnappers, the police being useless, Gregor stepping in, Michelle’s return, and her absent voice. I had barely started before the doctor’s smile had died and she was rapidly keying things into her laptop. By the end of it, she looked downright concerned.

“Are you in therapy yourself?” she asked.

“I’ve been a member of a support group for over a year now,” I said.

“Good. It is important to care for yourself enough while you are caring for your daughter. If you are distressed, she will pick up on it. Besides, if you are in a good place, you will have more resources to look after her.” More typing. “That said, what you and your family have been through is incredible. This will probably reach the press, which will mean a whole new pressure on you and yours. Especially Michelle.”

Gregor spoke up for the first time. “I intend to be very strict when it comes to press access. If the situation becomes uncomfortable for either Michelle or Alissa, I will step in.”

“That’s good to hear, and I’m glad you’re involved,” the doctor said as I sat there stunned. Here went Gregor, surprising me again with how much he actually gave a damn. How rare had that been in my life that it kept shocking me?

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Believe me, I’m grateful. I’ve been handling this all on my own, just because we’d fallen out of touch, and now… When Gregor showed up, my luck and Michelle’s finally turned.”

Gregor hid a smile.

The doctor didn’t hide hers. “Well,” she said. “A positive home life is the absolute best thing you can give your daughter to get her talking again. Clearly, she’s been traumatized. She saw something, or had someone say something to her, that silenced her. But now that she’s home safe, she should recover. It is just a matter of time, patience, and work. That said, I think having her work with a speech therapist is very important. I have one I work with who specializes in young children. Emailing you now.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. “Now, as for our work, it is very difficult for your daughter to express herself without words, so we will try to use other methods to communicate. Art, for example. As she learns to write, she can use that as even more of a bridge to speaking again. Baby steps.”

“Baby steps,” I confirmed. “So, where do we start?”

“Get her started on her letters and give her plenty of opportunities to draw. Eventually, I will ask her to draw some of her experiences.” She looked at Michelle. “Would you like to draw while we grownups talk?”

She nodded, and the doctor guided her to a big clipboard and a set of crayons. Michelle immediately went to work, a sliver of tongue caught between her lips as she concentrated.

We then figured out a game plan for her appointments and progress. The doctor seemed as concerned with shoring us up as she was bonding with my daughter. It put me at ease, as did her optimism about Michelle, but I still worried about what was going to happen once the news was out. If Michelle ended up being chased around by nosy reporters and officious cops, she might withdraw even further. I didn’t even know how I was going to handle such uncomfortable and unwanted fame myself.

At least Gregor was around, and willing to put himself between us and not only danger, but harassment. What in the world would I have done without him?

I would have done a lot worse, that was certain. And Michelle might never have been found.

Michelle finished her drawing and brought it to me proudly. I stared at it. I passed it to the doctor, and she to Gregor, who paled a shade or two but stayed stoic as he looked at what our daughter had depicted.

It was him. I could tell from his enormous leather coat, the crayon-squiggle wavy dark hair, and the two splashes of silver wax for eyes. He was with a little girl who was probably her, with yellow hair and pink pajamas. He held her hand with a hand that looked big and soft as a baseball glove.

In his other hand was a gun. Just a silver L, but anyone could have told right away what it was. The hand that held it was dark, claw like. Behind them was a burning house.

That strange fear I’d felt before intensified inside me. I looked over at Gregor, and he couldn’t look at me.

What was going on?