Vanish

The man stepped toward her, grabbed her blouse with both hands, and ripped it open, releasing a hail of loose buttons. The girl sucked in a startled breath and slapped him, sending his glasses flying. They clattered onto the floor. For a few seconds the man just stared at her in surprise. Then a look of such fury contorted his face that Jane flinched away from the TV, knowing what would happen next.

The blow landed on the girl’s jaw, the impact so powerful that it seemed to lift her right off her feet. She slammed to the floor. He grabbed her around the waist, dragged her toward the bed, and threw her down on the mattress. With a few sharp tugs, he pulled off her skirt, then unbuckled his trousers.

Though the blow had temporarily stu

“You cunt. You little cunt.”

He slammed his fist into her temple. The thud made Jane flinch. Nausea soured her throat.

“I paid for you, goddammit!”

The girl shoved at his chest, but she was weaker now. Her left eye was swelling, and blood trickled from her lip, yet she continued to fight. Her struggles only seemed to excite him. Too feeble to resist, she could not stop the inevitable. As he thrust into her, she gave a scream.

“Shut up.”

She did not stop screaming.

“Shut up!” He hit her again. And again. Finally he clapped his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries as he repeatedly rammed into her. He did not seem to notice that she finally stopped screaming, or that she had fallen perfectly still. The only noise now was the rhythmic creak of the bed, and the animal grunts from his throat. He gave a final moan and his back arched in a spasm of release. Then, with a sigh, he collapsed onto the girl.

For a moment he lay breathing heavily, his body flaccid with exhaustion. Slowly, he seemed to register that something was not right. He looked down at her.

She was motionless.

He gave her a shake. “Hey.” He patted her cheek, and a note of worry slipped into his voice. “Wake up. Goddammit, you wake up.”

The girl did not move.

He rolled off the bed and stood staring down at her for a moment. He pressed his fingers to her neck to check her pulse. Every muscle in his body seemed to go taut. Backing away from the bed, his breathing accelerated in panic.

“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered.

He glanced around, as though the solution to his dilemma lay somewhere in the room. Frantic now, he snatched up his clothes and began to dress, hands shaking as he fumbled with buckles and buttons. He dropped to his knees to retrieve his glasses, which had slid under the bed, and slipped them on. One last time, he looked at the girl and confirmed his worst fears.

Shaking his head, he backed away, out of the camera’s range. A door squealed open, swung shut, and footsteps hurried away. An eternity passed, the camera still focused on the bed with its lifeless occupant.

Different footsteps approached, and there was a knock on the door, a voice calling out in Russian. Jane recognized the woman who stepped into the room. It was the house mother, who had died while tied to a kitchen chair.

I know what happens to you. What they will do to your hands. I know you will die screaming.

The woman moved to the bed and gave the girl a shake. Barked out a command. The girl did not respond. The woman stepped back, her hand covering her mouth. Then, abruptly, she turned and stared directly at the camera.

She knows it’s there. She knows it is filming.

At once she moved straight toward it, and there was the sound of the closet door swinging open. Then the screen went blank.

Mila turned off the VCR.

Jane could not speak. She sank onto the couch and sat in numb silence. Regina was silent as well, as though aware that this was not the time to fuss. That at this moment, her mother was too shaken to attend to her. Gabriel, she thought. I need you here. She glanced at the telephone and realized that he had left his cell phone on the table, and she had no way to reach him in his car.

“He is an important man,” Mila said.

Jane turned to look at her. “What?”

“Joe says the man must be high in your government.” Mila pointed to the TV.

“Joe saw this tape?”

Mila nodded. “He gave me a copy when I left. So we would all have one, in case…” She stopped. “In case we never see each other again,” she said softly.

“Where does it come from? Where did you get this video?”

“The Mother keeps it in her room. We didn’t know. We only wanted the money.”

This is the reason for the massacre, thought Jane; this is why the women in that house were killed. Because they knew what happened in that room. And this videotape is the proof.

“Who is he?” Mila asked.

Jane stared at the blank TV. “I don’t know. But I know someone who might.” She crossed to the telephone.

Mila stared at her in alarm. “No police!”

“I’m not calling the police. I’m going to ask a friend to come here. A reporter. He knows people in Washington. He’s lived there. He’ll know who that man is.” She flipped through the phone book until she found the listing for Peter Lukas. His address was in Milton, just south of Boston. As she dialed, she could feel Mila watching her, clearly not ready to trust her. If I make one false move, Jane thought, this girl will run. I have to be careful not to scare her.

“Hello?” said Peter Lukas.

“Could you come over right now?”

“Detective Rizzoli? What’s going on?”

“I can’t talk about it on the phone.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It could be your Pulitzer Prize, Lukas.” She stopped.

Someone was ringing her apartment buzzer.

Mila shot Jane a look of sheer panic. Snatching up her tote bag, she made a dash toward the windows.

“Wait. Mila, don’t-”

“Rizzoli?” said Lukas. “What’s happening over there?”

“Hold on. I’ll call you right back,” said Jane, and hung up.

Mila was darting from window to window, desperately searching for the fire escape.

“It’s okay!” said Jane. “Calm down.”

“They know I am here!”

“We don’t even know who’s at the door. Let’s just find out.” She pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”

“Detective Rizzoli, it’s John Barsanti. Can I come up?”

Mila’s reaction was instantaneous. She went sprinting toward the bedrooms, looking for an escape route.

“Wait!” Jane called, following her up the hall. “You can trust this man!”

Already, the girl was lifting up the bedroom window.

“You can’t leave.”

Again, they heard the apartment buzzer. It sent Mila scrambling through the window, onto the fire escape. If she leaves, I’ll never see her again, thought Jane. The girl has survived this long on sheer instinct. Maybe I should listen to her.

She grabbed Mila’s wrist. “I’ll come with you, okay? We’ll go together. Just don’t leave without me!”

“Hurry,” Mila whispered.

Jane turned. “The baby.”

Mila followed her back into the living room and kept a nervous eye on the door as Jane ejected the videotape and threw it into the diaper bag. Then she unlocked the gun drawer, took out her weapon, and slipped it into the diaper bag as well. Just in case.

The buzzer sounded again.

Jane swept Regina into her arms. “Let’s go.”

Mila scrambled down the fire escape ladder, quick as a monkey. Once, Jane would have been just as quick, just as reckless. But now she was forced to take care with every step, because she was holding Regina. Poor baby, I have no choice now, she thought. I have to drag you along on this adventure. At last she dropped to the alley, and led the way to her parked Subaru. As she unlocked the car door, she could still hear, through the open apartment window, Barsanti’s persistent buzzing.