Chapter 2
Daniel
“Idon’t want to go to a new school!” Henry’s voice rings out from the seat behind mine with a low-pitched whine. Anyone would think I was sending him to jail, even though a move is never easy for a child. My nephew sits with his arms tightly crossed over his sweater vest. This morning had been yetanother battle. I had tried to persuade him that overdressing would put him at a disadvantage. The kids in this neighborhood will not be the same as the ones he”s used to from wealthy private schools. The designer labels may make him a target. He doesn”t want to alienate himself before he even gets a chance to speak. I wanted him to blend in and take his time. Naturally, he refused.
Henry had been quick to counter my comment with a retort I knew all too well: ‘There’s power in being the best-dressed in the room.’ I can’t argue with him, and he knows it. Hell, I’m the one that taught him that. I know it will only be a week max until he begs me to go buy the same clothes as whatever his friends are wearing.
I had hoped the change might humble him slightly as he’s never attended public school before.
It’s a very far cry from the expensive, exclusive private schools that he’s always known until now. Our family’s wealth has afforded him entrance to many doors that are locked for most. He’s gotten used to it. Removing him from everything he’s grown accustomed to was a necessary evil, so I’m willing to give him some leeway on the things that don’t matter. Like sweater vests.
“I know, Henry. You’ve told me that every day for the last three days,” I answer evenly. I know patience is a difficult virtue, and Henry is currently getting a crash course in it. I”ll maintain my composure until his whining becomes disrespectful. For the past twenty-four hours, he has been toeing the line between bad attitude and adolescent rebellion.
“I don’t understand why I have to come here! I want to go back to New York!” He stares out the window petulantly as he speaks. He observes the winding, narrow country streetsas the trees around him begin to thin. It”s no longer the back roads, but rather the more developed areas. I use the term developed loosely. I guide the car around the back of the school. “It’s so green here… there’s nothing to do.”
I smirk and resist the urge to laugh. Having grown up in the city, I”m sure it must be strange for him. He”s accustomed to concrete jungles and skyscrapers. I refuse to acknowledge that I may have spoiled him. I”ve always wanted the best for him. I might have left him in New York if I”d known how long I”d be out in the sticks. But that was not an option.
Henry shifts in his seat and starts to fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve until it sits exactly the way that he wants.
“You’ll adjust,” I answer evenly. “It is perfectly normal to feel anxious about change, Henry, but you will adapt quickly so long as you keep an open mind.”
I do feel guilty that my business affects him. But given my current mission, I didn’t have an abundance of choices. There were so few options, and the only one that made sense was to uproot him from the Upper East and transplant him here. When he”s old enough to join the family business, he won”t have to be kept in the dark about things like this. I know he”ll approach everything with duty and honor, no matter how difficult our lives can be.
Hopefully, he won”t be forced to care for me the way I am for my ailing father. It hadn”t been easy getting him out of town, but it had certainly helped furthermy cover story.
“As soon as our business here is concluded, I’ll take you back to your beloved penthouse in New York and you’ll be allowed to finish out the remainder of the school year there.” I glance at him once more in the rear-view mirror as we pull into the back parking lot. Yellow buses with cracked and peeling letters are unloading children ahead of us. He should be able to assimilate without drawing overt attention to himself. If his clothes don’t make him a conversation piece, that is.
I can still see so much of my sister in him: the same wide hazel eyes and her full, thick brown hair. Sometimes, I think he looks like me, too: the strong jawline, the high cheekbones, his ability to keep careful control of himself. He’s unlike any ten-year-old I’ve ever met. No doubt his maturity came from watching me. I watch the emotion fade from his face in the rear-view mirror as he puts on his emotionless mask. He’s growing up too fast.
Soon, the car is parked, and we exit. Until he knows how things work with the kids here, he can’t allow himself a moment of weakness. And at that moment I know that someday, he will be far more powerful than me or my father.
“I’ll walk you in.” It’s not so much an offer as an order.
His resolve flickers for a moment as he glances back at me. “What? No! Nobody else’s parents are going in with them.”
“Yeah, but as you are a new transfer, I need to make sure that the principal has all of your correct documents, my contact information, blah blah blah...” I wave my hand dismissively at him and stroll toward the school. Henry jogs after me, trying to keep up with my long strides.
Everything that I said to him is true, but I do have an ulterior motive as well.
We’ve come to this crater in the ground of a town to find Helena Russev. We”ve come to exact our vengeance. If I don”t get Helena, I may never be able to redeem my family. I want to resurrect our legacy and get us out of the black ledgers in which we”ve been rotting. We”ll come back into the light. I won”t stop until the name Colombo is restored to its former glory, until it regains the respect it once commanded, its reputation... a reputation that my father worked tirelessly to destroy.
For her crimes, Helena’s death will be slow and painful. She should have known better than to try and run in the first place. There’s nowhere on this earth she could hide from me, nor any hole deep enough for her to wait out the brutal Nikolai. His ruthlessness and determination will make him a powerful ally to me. Truthfully, it’s almost too simple.
Kill Helena, and I will secure an alliance between our two families.
I hold the door open for Henry and pull my sunglasses from my face to allow my eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Helena’s probably employed as a janitor or working as a secretary. She will have wanted something where she could keep her head down, where she could keep the attention from herself. It might take a bit of time to locate her. The tricky part will be getting her alone in a way that will not draw excess attention to myself.
I accompany Henry to his homeroom after we pick up his information at the registration office. He stands just outside the door andcan hardly take his gaze away from the schedule in his hands. That is a good sign in my opinion. Perhaps he”s beginning to allow himself to be excited about his new situation, even if it”s intimidating. I”m not sure he understands where we”re going until we stop walking. He appears to have discovered what he was looking for.
“Thanks. For coming in… when I said not to,” he mumbles sarcastically. Henry keeps his eyes downcast. Since his mother passed, he’s been a bit closed off.
“Of course, I’m always going to be here for you.” I wrap my arm around his shoulders and tousle his hair affectionately to reassure him. Before I start to walk away, he pinches my jacket and stops me from leaving his side. All it takes is a moment of hesitation to show me just how nervous he really is.
“Suppose they don’t like me…” Henry confesses in a small voice.
“Then they’re fools. And you know we don’t abide fools.” I wink at him ominously. He doesn’t know the depth of truth to that comment. “Don’t worry too much. I’ll be here to pick you up when class lets out. Maybe, if you try to have a particularly good day, we can go out for your favorite meal. I saw a place on Main Street that looks good enough.”
Henry hugs me so tightly and quickly that I nearly miss it. He doesn”t say anything before darting into the classroom, leaving me alone in the corridor. It”s never easy to see him go. I”m overcome with sadness as I realize the one thatshould be here ismy sister. Instead of me, she should be the one to accompany him to class. I can almost feel her presence with me right now. She would be overjoyed and proud ofher son. Hopefully, she will feel the same way about my raising him in her absence.
I”m hoping he can at least make some new friends. He”s a good kid, hewill quickly find a place for himself here. I knowit. I only stay long enough for Henry to find a seat.
The hallways slowly empty as the rest of the students filter into their various classrooms, carrying their zealous early morning chatter with them.
I set a slow, almost leisurely pace through the halls on my way back out of the school. Most likely, I don’t have too long to look for the woman I’ve been sent to find before the staff starts asking questions. My steps echo off of the lockers until they set a beat against the background of a haunting cello tune coming from the hallway to my left.
There is no logical reason for my feet to rechart their course toward the music. I suppose I just never considered that somebody from this place could produce something so achingly beautiful as this melody. It’s familiar to me, calling to me from the recesses of my mind as I struggle to recall the name of the piece.
The somber notes carry through the halls in stark contrast to the vibrant conversations that filled them only moments ago. I follow as a man possessed. I almost forget completely about my mission as I walk toward the music. My only purpose now is to find the source of this cello and the person playing it.
I come to a stop in front of a pair of double doors, one of which is still bolted shut. The other is held open by a discarded table leg. I pause in the doorway. I”m not sure why I don”t go inside. I prefer to linger.
A woman sits in a metal chair in the center of the room. She”s posed about halfway away from me. Two teenage girls sit on the carpeted metal stand risers, whispering softly to one another. Their gaze shifts to me, curious about my intrusion but not alarmed enough to disrupt the performance.
The teacher plays with her eyes closed, and I only catch glimpses of her angular features and sharp jawline as she shifts with the notes she plays so beautifully. Her blonde hair is cropped close to the natural line of her jaw. Even from a distance, I can tell she”s a stunningly beautiful woman.
If I close my eyes, I might be able to imagine myself in a private box seat at any symphony concert I”ve ever attended. She”s far more talented than I”d expect a teacher in this placeto be.
I attend every live classical performance available to me, not that it’s a fact I would ever readily advertise. It’s both a weakness of mine and my greatest joy, as I never had the talent to play a single note myself.
If she’s aware that she’s no longer alone, she doesn’t show it. It’s a really remarkable way to introduce a new group of students to a class. The few that have already arrived are enraptured by her as her bow slides so easily over the strings. Her passion must come from a place of great sadness to be able to play Chopin so well.
I’m almost ashamed that it took me so long to recognize the piece as Etude Op. 25 No. 7. The music flows through her, magnifies in intensity, and I’m as enthralled as her students.
I want… to know her. I want to know what sort of pain a person from this town could endure to make her play so authentically.
As the final notes begin to play, my hand slides into my pocket and I lean against the closed door. I flip over the small object I”ve brought with me in my hand and back again. It”s a tracker for Helena when I find her. Something that will allow me to monitor her movements and find the ideal moment to exact Nikolai”s revenge on her.
Imagine my surprise when she fumbles the final note and sharply turns to look at me with the most piercing gray eyes I”ve ever seen in my life. And they belong to the woman whose image I”ve been carrying around for weeks while putting this whole plantogether.
Helena Russev.
I’ve found you.