Chapter 59 Alison
ALISON
I kept looking around at the other families in the waiting area, there because their kid broke an arm playing baseball, or their uncle had a stroke.
We were there because some guy poisoned one of us.
And we couldn’t even go to the cops: the FBI were still hunting me, and even if they weren’t, the cops would be happy to let one gangster kill another, just like my boss had said.
I’d never realized how lonely this life was, outside of the safe, secure system we all take for granted.
We were completely on our own: that’s why family was so important to the Aristovs. And for me. I was one of them, now.
A half-hour after we arrived, a lady in her seventies raced in, nimble despite her walking stick, and asked where her granddaughter was.
Gennadiy went over and embraced her, and introduced me: she was Baba, Bronwyn’s grandmother, who’d raised her after her parents died.
Then three of Bronwyn’s friends showed up, scared and desperate for news.
Radimir emerged briefly to tell us that it was still touch-and-go and took Baba in to see Bronwyn.
I caught one tiny glimpse of her through a crack in the curtains.
She looked waxy and gray, and there was a tube going up her nose. Ah, Jesus…
For five hours, we all paced and waited. And then Radimir came staggering out through the curtains, looking like he was about to collapse. “She’s going to be alright,” he croaked. “She’s responding to the treatment.”
There was a chorus of relieved sighs, and we all hugged Radimir. I saw him give Gennadiy an especially hard squeeze, and Gennadiy patted his back: It’s okay.
An hour later, we were allowed to go in and see Bronwyn. Gennadiy, Radimir, and I were in with her when she opened her eyes. Radimir threw his arms around her and held her tight. “Krasavitsa!” he breathed. “I thought I’d lost you!”
Bronwyn shook her head. But when he drew back, her eyes were full of tears. “The baby,” she whispered.
Radimir took her hands. “You weren’t pregnant.”
“But I would have been. If this had happened a month from now…” Her face crumpled. “This would have killed the baby, Radimir, how can we—”
She started sobbing, and Gennadiy and I quietly withdrew to give them some privacy. A little later, Radimir came out. “She’s sleeping,” he told us. “The rest of you should go home. I’ll stay with her and call you if anything changes.”
Gennadiy nodded. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“When you do,” said Radimir, “can you bring Bronwyn’s medication? She’ll need another dose tomorrow. It’s in her purse.”
I nodded, glad to have something practical to do.
We said goodbye to Bronwyn’s friends, gave Baba a ride back to her apartment, and then headed back to the mansion.
By now, it was late afternoon. We were met at the door by all of Mikhail’s dogs, who’d picked up on all the panic when we left.
They butted up against us, sniffing and demanding answers.
Where red-haired one? Why she no with you?
! We ruffled their coats, scratched their ears, and tried to reassure them.
Upstairs, I found the guest room Radimir and Bronwyn were using and grabbed the medication from Bronwyn’s purse, putting it into mine before I forgot.
Gennadiy followed me in and put his arms around me from behind.
Alone together for the first time in hours, I finally said what I’d been thinking all afternoon. “I don’t know if we can beat this guy.”
Gennadiy pulled me back against him. “We will,” he said firmly. “You’re going to find him. And then I’m going to break his neck for what he did to Bronwyn.”
I slowly nodded and felt another bit of FBI Agent-me slip away.
“Come on,” said Gennadiy. “Take a moment. Eat something. My chef makes this onion soup—”
A shout in Russian from downstairs, from one of Gennadiy’s men.
We ran to the stairs and looked down. The whole mansion was lit up red and blue from flashing lights outside.
Then a voice, amplified through a loudhailer.
“This is the Chicago Police Department! We have the place surrounded. Come out slowly and with your hands in the air!”