His cell buzzed again. White looked at the screen and frowned. “I’ve got to take this, Kathy.”
“It’s fine, Sergei. Take your call.”
He stepped back to the place he’d been standing in before. He talked quietly into his cell, so quiet she couldn’t make out any of his words.
She placed her chopsticks on the side of her plate. No more bites. She felt completely frustrated by how this day had turned out. She thought about looking back at Bryant and Emmett, but she couldn’t right now. It would be much too painful, but more pain was heading her way. Sergei meant for her to go with him back to their home outside Chicago. She closed her eyes and tried to bring up anything about the place. Nothing. The only space that came back was the playroom in the brothers’ cabin. She crunched her eyelids even tighter. The picture of her and Sergei floated to the front of her mind. White had told her it had been taken at her birthday party. That didn’t feel right to her. Yes, it was a birthday party, but it wasn’t hers. Then whose? The face of the sweet boy glided on the surface of her consciousness, next to the invisible wall. Was the party where the photo had been taken for him? For Juan?
Juan. Juan Garcia. She remembered. It was his twelfth birthday. She’d put it together for him in the main room of the boys’ home where she worked. She opened her eyes and felt the tears of recollection roll down her cheek. She visualized the wall, which had kept her memories locked away since her accident, crumbling into dust and then vanishing from her mind forever.
Like a flood, everything she’d forgotten came crashing back into her consciousness. Her name was Kathy White, just as Sergei had told her. But his last name wasn’t “White,” and he wasn’t her husband. He was her boss. Sergei Mitrofanov was the director of the Green Lakes Boys’ Home right in the heart of Chicago. She was the resident therapist for the place. The home was part of a network of homes for orphans, which were founded and funded by an anonymous philanthropist. What would he think if he
knew one of his boys’ homes was fronting a drug dealer?
Her mind slipped back to the moment that had changed everything for her.
Kathy looked out her window into the parking lot at Juan, standing next to his bike. She wondered why he was out there by himself. The boys usually rode their bikes together, which was encouraged by the entire staff, including her. It was important that the boys’ bonds grew. They were family. They needed each other.
She was about to head down the hall and go outside and ask him when she spotted Sergei out of the corner of her eye through her window. The director walked up to Juan and towered over him. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could see the boy’s trembling hands. Whatever Sergei was telling him frightened Juan.
Her mouth dropped as she saw the director reach in his suit coat and pull out a piece of paper and a plastic bag filled with what looked to her to be some kind of drug. Juan tucked the bag into his backpack before riding off on his bike.
Two emotions tied her up in a knot—disgust and fear. The first was for her sleazeball boss. The latter was for Juan.
She wasn’t sure what to do to get Juan out of harm’s way. She bolted to her car, passing right by the asshole.
“What’s wrong, Kathy?”
“Family emergency, Sergei,” she blurted, surprising herself.
Unfortunately, it took her two hours to locate Juan. She found him in a park a mile from Green Lakes. He sat in a swing, staring down at his feet.
“Juan,” she shouted.
He looked up and leapt to his feet. He ran to his bike, which was leaning against the wall near the swing set. She ran as fast as she could and got to him before he could escape.
Big tears fell from his brown eyes.
“Lo siento. Por favor, perdóname.” Though he spoke fluent Spanish, Juan mostly spoke English to her. Whenever he didn’t, she knew something was wrong. Really wrong.
“It’s okay, Juan. I’m here. Tell me what happened to the plastic bag Mr. Mitrofanov gave you in the parking lot.”
“I obeyed Mr. Mitrofanov, Ms. White. I took the bag to the address on the paper he gave me. Two men took it from me and gave me this money.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out two fat rolls of hundred-dollar bills.
She wasn’t about to count it here, but knew the stash had to be several thousand dollars. Her blood boiled hot. Sergei was using Juan to transport drugs to dealers. His dealers? Which of the other boys was the asshole forcing to do the same? She wouldn’t be surprised if he was using all of them.
Juan rubbed his eyes, swollen from crying. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, Ms. White, but Mr. Mitrofanov told me he would kick me out of Green Lakes if I didn’t do what he wanted me to do.”
“This isn’t your fault, Juan.” Unsure what her next move should be, she took him to her sister’s place, which was in Katy, a full hour away from Sergei and the boys’ home.
Belle gave Juan a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. Her nursing skills weren’t needed today, but her sister did know how to ease a troubled boy’s guilt.
“Kathy, here’s Nate Wright’s number.” Belle pushed the paper across the table. “I don’t know him myself, but I know people who do. He’s the sheriff up in Bliss, Colorado, and I believe he can help bring your goddamn boss down for good. Nate knows more about drug dealers than either of us ever will.”
She called Nate right then, hoping her sister was right about him. Their conversation was brief.
Wright’s voice came through loud and clear. “Without evidence, it will be next to impossible to convict this guy.”
“But I saw him give Juan the plastic bag.”