Never Look Back

  Dana's heart sank when she read Ginny's Delights.

  "Rob went to your apartment, and they told him about the fruitcake."

  "And the good friend that Rob is, he went to Ginny's cafe to get some answers," Dana finished.

  Circling the table, Agent Raymond nodded. "Stacy visited his studio and he took photos of her."

  Dana shrugged. "Rob's harmless. He's a photographer and agent."

  "Nude photos." Agent Wayne lifted his eyebrows. "I don't know how well you know your friend, but he admitted to having sex with Ms. Kestav."

  “I don’t believe you.” Since when did Rob have casual sex?

  "He hasn't stopped looking for you," Agent Wayne said.

  Tears spilled down Dana's cheeks. "Can't you tell him I'm alive? He's my best friend. Is that too much to ask?"

  Agent Raymond's eyes swept the carpet.

  “Please,” she begged.

  But the U.S. Marshalls escorted Agents Wayne and Raymond to the door and murmured, "Thanks again for rescuing Dana. We will take care of her from now on."

  "I know you need something from me." She glared at both U.S. Marshalls. "Unlike my mother, you're not going to manipulate me. We will do this my way."

  U.S. Marshall Collins grabbed a stack of folders from his desk and returned to the couch. He opened each file. "This is Natalia Akulov. She was thirteen when she was taken away from her family in Russia and smuggled to America." He opened another folder. "This is Valeria Bogdanov and her twin sister Valentina, both fifteen, and this—"

  "I've seen enough."

  "Anton was their leader, but there are others involved in this filthy business and we're trying to track them down. We know they have an underground headquarters in Manhattan and we're this close to busting them, but we have to plan this well."

  "Why can't you just kill them all?" she countered.

  "We're talking about a mob here. They come in packs, and until we track everyone involved, there's no guarantee they will stop," Agent Adams said.

  "What's in it for me? Will I get my life back? Will I get everything that I lost?"

  U.S. Marshall Collins pursed his lips. "We are here to protect you."

  "You keep saying that."

  U.S. Marshall Collins handed Dana a scrapbook.

  "What's this?" She flipped through the pages where she saw photos of her modeling career. As she reached the end of the page, she saw nine words written in bold with a red sharpie: Why didn't you tell me we had a daughter?

  Dana tossed the scrapbook on the floor.

  "After your mother left, she was in the run. The Markovic clan always came close. She must have lived in forty cities before the mob found this scrapbook."

  Pain shattered like a broken glass in the inside.

  "Now that you know the truth, Dana, we’re requesting that you cooperate with us."

  Dana didn't budge. This wasn't a request. More like a command. Dana would just be like her mother, living in fear and looking over her shoulder if someone was chasing her. She knew how this would all end—always be alone, surrounded by strangers, living a fake life, never getting close to anyone.

  What difference did it make? Her life was over.

  U.S. Marshall Collins unbuttoned his suit and sat across Dana. "I know this is a huge change for you."

  Dana glared at him. "Quit the small talk and let's get down to business. Just tell me what the next step is."

  "Very well." He folded his arms.

  Dana faced him, gritting her teeth. "And if I'm in this game, I need all the info I can get about this Vladimir—his job, what he likes, where he lives, and what keeps him awake at night."

  He crossed his legs.

  "For now, we are trying to track him down."

  "You mean you don't have any info on him?"

  The U.S. Marshall looked away. "We only recently discovered Anton had a son. There is no record of him, no paper trails."

  Anguish spat on her insides. "How am I supposed to protect myself?"

  He stood. "I can assure you will be protected."

  "So where are you taking me? What's my new name and my disguise?"

  He handed her another folder. "New Mexico. You're a librarian, married to a construction worker named Jake, and have a six-year-old daughter. Your new name is Lucy Mitchell."

  "And don't worry about Jake. He too is part of the WITSEC program so he knows the drill," U.S. Marshall Adams said.

  Staring at her new social security, driver’s license, and passport, Dana flashed her heart-stopping smile, her disguise. Something burning crept inside her then burst out as laughter. It felt good to laugh after days of trauma.

  The two U.S. Marshalls exchanged glances. She didn't care.

  ***

  Agent Felicia placed a fax on Agent Kerry's desk. "Check out what the media's saying, that Dana Simmons has been spotted and just needed time to grieve her father's death."

  Agent Wayne pushed the paper aside. "Heard about it on the news this morning. The WITSEC will have a difficult time pulling this off. She's famous, and it wouldn't be difficult to recognize her." He reached for the picture frame of his two daughters. Thank God they were safe. He wouldn’t wish that to happen to them.

  Felicia opened the window and stared out. "I feel bad for Rob Hanson. He's posted flyers on every block that she's missing. This is a man determined to find her."

  He rustled the papers on his desk and punched a number on the phone. "He's attracting more attention to the mob. We need to keep a closer watch on him, you don’t want the mob to harm him."

  ***

  Flicking his cigarette, Rob was disgusted to learn from the news earlier that morning that Dana wasn't missing. The media indicated that tourists in France spotted her recuperating from the death of her father. That certainly didn't sound like Dana, and he didn't buy it.

  He crossed the street, posted his last flyer, and entered Burt's cafe to meet the two FBI Agents.

  Agent Wayne raised his hand. Rob approached the table and removed his leather jacket.

  The waiter brought in coffee for the three of them.

  "Thanks for coming to meet us in short notice," Agent Wayne said.

  "My lawyer doesn't want me speaking to you guys without him." He lit a cigarette. "But I've nothing to hide and I know something's not right. I'm her agent.”

  "We’re aware of that." Agent Wayne said. "That's why we wanted to meet you."

  Agent Raymond showed Rob the note from Dana’s father.

  Rob read the note, his breathing becoming more ragged.

  "Is everything all right?"

  Rob bit his lip. "The day Dana disappeared, she told me about this note."

  "And why didn't you mention this to Officer Jones or Detective Schultz?"

  Rob cracked his knuckles. "Dana told me this in confidence, and I thought if I mentioned this to the police, her life would be in danger."

  "Her life already is in danger. You shouldn't withhold information from us."

  Rob grabbed his jacket and stood. "My lawyer was right. I should have never come here. You can't keep harassing me like I'm the bad guy here. You should be looking for the killer of those four women."

  "Wait." Agent Raymond held up her hand. "Please seat down. We aren't here to accuse you."

  "We want to help you, and maybe you can help us too," Agent Wayne added.

  Furrowing his eyebrows, Rob plopped himself onto the chair. "I hope this isn't some plot to frame me."

  Agent Wayne continued, "We know you're in a difficult situation, but we need somebody determined like you."

  "We believe the kidnapping of Stacy Kestav is connected to the four women who were murdered and also to your friend, Dana Simmons."

  Rob straightened his shoulders, relieved. "Thank you. That's what I've been trying to say all this time, but nobody listens to me."

  ***

  Vladimir Marcovic watched the three monitors in his office, the video of young women engaging in sex. Shifting his gaze to his fa
ther's portrait hanged on the wall triggered a distant memory when he was six years old.

  "Come here, Vladimir," His father had pulled him to sit on his lap as they sat in the restaurant they owned. Nobody was there except for a lady singer auditioning. "Isn't she beautiful?" His eyes had beamed in admiration. "When you grow up, you need to find a woman like that."

  "I want someone like Mommy," Vladimir said.

  His father grinned. "Mommy's okay, too simple. But this woman is the bomb. You need women like that."

  Vladimir nodded.

  The door flung open, and a group of young women flooded in and threw themselves at his father. They ordered drinks, lit cigarettes, and smoked away.

  "Slow down, ladies." His father chuckled. "My son's here."

  The ladies turned to Vladimir and tickled and kissed him till he couldn't stop laughing.

  On their way home, Vladimir had spotted his mother outside the porch waiting for them. She cursed her father in Russian.

  He leaned his body across hers. "I'm making lots of money, why are you complaining?" His voice boomed and echoed as they entered their house.

  "Other fathers play ball with their son. It's not healthy to take him to your restaurant with all the smoke and women."

  "You're comparing me with the husbands of your friends? Well, most wives give their husbands children."

  Vladimir had dashed to his room, but he could still hear his parents arguing. He learned he was adopted that day and hated his father ever since.

  "All I'm saying is that why can't we be a normal family?"

  "Who wants to be normal? Aren't you happy with all the money I give you? Don't you like this new house? How about the car? Do your friends have the clothes you have?"

  "Stop it, Anton, stop it."

  Vladimir turned on the TV, loud.

  The door flung open, forcing Vladimir back to reality. He shook his head, clearing away the memory as his tall, suit-wearing cousin popped in.

  "Constantine, what's up?"

  "I thought you'd be interested to know that Stacy Kestav did her first act today."

  Pursing his lips, he nodded. "Cool. Anything special about her?"

  "Dude, I had to test her first." He licked his lips like a vampire who just sucked blood.

  "I knew you would."

  "What's the matter with you?" Constantine pulled out a chair and sat across him. "You don't seem happy. Our viewers have doubled on the site, and the men here love our Russian women."

  "Same shit, different day, Constantine." He sighed. "I've been doing this as far as I can remember."

  "I'm new to all this, and I love it." Constantine put his feet on Vladimir's desk and shifted his gaze to the Central Park out the window. "We have a beautiful building with an amazing view, women at our beck and call, and money flowing out of our ears. Man, this is the life."

  Vladimir didn't blink as he remembered his father's exact words: "The Marcovic family possesses power and prestige. We will evolve through generations and become more powerful than we can ever imagine."

  "Okay, grouch, I'll leave you to your peace. I'll get you your favorite mango parfait from Ginny's Delights. That should cheer you up." He stood and exited the room.

  Vladimir rolled his eyes.

  Vladimir opened the drawer and removed his father's letter which he gave before he died.

  Dear Vladimir,

  I know I wasn't the father you expected me to be, and I blame myself for all my mistakes. You're a good son, and I'm entrusting the business to you. My only request is that you find Marcy Simmons and the daughter I never met and keep them safe.

  Love,

  Dad

  Vladimir banged his hand on his desk. Even on your deathbed, all you cared about was Marcy. I found Marcy, Dad, and I will find your dear daughter, and when I do, I'll kill them both.

  Chapter 14

  Dana stood at the doorstep of Jake Mitchell's home, clutching an overnight bag with six sets of clothing she never would have dared to wear before.

  U.S. Marshall Collins stood beside her, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. "Remember, you are to confide in nobody." He tucked a cell phone inside her purse. "I'm on speed dial one. Don't call your friends. This phone is only for emergency."

  Dana rolled her eyes. "I get it. What makes you think I'd want to use that cell phone when it’s not a smart phone."

  U.S. Marshall Collins raised his eyebrows. "Precisely."

  Dana clutched her hair. Far too short. Gone were her long blond locks. Dyed jet black now. She didn't even recognize herself. Tugging her jumper, cursing under her breath despite her life being in danger. Not giving in to her shallow pursuits, Dana couldn’t help but feel like she was in dire need of a fashion emergency. She reached inside her pocket and clutched the locket necklace. There was no way U.S Marshall Collins would take that away from her.

  A little girl peered from inside the window and waved her tiny hand.

  A sweaty man with dark brown hair and a beard popped out the door. Dana and Jake locked gazes, and soon his stern look softened as he smiled.

  "Jake Mitchell."

  "Da—"

  U.S. Marshall Collins cleared his throat. "This is Lucy."

  "Please to meet you." Jake clutched her hand tight.

  Dana swallowed hard, noting Jake's filthy nails. She turned to U.S. Marshall Collins.

  "Sorry." Jake pulled his hand away. "The construction site has been cruel to my nails. Do come in."

  U.S. Marshall Collins stayed put. "I gotta run. Lucy knows where to reach me."

  Jake nodded and escorted Dana inside.

  A cold shiver ran through Dana's spine as she stood in the hallway. She couldn’t bring herself to take another step when she glanced at the yellow wallpaper. Is this a joke? To her left was the living room with same boxed TV she had while growing up. Dana overheard the cartoon show and saw the little girl lying on her stomach with eyes were glued to the TV. She felt like she was revisiting memory lane, but this time, Dana was the outsider.

  "I won't bite," Jake said.

  "Sorry."

  The little girl approached them and clutched Dana's hand. Dana froze when the little girl tugged her arm.

  "What's your name?" Dana asked following the little girl and sat beside her, the girl curling up beside her.

  Jake watched them from the hallway. "She's deaf."

  Dana broke into a sweat. "I'm sorry."

  He approached them in the living room. "My wife died during childbirth. Molly was born this way."

  He still wore his wedding ring, and it brought back memories of her father. Dana had thought coming to New York would help her forget her past, yet here she was confronted with the reality she couldn't escape.

  "I'm sorry." Digging in her pockets, she put on her faux wedding ring that U.S. Marshall Collins gave her earlier that day.

  Jake shrugged. He faced Molly and while talking, made a sign that time was up and she needed to get ready for bed.

  Molly pouted and held her hand up.

  "All right, but only five more minutes." Jake turned to Dana. "Let me show you upstairs."

  Dana trailed behind him, and they entered the master's bedroom. A humble queen-sized bed with no decorations occupied the room. Her heart sank like a deflated balloon when she glanced at the barely there closet.

  "This is where you'll be staying." Jake muttered. "I'll sleep on the floor."

  "Thank you." Dana laid her bag on the corner and sat on the bed. It sank down. She’ll be now sharing a room with a stranger who didn't even look at her. Dana had been used to men gawking and ogling her like a goddess, and she had to admit that she enjoyed the attention. But today, she felt that she was below ordinary. U.S. Marshall Collins and Adams would compliment her for the perfect disguise.

  "There are fresh towels in the bathroom. I'm usually out at five. Our neighbor, Rachel, takes Molly to school every day. She's usually here at six and helps Molly get ready, but perhaps, tomorrow you can…"


  "I can help her get ready and cook breakfast." Dana surprised she said that. Since when did she cook anybody breakfast? Breakfast for her was fresh fruit, but she knew Molly would prefer bacon and eggs or even pancakes.

  "I made a list of things that Molly likes," he added.

  She nodded, meeting his eyes and capturing the tenderness and pain he felt. Consumed with her own problems, Dana never asked U.S. Marshall Collins and Adams why Jake was part of the WITSEC.

  "Thank you." He removed his shoes and set them aside. "Listen, please don't feel obliged to do this. I don't want you to think I'm doing you a favor. I can only imagine how difficult this may be for you, but your secret is safe with me."

  Dana looked away. She thought of her mother living from state to state, trying to blend in like a chameleon, never knowing when she would be free. "What did you tell Molly about me?"

  He grinned. "My daughter may be six, but she's quite sharp. I told her Daddy has a new wife who will be living with us."

  Dana pursed her lips. "Were your friends surprised that you got married?"

  "Sort of." He smirked. "I gotta tuck Molly to sleep. Feel at home, Lucy." He left her alone with her thoughts.

  Dana pulled out her cell phone, contemplating if she should call Rob, but decided against it. She took the envelope and counted her money—enough to buy a beat-up car to get to work.

  Perhaps she could imagine that she was on a vacation, that this was only temporary. Her ultimate goal was to save her mother and to track down Vladimir Markovic so she can kill him.

  Chapter 15

  In one week, Dana had bought a Beetle, settled into her job at the library, and bonded with Molly. She even picked up a book on sign language.

  Dana was frustrated to live in a small town like Blue Acres, New Mexico. Her research showed that only two hundred and six people lived here, and everybody seemed to be clannish. Nobody paid her any attention at the library, and the silence allowed her to spend time mapping out her escape. Each day, U.S. Marshall Collins checked up on her via phone like a guard checked on his prisoners. That's what she was—a prisoner with an identity crisis.

  Today, she had visited the local grocery and almost asked the cashier if they sold organic produce. Instead, she bought fresh vegetables, vowing to introduce healthy eating for Jake and Molly. She was tired of the frozen pot roast and mashed potatoes Jake served for dinner, and she was thrilled when she found quinoa.