He tries to close the door, but my foot is in it.
Enraged, I push him briskly aside and climb up the floating stairs of the grand staircase two at a time, heading towards the auditorium, where I think I see her. Her shadow seems to be slithering inside, ever so stealthily.
Gradually, my eyes adjust to the dark space sloping towards the stage. At first glance, it seems vacant, but my pounding heart tells me otherwise.
The auditorium—plush seating with red velvet cushions, punctuated with scrolled hardwood armrests—brings back fond memories. I conjure up a vision of myself down there, in the front row, wedged between my Mommy and Daddy, barely able to contain my eager anticipation for the curtains to rise.
I wish Browny were here to sniff Linda out—but at this point, I have only myself to rely on. A shiver goes down my spine. I tread, as softly as I can, along the wood railing of the upper tier, and suddenly I spot her in the lower one. Cowering in the corner of the aisle, she sneaks down the wooden stairs that lead to the bottom left exit.
I climb over the railing and onto a makeshift scaffolding, slide down a bit, and from there, hurl myself—thinking, while in flight, that I should have thought twice of doing that—and land with a splat in the aisle. Carpeting would have been nice, but there you have it. Hardwood.
I manage to roll to my knees, then dart down the stairs, where I grab her arm with a force I didn’t know I possessed. With a startle, she yanks herself out of my hold and makes a sprint, first for the exit, where I block her, then for the stage.
Staggering up there, I push her into a stumble at the edge of the stage, where the two of us have a bit of a cat fight. We roll on the dusty wood floor. She’s on top, then I am. She scratches my face. I shove her away, then find myself under her again. She punches me in the gut. I kick at her belly. She pulls my hair. I slap her hollow cheek.
I marvel at how strong she is, despite looking fragile. She claws at me with her nails as I gain the upper hand, but I steel myself for the pain. I pin her down, her bald head hanging over the edge.
Meanwhile, the actor rushes in. He calls out to her, “Shall I call 911?”
“Please do,” I growl.
But she squeals, “No!”
“You sure, Linda?” he asks her.
“I am.” She tries to catch her breath. “Do not call the police.”
He repeats, “You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. This is all just for show.”
“It is?”
“Go away,” she croaks. “Leave us alone.”
She coughs and at once, the wind goes out of her lungs. Her resistance gone, she lies flat at my feet, no longer thrashing about.
A wave of invincibility washes over me.
Then, gloom.
My triumph, I now realize, comes with a heavy price. I’ve subdued her, but what makes her ill can trounce me too, in the end. This woman coughed in my face before. Two weeks ago, I thought she feigned being sick. This time, her symptoms seem to be real. And serious. I make a mental note to myself to wash my hands when I’m done with her.
Linda presses a hand against her temple and lets out a sigh, as if to release the ache that needles her. Her skin is slightly feverish to the touch, and her voice—raspy. Even she can’t be that good of an actress.
In the near future, I’ll have to stay away from everyone I love. I must protect them from me, from the possibility of the dreaded Coronavirus reaching them through our closeness. I pray that they won’t need my help, because I can’t be there for them. My parents. My friends. Michael. Having to keep my distance, that’s the best case scenario. And I don’t even want to think about the worst case.
For now, let me focus on the moment. I have to make her confess. She must give the game away. “Get up,” I tell her, my voice resonating with intensity. “You and I have a little case of stolen identity to sort out.”
Her bullet grazed his head, but the leader of a Russian crime organization is still breathing. One way for Vlad to avoid paying the price for his crimes is to play dead; another is to play dying. For Ash, this is not a game. She must learn his secrets. Only one problem: because of the raging pandemic, she must put her plan on hold.
Vlad slips away from the hospital in a body bag, then develops a brazen fraud scheme that will bilk health insurance companies out of millions of dollars. If not caught in time, he will drive victims to suicide, rob Ash of her identity, and slit her throat.
Will Ash manage to stay one step ahead of him and at the same time, protect her loved ones from contagion?
