That night Vanna couldn’t sleep. At one point she heard the crunch of cars on snow and gravel. She’d heard them before, but her room was on the other side of the house and she’d never actually seen the cars or the people in them. She only knew they hadn’t come into the house. Once she thought she heard a woman cry out, but when she asked, Zoya said she must have been dreaming.
Then there was the barn. All the time she’d been at the farm, no one had allowed her near it. She’d tried. One of the guards, Sergei, was almost human. He nodded when he saw her; even smiled once or twice. She begged him to let her go for a walk, and he consented, but, of course, he went with her. Anytime she ventured in the direction of the barn, he steered her away. Which, of course, made her more curious.
Now she wondered if the cars arriving at night and the barn were connected to what Jenny had told her. She didn’t see how. She wasn’t even sure Jenny was telling the truth. Girls who got pregnant, and there did seem to be a lot of them—four or five in the time she’d been at the farm—were probably given abortions, then sold.
If she’d learned one thing about sex trafficking, it was that there was always a supply of new girls. Fresh off the bus, duped into thinking they were going to be nannies, actresses, or models. Once snared by assholes like Lazlo, they were sold into trafficking, then hooked on heroin so they couldn’t buy their way out. Except for the ones who got pregnant. Like her, they were forced into withdrawal. But Jenny had a point. She never saw any of the pregnant women once they delivered.
If that was true, though, why was Vlad coming out here three times a week to have sex with her? And why was he fucking other girls, many of whom, according to Jenny, got pregnant as well? It made no sense. And yet, if it was true, she and Jenny were sitting ducks.
She didn’t want to leave. For the first time since she’d come to Chicago, for the first time since her father died, in fact, she’d found a sort of security. Sure it was crazy to think that being trafficked was stable. But Vlad had rescued her from the worst of it, and she didn’t have much to do except wait for his next visit. She wasn’t stupid enough to call it love, but it was something. He came to see her regularly, they had sex, they talked. She liked that part—the talking—best of all. They were getting to know each other.
But now Jenny was saying that it wasn’t real. That they were in danger. A tiny voice nagged Vanna and said Jenny was right. Vlad wasn’t her father, and the voice said he couldn’t be trusted. She would be smart to put some distance between herself and the farm.
Reluctantly, she and Jenny hatched a hasty plan. The next night they waited until it was late. Zoya allowed them to keep emery boards in their rooms, and they managed to tear them into pieces and wedge them into the back plate so that the door locks didn’t completely catch. They piled on as much clothing as they could, which wasn’t much since they no longer had boots, coats, or hats, and crept down the stairs. They sneaked out of the house and even made it partway down the driveway before a pair of bright lights kicked on and the guards soon overpowered them. After they threw them back in their rooms, Vanna heard Zoya on the phone.