“Sergei,” Vlad called. “Bring pen.”
Again Sergei materialized out of the gloom with a ballpoint pen, which he gave to Vanna.
Vlad motioned toward her cot. “Sit.”
She sat with the wrapper and pen.
“Make this good English.” Then he told her what he wanted her to say.
Her smile lost some of its wattage. “I can’t do that.”
“You do.” The icy look was back.
Vanna bit her lip. “But—but she’s my sister.”
“And I am father of baby.”
“I don’t want to see her.” Not now. Not like this, Vanna thought.
“You no do? If not, easy to fix.”
She would be dead before morning. Along with the baby. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to die after all. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll do it.”
Despite the cold, she was sweating. She wrote on the wrapper.
“Make English good.”
“I will. I am.”
Georgia, I am your half sister, Savannah. I’m in Chicago and I’m pregnant. I need your help. Please find me.
When she was done, she handed it back. “Why do you want her to find me?”
“Not your business.”
Her stomach knotted. “Why? Do you know her?”
“I say not your business.”
She blinked rapidly. She’d taken it as far as she could. She’d have to try another tack.
“We not finished,” Vlad said.
“What do you mean?” She felt the knot tighten.
“Sergei. Envelope.”
Sergei passed her a white envelope, which Vlad made her address. Georgia lived in someplace called Evanston. On Wilder Street. She didn’t know where Evanston was but figured it had to be close. She wondered if there was any way she could warn her sister. Vlad cut off her thoughts.
“Now give me hand.”
Vanna cocked her head. “Why?”
Vlad reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a knife. It looked like a Swiss Army knife, but thinner and sharper. Savannah gasped. She’d done what he needed. Now he was going to kill her. The blood left her head in a rush.
“Give me hand,” he said in a businesslike tone.
She tried to slip it into the pocket of her sweatpants. He was going to cut it off.
“Now.” He motioned.
There was nothing she could do. She extended her palm and looked away. Whatever was going to happen would be now. She felt a prick on the tip of her index finger. She turned back to gaze at her hand. A drop of blood oozed out. She stared at the blood, wondering what the hell he was doing. Then Vlad took the sandwich wrapper and rolled her finger across a corner of the wrapper until it was smeared with her blood. He handed it to her.
“Fold and put in envelope,” he ordered.
Vanna slipped the wrapper inside.
“Now lick closed.”
She did.
Vlad took the envelope, gave it to Sergei, and issued orders in Russian. Sergei nodded.
Without another word Vlad turned around and left the warehouse as suddenly as he’d come.