Georgia threw herself back on the bed just as the door flew open. A man she hadn’t seen before was silhouetted in the doorway. He gazed around with suspicion, as if he thought she’d been up to something but wasn’t sure what. Then in perfect English, he said, “Vlad is on the way. He wants to see you.”
“Will you please uncuff me? I’m harmless.”
The man hesitated, then shook his head. “Only if he says so.”
She wanted to ask the guy if he always did exactly what Vlad said but thought better of it. He seemed like the type who’d tell Vlad she was trying to drive a wedge between them. Which, of course, she was.
He closed the door and relocked it, then banged on Savannah’s door with the same message. His boots clomped as he went back down the stairs.
An assortment of emotions roiled Georgia: relief, joy, a sense of achievement that she’d found her sister. But they were tempered by mounting apprehension. How was she going to get them out of here? She had nothing to work with. The man she was up against had every advantage.
She went back to the vent.
“Savannah?”
“Yeah?” Her sister sounded desolate.
“Tell me something,” Georgia asked. “You’re sure Vlad is the father of your baby?”
It took her a moment to answer. “Yes,” Savannah breathed. “He fucks all the girls. I thought I was special. And I was. For a while.” She paused. “Georgia, are you a blonde?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Her sister sucked in a breath. “Never mind.”
Georgia sat back. Vlad was impregnating girls, sowing his seed, creating tiny beings who might be adopted and whose mothers were later murdered for their parts. What kind of monster runs such an evil three-ring circus? What kind of person harbors such deep hatred? Was Savannah going to be killed after she delivered? She had to come up with something to save them both.
Savannah cut into her thoughts. “What are we going to do?”
Her voice was small and desperate. She was waiting for Georgia to take the lead. To be the big sister. To save her. But how?
“Tell me about the layout downstairs.”
“Well, you already saw the kitchen and the stairs. If you cross the hall instead of going up, there’s a living room. Vlad put track lights in there for inspections.”
“Inspections?”
“When he gets a new girl, he makes them parade around the room while he decides which ones he’s going to fuck and which he pimps out.” She hesitated. “I was his girl longer than anyone else.”
Georgia frowned. “You sound like you’re proud of it.”
“He wasn’t all bad. He got me off dope. And had a doctor examine me.”
Georgia jerked her head up. “A doctor?”
“He took my blood. To make sure I didn’t have an STD. Or AIDS.”
And figure out what your blood type is, Georgia thought.
“Vlad gave me a pair of earrings for Christmas,” Savannah went on. “And you know, sometimes I used to catch him staring at me. I was never sure whether he wanted to hurt me or love me. But then he would break into that strange smile of his and make a joke. Or throw himself on top of me and make love.”
“Make love? Are you kidding?”
“It wasn’t always just sex.”
Sure, Georgia thought. Her sister had a case of Stockholm syndrome. “Except that he impregnates whoever he wants and kills them afterward.”
“You know about that?”
“Yes.”
“I just found out,” Savannah said. “A girl, my friend Jenny, used to have your room. But she couldn’t handle it and tried to run away. She”—her voice cracked—“she’s dead now.”
Georgia put it together. “Was she the girl they found on Route 173 a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“She was your friend?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry, sweet—” Georgia cleared her throat. “So what do you know about Zoya?”
“She works for him. She’s around a lot, especially when girls go into labor.”
“Is she a midwife?”
“A what?”
“Never mind.” Georgia was quiet. Then, “Didn’t you used to be at a warehouse in downtown Chicago?”
“Vlad moves us around a lot. Apartments, warehouses, the farm. We’re always coming or going.”
Of course they were. Vlad had to stay one step ahead of the law as well as the johns, whores, and guys like Bruce Kreisman.
Savannah cut into her thoughts. “Georgia, are you still there?”
“I’m thinking.”
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. What are we going to do?”
“Can you handle a gun?”
“I—I…no,” Savannah said, her voice crestfallen.
“Well, you’re in for some on-the-job training. I assume he’ll keep us under tight guard. And he’ll probably keep my hands cuffed. I’ll do my best to think of a diversion, and if it works, you’re going to have to find a gun. They took my Glock and my revolver. Do you have any idea where they’d be?”
“They usually keep them in the kitchen.”
“Good. If you can find them, go for the revolver. You know, the one that looks like a cap gun. It’s smaller and easier to use. All you have to do is aim and squeeze the trigger. Try to shoot your way out, then run like hell. Hitch a ride to the police station and have them call Jimmy Saclarides in Lake Geneva.”
“Who’s he?”
“A friend. Say the name so I know you know it.”
“Jimmy Saclarides.”
“Good.” But it wasn’t good. Not at all. Savannah didn’t know it, but you couldn’t really call what she’d said a plan. All they had was a wish and a prayer.
* * *
The crunch of tires on snow and gravel signaled Vlad’s arrival. A car door slammed.
“Oh fuck. He’s here!” Savannah cried. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Her sister was losing it. Georgia had to keep it together. Tension tightened her neck and shoulders, but she forced herself to think. They needed to create a diversion so Savannah could look for the gun. But what? Finally, an idea came to her. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“Savannah, listen to me. I have an idea.”