Almost Dead

It was then that her memory caught up.

After the first crossroads, she had glanced left. Distracted and with the rain in her eyes she hadn’t taken in the sign she had seen—not a large, flashing notice but a more modest sign with black lettering on white.

“Pensione.”

That was the word Vadim had used. That was the Italian for backpackers’ lodge, or at any rate a close equivalent.

“Why are you slowing?” he asked, and now his tone was sharp.

Ahead, Cassie saw the blaze of waiting headlights. There was a white van parked on the opposite side of the street. It looked like Vadim was heading directly toward it.

He reached out and in a split second of pure terror, Cassie realized that he had sensed her hesitation, and was going to grab her arm.

CHAPTER THREE

Too late, Cassie realized she’d been stupid and talkative and way too trusting. In her need for companionship, she’d shared with this stranger that she was entirely alone in the world and that nobody knew where she was.

Scenarios of kidnapping, trafficking, and abuse spun through her mind. She had to escape.

Even as Vadim’s hand closed around her wrist, she pulled it away, and instead he caught hold of her jacket sleeve.

Fragile and worn, the fabric ripped, leaving only a shred of polyester lining in his grasp. Then she was free.

Cassie turned and sprinted back the way she had come.

Head bowed against the rain, she fled across the road as the light changed. Shouts and curses from behind told her that the large umbrella was proving more of a hindrance than a help to Vadim. She ducked left into a side street as a bus passed behind her, praying he hadn’t seen where she had gone, but another shout behind her told her that he had, and was following.

She made a right turn onto a busier street, and as she weaved through the slow-moving pedestrians, she tugged her jacket and beanie off, in case their colors would help him to spot her. She bundled the garments up under her arm, and reaching another crossroads, she glanced behind her as she turned left again.

Nobody seemed to be following, but he might still catch up—or, worse still, anticipate where she was going and be waiting there.

Ahead of her, a beacon of hope and safety, she saw the “Pensione” sign she’d spotted earlier. She couldn’t see Vadim anywhere.

Cassie sprinted toward it, praying that she could get inside, and out of danger, in time.

*

The blare of music from the guesthouse was audible from street level, where a flimsy, white-painted security gate stood ajar.

Pushing it open, Cassie thudded up the narrow wooden staircase. Voices, laughter, and the aroma of cigarette smoke wafted down to meet her.

She glanced behind her but the stairway was empty.

Perhaps he’d given up on the chase. Now that she’d gotten away, she wondered if she had exaggerated the threat. That parked van might have been a coincidence. Vadim could just have wanted her to come back to his place with him.

Either way, he hadn’t done what he’d promised, and he had tried to grab her as soon as she’d hesitated. Fresh terror surged inside her as she remembered how she’d only just managed to pull away.

She’d been such an idiot to blurt out to him that she was alone, that nobody knew where she was, that she was on a wild goose chase for a person who might never be found. Breathing hard, Cassie chastised herself for her appalling stupidity. It had felt like such a relief to share Jacqui’s story with a stranger who would not judge her. She hadn’t realized what else she might be sharing, too.

The security gate at the top of the stairs was closed. It led into a tiny foyer, which was unoccupied, but a button on the wall had a printed sign taped below it.

The words were in several different languages with English at the top.

“Ring for Service.”

Cassie rang, hoping somebody would hear the bell, because the music was deafening up here.

Please answer, she prayed.

Then the door at the other side of the foyer opened, and a strawberry-blonde woman of about Cassie’s age walked in. She looked surprised to see Cassie standing outside.

“Buona sera,” she greeted her.

“Do you speak English?” Cassie asked, praying that the woman was bilingual and would understand she needed to be let in quickly.

To Cassie’s relief she switched to German-accented English.

“How can I help you?”

“I need lodging urgently. Are there any rooms available here?”

The strawberry-blonde woman thought for a moment.

“No rooms,” she said, shaking her head, and Cassie felt gutted with disappointment. She looked over her shoulder, worried she’d heard feet on the stairs, but it must have been the thudding of music from somewhere inside the lodge.

“Please, can I at least come inside?” she asked.

“Of course. Are you OK?”

The woman buzzed the door open. Cassie felt the cold metal vibrate in her hands as the lock released and she closed it so that it clanged firmly shut behind her.

Finally, she was safe.

“I had a bad experience outside. A man said he’d walk me here but we ended up going a different way. He grabbed my arm when I realized there was something wrong, but I managed to get free.”

The woman raised her eyebrows, looking shocked.

“I am glad you escaped. This part of Milan can be dangerous at night. Please, come through to the office. I think I misunderstood your question. We do not have a room open; all the single rooms are booked. But we do have a bed available in a shared dormitory, if you would like to take it.”

“Thank you so much. I would.”

Weak with relief that she didn’t have to go out into the dark streets again, Cassie followed the woman through the small foyer and into a tiny office with a notice on the door: “Hostel Manager.”

There, Cassie paid for the room. Again, she realized the price was uncomfortably high. Milan was a costly place and there seemed no way of living cheaply.

“Do you have luggage?” she asked.

Cassie shook her head. “It’s in the car, miles away.”