As Red as Blood (The Snow White Trilogy) (9 page)

Lumikki watched from a tree limb, pressed against the trunk, as the three men ran in the wrong direction. She had run onto the path, leapt into the tree leaving as few marks as possible in the snow, and shimmied up. Then she had hurled the hat as far as she could down the path.

It had worked. But it wouldn’t fool them for long.

Ignoring the painful jolt to the soles of her feet as she dropped to the ground, she took off running again. Now the frozen air savaged her ears along with her lungs. But she barely felt it.

Away. Escape. Back to the road where the van stood parked. The side said “Mäkinen HVAC.” Lumikki would have bet anything that none of the men were named Mäkinen. She memorized the plate number, even though she suspected it wouldn’t be any use.

Her heart was pounding in her ears.

Off the hill, back onto Pyynikki Road. Now she started seeing cars and people. The lights of an approaching bus were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Lumikki hailed the bus from a distance, and the driver took pity on her running in the cold and pulled off before the stop. Panting, Lumikki climbed on, paid her fare, and collapsed into the nearest free seat.

Her legs were trembling. Breathing hurt. As warm air flowed into her cold-punished lungs, an uncontrollable coughing fit racked her body.

The old lady sitting across the aisle gave her a simultaneously sympathetic and disapproving look.

“You should think about wearing some sort of hat in weather like this, young lady,” she said condescendingly. “Otherwise, you’ll catch your death.”

Lumikki coughed in reply. Feeling began returning to her ears as a tingling itch. She pressed her hands to her ears to transfer body heat from her palms. What the hell had just happened? Why had someone tried to kidnap her? If it had been an attempted rape, it seemed strange that the men would continue pursuing her so manically. They had to have some connection to the money. But why had they been after Lumikki, who was little more than a random, unlucky bystander?

“A stocking cap would be best,” the old woman said, continuing her lecture.

The hat. The red hat. In a flash, Lumikki realized that the men hadn’t been chasing her at all. They had been chasing a girl in a red hat. And who did the red hat really belong to? Of course. They had wanted Elisa. That made much more sense. But unfortunately, that meant there was no longer any doubt about the money having been thrown in the right yard. The pursuit of a girl believed to be Elisa confirmed it.

Lumikki considered what would have happened if Elisa had left the house wearing the red hat instead of her. Understanding hit her in the gut. Elisa would never have gotten away. Elisa would be in that van right now, helpless, a prisoner, at the mercy of her hunters. Lumikki quickly pulled out her cell phone and texted Elisa.

Whatever you do, don’t leave the house. Keep the doors locked. Don’t let anyone in you don’t know.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who was not afraid.

The girl ran as people run who do not fear falling. Her small, strong, nimble feet sped over the rocks and stumps. On the soles of her feet, she felt the soft moss, the sun-warmed sand, the prickly pine needles, the dewy grass. She trusted that her legs would carry her wherever she wished to go.

The girl laughed as those laugh who have not yet known humiliation. Her laughter started deep in her belly. It filled her chest, gurgled in her throat, and bubbled on her tongue. Finally, it wriggled out of her mouth, shot through the air, and burst into apple blossoms on the trees. Her laughter warmed and brightened all that surrounded her. Often it ended in hiccuping, but that did not matter because the hiccuping only made her laugh all the more.

The girl trusted as those trust for whom the earth has never given way, whom no one has ever betrayed. She hung upside down and trusted that she would not fall. Or if she fell, someone would catch her before she hit the ground.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who learned fear.

Fairy tales do not begin this way. Other, darker stories do.

Lumikki was little again. She was nine years old. Or ten. Or twelve. In that hell, the years ran together, sliding forward interlocked as one black, indeterminate mass. Distinguishing or remembering what had happened when was impossible. What was real and what was nightmare.

But one thing she did know. She had never been afraid without good reason.

Lumikki curled herself up as small as possible and listened. She knew how to squeeze into an incredibly small space. She fit in cabinets. She fit in the dark, cluttered corners of closets. She fit into flat spaces where no one ever thought to look. She knew how to be so quiet that normal breathing sounded like a buzz saw in comparison.

Her nose ran. She let it run, controlling the overwhelming urge to sniff or wipe it with her sleeve. Thin, watery snot ran
onto her lips. She did not lick. The mucus continued down to her jaw and then dripped onto her knee. It had no significance. Her jeans were already dirty anyway. Mom would wonder about it at home. Mom would wonder, and she would keep her mouth shut tight.

There were things best not talked about.

There were things that only got worse if you named them out loud.

Lumikki listened. She heard the steps as they approached. She concentrated on them in order to stay calm. If she gave power to the fear, staying quiet would be impossible. She closed her eyes and thought of untouched, freshly fallen snow. She imagined the blue twilight. She made a rabbit bound across the snow, leaving beautiful, uniform tracks. Two small circles, one in front of the other, then two oblong marks side by side. The tracks calmed her nerves.

Nothing bad could happen once the rabbit had run safely across the snow.

Nothing bad could happen with the first stars appearing in the sky.

Nothing bad could happen with Grandmother’s snug cottage just a few steps away and the porch light burning brightly.

Lumikki listened as the steps retreated. She breathed a little more freely.

She had succeeded in staying hidden. She had not been found out.

What would it feel like not to need to be afraid every day?

Lumikki did not wake up with a start. She shifted gradually from sleeping to wakefulness, feeling her legs and arms growing longer, her body changing from a girl’s to a woman’s, uncoiling from a ball. She accepted the years that separated her from the Lumikki of her dreams. She was not small anymore. She was seventeen. And she hadn’t needed to be afraid every day for a long time now.

Except she was again. Because she had gone and meddled in someone else’s affairs.

Elisa had been calling her all night, hysterical, jumping at every squeak and groan of the cold house, wanting to hear Lumikki’s reassuring words. She had panicked when her father didn’t come home when he said he would. In the middle of one call, Elisa suddenly shrieked. Lumikki listened as Elisa ran somewhere, slammed a door behind her, and turned the lock.

“Someone just came in downstairs,” Elsa croaked into the phone.

“Okay. Where are you now?”

“I locked myself in the bathroom.”

Lumikki had surmised as much from the sounds. Apparently, Elisa did not know how to move silently. She had never needed to learn. If a professional killer had forced his way into the house, the noise she was making would lead him to her instantly. And besides, a locked bathroom was probably the worst possible hiding place. She would be like a microwavable TV dinner in there. All you had to do was use enough force to open the packaging and then devour the contents. You didn’t even really have to heat it up.

“Did whoever it is break down the door?” Lumikki had asked.

“No, they used a key.”

Lumikki had felt like hanging up right then and there instead of waiting for Elisa’s next sentence, which was beyond predictable even before she opened her mouth.

“Huh. Maybe it’s my dad. Yeah, he’s calling me from downstairs,” Elisa had whispered into the phone.

No shit, Sherlock.

“Good. I’m hanging up now,” Lumikki had said firmly.

“Don’t go! Or, I mean, not before you promise to come back tomorrow. I can’t be here alone, and I can’t go out.”

Elisa’s voice had a surprising strength.

Lumikki had wanted to refuse. She had wanted to be done with the whole mess while it was still possible to get out. Her pursuers hadn’t gotten a good look at her. She could still wash her hands of this. They weren’t really even dirty yet. She wasn’t the one who dove into a bag of bloody money with both hands.

Lumikki felt like banging her head against the wall after ending the call. She had gone and promised Elisa she’d come. Again.

Boris Sokolov drummed his fingers against the side of his beer glass. The beer was flat and foul tasting. An excellent fit for his mood. The first beer-hungry bar maggots had crawled out of their holes and were already sitting in the dimly lit room at their regular tables. Boris had reserved a booth for himself and the Estonians. By all appearances, no one had bothered
to wipe down the table at the end of last night’s shift. And why should they bother? That fit his mood perfectly too.

They had botched it. Pulled a Russkie, the Finns sitting at their usual tables would have said, and this time, Boris wouldn’t have been able to argue. They had to abandon the kidnapping plan. They’d had one chance, one try, and now they’d wasted it. Boris had received a short text message simply saying that he needed to handle the job. He was personally responsible.

He had to come up with some other way to scare this guy back into line.

“What if he doesn’t realize Natalia is dead?” Viivo Tamm suggested, following the question with a long pull from his glass.

“He has to know. Who else’s blood would he think was on the money?” Boris asked.

Viivo shrugged. Linnart Kask said nothing. Sometimes Boris suspected Linnart was even simpler than he let on.

Boris considered Viivo’s words. Could there be something to that? What if the cop really didn’t understand that his beloved Natalia was a corpse? Natalia might not have told him about her plan to escape with the money. Right now, the cop might just be irritated that he had to deal with a bunch of stained cash. Maybe that was why he was claiming he hadn’t received it at all.

Boris had thought the cop and Natalia genuinely cared about each other. He had been certain that they’d planned her getaway together. Perhaps he had underestimated Natalia’s ability to make her own decisions. Natalia might have finally
realized that it didn’t pay to trust anyone too much and that no one was going to save her. On some level, Boris understood Natalia’s decision.

He had never said it to Natalia, but at times, he had thought of her as the daughter he never had. A small part of Boris would have liked to let Natalia escape. But a larger part of him had understood the world of trouble he would have brought on himself if he had. That was why he’d had to harden his heart and think of Natalia running across the snow as a rabbit, a pest and a nuisance. Only then was he able to pull the trigger.

But even if the cop hadn’t known about Natalia’s plan, that didn’t fix their current problem. That he was trying to shake them down. That they had to put a stop to it, and fast.