Page 68 of Broken Mercy
I stop, peering out, and stifle a gasp.
It’s a child’s room, mostly blue. I catch glimpses of sports posters on the walls. A woman sitting in a bed is singing to a young boy. Brenden moves closer and looks over my shoulder at the pair.
It’s Lena Sarkissian, Arsen’s wife, and the little boy is their child, Roman.
The song is in Russian. I know bits and pieces, coming back to me in snatches of memory. My mother used to sing it too, back during her rare lucid evenings. Lena’s pretty with auburn hair and a nose ring. She’s in her dress clothes still and is obviously putting Roman to bed before she goes back to rejoin the party.
“Come on, we have to move,” Brenden whispers.
I don’t want to. The path leads behind the bed and if we’re not totally silent, Lena really will hear us. I’m tempted to make him wait, but we’re running on a clock here. Someone will notice we’re gone and start asking questions sooner or later, and if they realize we’re not at the party but our car is still out front?—
I creep onwards, heart racing into my throat, as Lena continues her song.
Brenden stays close. He makes no sound and I feel like an oaf. The closer we get to Lena, the more I want to scream, until her voice is like she’s right here in the passageway with us. Fear clogs my throat, makes me want to gag, and the only thing that keeps me from losing my mind is Brenden’s touch in the darkness.
“I love you, little Romey,” Lena says, making kissing noises.
The little boy laughs. “You too, Mama.”
“Are you going to sleep good tonight, little love?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“That’s a good boy. You stay safe in here, right?”
“Mama?” Roman’s voice is tiny and adorable. He’s a nice kid. I’ve met him a few times. I bet he would’ve been fun to play with back when I was younger. “Are the mice back?”
Brenden’s hand grips my arm so hard it hurts. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.
“Why do you ask that, love?” Lena sounds like she’s no longer in bed, maybe a few feet away.
“I heard them.”
“Are you sure, darling? When was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it tonight? Last night?”
“Mama, are they gone?”
Brenden’s lips press to my ear. “Don’t move.”
I’m barely breathing. My heart’s a missile straight to my brain. It takes a lot of self-control not to start screaming.
“Don’t worry, little love, they’re all gone. Daddy had them taken care of, remember?”
“Okay, Mama.”
“Goodnight, darling.” More kissing noises then a door opens and closes.
We still don’t move. A ten count. Another ten count. Then Brenden nudges me and we start moving again.
I have no idea if Roman’s asleep or awake, but he doesn’t make any noise. We inch past his room and I don’t take a reasonable breath until I’m sure we’re away.
“Here.” Brenden’s whispering, but it sounds like explosions after the pure silence of the last two minutes. “I think we’re at a closet.” His fingers find cracks down toward the bottom of the path and he works a panel free. It’s not a big opening, barely enough to fit his shoulders, but he wriggles his way through.
I wait for him to give me the all clear before following. He’s right, we’re in the biggest walk-in closet I’ve ever seen. I emerge from between several pairs of adorable heels, clearly Lena’s stuff, and start rapidly brushing the cobwebs and the filth off my dress.
