Vanishing Act

by Linsey Lanier

  As usual, Mr. P was dressed in a charcoal gray business suit and deep red Ascot, looking every bit of the real estate tycoon he was. And yet there was distress in his blue eyes.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” he said in his rich Southern accent.

  Parker started for the bar. “We were just having a nightcap, Father. Would you like one?”

  “No. I need to get back. I told Tatiana I was just stepping out for some air.” He ran a hand over his gleaming pure white hair.

  “What’s wrong, Mr. P?” Miranda said.

  He smiled at her as if he welcomed her perception. Then he sat down on the couch across from her. “The thing is...”

  Miranda stiffened. “This isn’t about the loan, is it?”

  “The loan?”

  “You know.” She waved a hand in the air. “The thing you set up for us. For Becker and Fanuzzi?”

  Her best friend and dearest coworker were having a baby and were tight on money, so Miranda and Parker had agreed to pay off their mortgage. But they also agreed to keep it a secret. A few months ago, Mr. P had made it all happen with what Miranda called his “magic trust.” She hoped she’d never have to tell her friend about it. Fanuzzi wouldn’t like being treated like a charity case.

  “Oh. You mean the trust. No, no. Neither of them suspects anything. They’re making their payments on time and the money is going into the fund. Earning a very nice interest, too, I must say.”

  Miranda relaxed. “Okay. Then what?”

  He shook his head. “This is more personal.” Mr. P eyed Parker’s drink as if he were changing his mind about having one.

  “You can tell us.” She hoped he wasn’t going to say he’d murdered someone.

  Parker set a drink on the table before his father, even though he’d refused it.

  Mr. P reached for it, took a stiff swallow, sat back and braced himself with the arm of the sofa. At last his tongue loosened. “You remember I took Tatty back to her homeland for the holidays?”

  “To Ukraine.”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t it go well with the in-laws?”

  “Oh, it was spectacular. We had a great time in her little village. Tatiana’s family was warm and welcoming. And the food. It could rival some of Chef Basardi’s creations. There was a feast every night and stories and music.”

  Miranda smiled at how domestic it all sounded. After Parker’s mother passed away when he was a boy, Parker’s father had become a notorious ladies man. That was, until the voluptuous beauty from Eastern Europe had come along and tamed him.

  “So what’s the problem?” she asked.

  “Since we got back to Atlanta, Tatty and I have been video conferencing with her family over the Internet.”

  “Okay.” That didn’t sound so bad. Unless Tatiana decided she wanted to go back home.

  “Our conversations are friendly, just as when we were there. Tatty translates for me, of course. But I—”

  “Out with it, Father.” Parker was getting impatient.

  Mr. P’s face turned grave. “I always sensed something was wrong. Actually I sensed it when we were there, too. A family secret hidden in the background, something they couldn’t quite forget about, so to speak.”

  Family secret? “Do you know what it was?”

  Mr. P nodded. “Two days ago, I confronted Tatiana with what I’ve been feeling, and she confessed.”

  Oh, no. She had committed murder. “What did she tell you, Mr. P?”

  “She has a brother.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  He shook his head again. “He disappeared.”

  “When?”

  “A long time ago. When he was young.”

  “How young?”

  “In his late teens, I believe. Apparently the brother and Tatty’s father didn’t get along. One day there was a huge fight. The young man packed his bags and left home.” Mr. P gave Parker a sheepish look.

  His own son had done the same thing at that age.

  Parker drew in a slow breath. “That doesn’t seem to be unusual behavior for someone of that age.”

  “But it is. They never heard from him again. No one has seen him since he left. The family tried to track him down, but couldn’t find him anywhere.”

  Miranda sat forward. “He’s never tried to contact anyone in his family?”

  “No. There hasn’t been a word.”

  “So the family suspects foul play.”

  Mr. P raised his palms. “No one knows.”

  “That’s too bad.” Miranda hadn’t known there was such sorrow in Tatiana’s past. She liked the woman.

  “The family grieves over that young man. They need closure.” He looked up at Parker with pleading eyes.

  “I’m sorry for them,” Parker said.

  “I promised Tatty I would do all I could to find her brother.”

  Slowly Parker lifted a brow. “And how do you hope to fulfill that promise?”

  Mr. P set down his drink and spread his hands. “Isn’t it obvious? I have a son who’s one of the best private investigator in the country.”

  “In this country,” Parker corrected.

  “You’ve been overseas before. Both of you have.”

  Not for awhile. And they had both nearly been killed there. But Miranda could relate to losing a loved one. “What do you want us to do, Mr. P?”

  “Investigate, of course.”

  Parker’s reply was terse. “That would be difficult to do from Atlanta.”

  “That’s why you have to go there.”

  “To Ukraine?”

  “Of course.” He drew something out of his coat pocket. “I purchased two first class tickets for you. You leave tomorrow afternoon.”

  Parker scowled at the tickets. “You can’t be serious, Father.”

  “It’s for Tatiana, son.”

  Mr. P loved his new wife dearly.

  She watched Parker’s jaw stiffen. Ignoring it, she turned to her father-in-law. “What’s the young man’s name?”

  “They call him Sasha. Sasha Pavlovych.”

  “Pavlovych is Tatiana’s surname?” Miranda said.

  “No. Her name is Pavlova. Because she’s female. And they call it a patronymic name.” Mr. P waved his hands. “It’s a Ukrainain thing. Complicated.”

  Okay. “When did he disappear?”

  “Fourteen years ago.”

  She let out a slow breath. “So he’s what now? Thirty-two? Thirty-three?”

  “I believe so. It’s hard to understand everything the family says.”

  Parker drained his glass and got to his feet. “Really, Father. How can you expect us to go halfway around the world to find someone who’s been gone for almost a decade and a half?”

  “Because you’re the best. You and Miranda are. If anyone can find him, you two can.” He rose as well, stepped around the table, and pressed the tickets into Parker’s hand. “Please, son. I’ll pay your fee. Double your fee.”

  Miranda watched Parker wrestle with himself. So much for retiring.

  Parker put the tickets down on the table. “We’ll think about it. I’ll let you know before the flight leaves so you can get an exchange if we decline.”

  Mr. P studied his son for a long moment, then straightened his coat. “Very well, son. I must get back to Tatiana before she suspects I’ve been up to something. I didn’t tell her about this. I don’t want to disappoint her. I’ll let myself out.”

  And with that, he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

  After the door closed, Miranda picked up the tickets. They were for an international flight departing at two-thirty tomorrow afternoon. “We could give it a shot.”

  Parker scowled. “It’s just not the right time, Miranda.”

  “You’re right.” She tossed the tickets down on the table. “What can we do in a place where we don’t speak the language and have such little information?”

  Parker gazed into his lovely wife’s deep blue ey
es and understood perfectly what was going on in that sharp mind of hers. She was challenging him. Testing his self-confidence. Testing his sense of justice.

  And he knew why.

  She was well acquainted with what it felt like to grieve over the loss of a loved one for a very long time. She knew what it was like to endlessly wonder what happened to them, if you would ever see them again. It was what she’d gone through with her own daughter.

  She’d never let this rest. And yet, it was that inexorable spirit of hers that had always drawn him to her. They were still kindred spirits. Defenders of the defenseless. Protectors of the innocent. And because they were, he felt himself relent.

  He took her into his arms and held her close. “Are you sure you want to do this, Miranda?”

  Miranda drew in Parker’s masculine scent and relished the strength of his embrace. She wasn’t any surer about this venture than he was, but she forced a laugh. “What’s a little jaunt across the ocean?”

  They both knew it could turn out to be a lot more than that. But they had to go.

  “The team?”

  Miranda frowned. It had been expensive enough dragging her entire team across country a month ago. She didn’t want Mr. P to pay those travel expenses.

  “Let’s do this one ourselves. We can pretend it’s a second honeymoon.”

  Parker’s expression remained unchanged. “Very well, then. Let’s start packing.”

  Chapter Three

  After checking in bags heavy with winter clothes the next afternoon Miranda and Parker boarded their plane.

  Nine hours to Amsterdam, a three and a half hour layover, three more hours to Boryspil International Airport, and they were in Kiev.

  And it was the next day.

  As they made their way through the long silver terminals, through passport check and baggage claim, Miranda took in the strange sounding languages around her and the odd lettering in the signs on the walls.

  “Is that—Cyrillic?” she muttered under her breath.

  Parker followed her gaze. “A script developed in the ninth century by Byzantine theologians. It’s what Ukrainian is written in, yes.”

  She hadn’t thought about that when Mr. P gave them the tickets. Suddenly she felt like she had landed on Mars.

  They stopped at a currency exchange kiosk, then headed for the car rental booths where Parker got a spiffy looking black BMW 5 Series. As the car pulled up, they stepped out into near-frigid air. Parker tipped a valet after he’d loaded the bags, they climbed in, and took off.

  The trees were bare, the fields snow-covered, the sky hazy. A typical East European winter day, she supposed.

  Miranda glanced at the temperature on the dash. “Minus four degrees? I didn’t think we were going to Siberia.”

  Parker’s lip curved. “That’s Celsius. It’s actually about twenty-five.”

  Something else to adjust to. And the speedometer was in kilometers. She rubbed her arms. “Still pretty chilly.”

  Parker reached for the control to turn up the heat. “We may have to go shopping for warmer coats when we get to the hotel. We’ll be there in about half an hour.”

  She could just imagine what kind of hotel he had selected. This was starting to feel more like a vacation than a case.

  Deciding to enjoy the excursion, she sat back and took in the sights.

  Like most other airport roads, billboards sprang up here and there along the tree-lined avenue. In her case they didn’t do much good. Miranda couldn’t read them. One was for a car, but she couldn’t make out even what was being advertised on another, except that it was twenty percent off.

  After about twenty minutes they reached the outskirts of the city. Here tall gray buildings stood spread out in rows while more billboards greeted them. Lots of Ks and Ys in these, she noted.

  They passed more shabby gray buildings then took a long bridge over a river.

  Here the landscape turned more colorful and modern. Five- and six-story apartment structures in red brick, shops, a small park or two. Then Parker turned onto a wide cobblestone street and suddenly she thought she was in Paris or London.

  No, not with the onion-dome cupolas and splashes of gold over intricate Old World architecture looming in the distance. The sight made her flashback to her childhood. Suddenly she was thinking of “Peter and the Wolf” and stories of a Russian princess her father used to tell her.

  Lining the avenue were colorful buildings in light blues, pale greens, and peach with white columns and turrets and arches and quaint balconies. The shops looked upscale, though she still couldn’t read the signs. On the sidewalks, people bundled in heavy coats hurried along with packages tucked under their arms.

  Finally they reached the hotel, which was one of Parker’s five-star selections and looked like a palace belonging to some long-ago tsar. The marble lobby was filled with antiques and chandeliers and flowers.

  At a curving mahogany counter, a uniformed young woman in a white shirt and dark skirt checked them in and called for a valet to take their luggage.

  She even spoke English.

  The room, of course, was a suite. There was a sitting room with low back chairs featuring rolling armrests and a fancy gold trim. The upholstery was a rich, dark red-and-blue paisley that looked very Russian. Against a nearby wall stood an ivory fireplace with a gilded mirror over it. A large expensive-looking Oriental urn filled a nearby corner.

  She went into the bedroom.

  The bed was covered with a dark blue quilt in an intricate brocade. It was large and looked inviting after the long journey.

  Miranda peeked into the huge bathroom and saw marble and glass and gold fixtures. Turning, she shook her head at her handsome husband. “You didn’t have to go all out.”

  “My father insisted.”

  “Sounds like him.” But she knew Parker didn’t protest much.

  “It’s fitting for a second honeymoon,” he said as he loosened his tie.

  She flopped down onto a settee near the bed and stretched. “So what’s the plan?”

  She knew he’d been texting with Mr. P since they left Atlanta. However long ago that was.

  “Father’s been in contact with Tatiana’s family. They’re expecting us for dinner tonight.”

  “They don’t have to go to the trouble of feeding us. It’s not like we’re their guests.”

  “Apparently, they believe otherwise.”

  She reached for her phone. “What time is it again?”

  “Almost three.”

  “In the afternoon?”

  “Yes.” He reached for her hand. “There’s time for a nap before we have to leave.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Her eyes drooping, she let him lift her to her feet and lead her to the bed.

  Hmm. Maybe they could get in a little “exercise” before their nap.

  Chapter Four

  Miranda awoke with her arms and legs wrapped around Parker, longing to remain there.

  His lovemaking had been so wonderful and satisfying, she hadn’t dreamt at all. Just fallen into a soft snug cloud of contentment.

  But soon he moved beneath her and came to life. With a smile as warm as a cozy fire, he pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Did you sleep well, my darling?”

  She waggled her brows at him. “After your ‘lullaby,’ how could I not?”

  His smile turned wicked and he drew her close for a sultry kiss. Then he glanced at the clock and checked himself. “It’s too bad there’s no time for an encore.”

  “Hold that thought for tonight.” If this jaunt across the ocean did turn out to be a second honeymoon, she’d make it worth the trip.

  She gave him a quick kiss, climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom and a quick shower.

  She was out and blow drying her hair in no time.

  Wondering what she was going to say to Tatiana’s family tonight, she plodded to the closet and picked out jeans and a pale blue long sleeve blouse. “Is this good enough?�
��

  “It should be fine, but you need to look in the other room,” Parker said, pulling on a pinstripe shirt to go with his black designer jeans.

  “Oh?”

  She trotted through the door and smiled at what she found draped over the settee. A deep red cable-knit sweater, a matching scarf, leather gloves, and a fur lined goose-down parka. She’d be warm tonight.

  “Now this should keep the glow you started going.” She ran to Parker as he entered the room and gave him a kiss. “When did you get all this?”

  “My secret,” he grinned.

  Okay, she’d let him keep it. But she was guessing there must be a designer shop in the hotel somewhere, and he’d sneaked off to it while she was asleep.

  She spotted a bottle of wine on the table. “You’ve been shopping for more than clothes.”

  “It’s for our hosts. It’s considered impolite not to bring a gift when you visit someone’s home in this country.”

  Miranda didn’t know how Parker knew that, but she knew he’d never stand for being considered impolite.

  “It’s about business,” she reminded him.

  “Nonetheless.”

  As she pulled on the sweater and donned the luxuriously thick coat, she saw he had something else up his sleeve.

  Or rather in his hand. It was a white fur hat with what looked like earmuffs sewed on either side. They were flaps.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “One of those Russian hats?” She’d seen them on TV occasionally.

  “It’s called a ushanka. Would you like to try it?” He held it up.

  Ushanka, huh? She’d look like a bunny rabbit in it, though she usually didn’t care about looks.

  She glanced out the window. The sky was dark and there was snow on the surrounding rooftops. “What’s the temperature now?”

  “Minus ten. Fourteen degrees Fahrenheit.”

  “Let me have that.” She’d been living in the sunny South too long.

  Watching Parker don the black version of the ushanka he’d bought for himself, she shoved her feet into a pair of knee-high boots and grinned at Parker.