by Robin Caroll
Approaching, one wouldn’t believe the acts of senseless violence that had occurred here. The house sat off the road about two hundred feet, hidden by large oak trees bordering the winding drive. Small crepe myrtle bushes decorated the area with bursts of pink, purple, and white. The overwhelming sweetness of honeysuckle filled the air.
The house itself was pretty basic: brick and siding, about nineteen hundred square feet, with a chimney jutting a few yards off the roof. Black shutters stood open at the windows on the front of the house, but Julian knew the floor-to-ceiling windows in the back of the house had no adornments on the outside, nothing to mar the view into the wooded backyard.
Had the two men approached from the woods in the back? By the time the police arrived, the first responders and ambulances had already run over any other identifying tire tracks in the driveway.
Brody parked the car. Julian stepped out and leaned against the hood, taking in the setting.
“What are you thinking?”
Julian opened the case file and summarized the timeline he’d created. “The coroner puts the time of Nina’s death between nine thirty and ten. The delivery driver made the 911 call at nine fifty-five.”
Staring off into space, Julian let his mind meander through the facts. “Taking into account Sophia’s statement that they broke in a little after eight, I’m going to theorize Nina died around nine
forty-five.” He stared at Brody. “They would need at least an hour to barge in and begin the assault. For Sophia to have lost consciousness once, come back, then lose it again . . . it couldn’t have happened quickly.” A ball in the pit of Julian’s stomach formed.
“According to her doctor and the coroner, the damage inflicted took at least forty minutes.”
Julian swallowed the acidic reaction on his tongue. Forty minutes. They’d been tortured, plain and simple. Merciless. Nina’s throat had finally been slit. Thankfully, they must have thought when Sophia lost consciousness the second time, she was dead. They’d moved on to search and destroy the house.
Brody continued his assessment. “So they kill Nina Montgomery at nine forty-five, then they searched the house for whatever they were looking for, assuming they didn’t get it from Nina.”
“Sophia said her mother didn’t tell them where it was at first. But once they started torturing Sophia, I think the implication is Nina started talking.”
Brody took the case file and flipped through it. “Sophia blacked out, so we don’t know for sure.” He handed the file back to Julian. “What if she gave it up? What if that’s why they slit her throat and left Sophia alone? They went and retrieved whatever it was, then left. They never checked back on Sophia, only assumed she was dead.”
Julian stared into the darkening woods. “Then how’d the house get so destroyed? If they got what they were looking for, why destroy the house? Why take the time, or worse yet, possibly leave some evidence of their identity?”
“True.”
“I’m guessing one of two theories. One, Nina told them where it was and they killed her, then went to retrieve whatever it was, only to discover she lied. They tore apart the house, but didn’t find it.”
Brody nodded. “Works. And your other theory?”
“Nina saw Sophia fall unconscious again, but she thought Sophia was dead, so she refused to tell them anything. In a rage for her not telling them, they sliced her throat, then checked the house.”
Brody did a slow three-sixty in front of the house. “Both of those theories could work, so the timeline would be Nina Montgomery was killed at nine forty-five.”
Julian opened the folder. “The 911 call came in from the delivery driver. He was delivering Sophia’s paperwork from her coach at the Olympic training center, and he had to get a signature. He rang the bell and got no answer. He knocked, then the door opened, and he saw Nina lying on the floor. He called it in at nine fifty-five.” He shut the folder and moved to where he could see around the side of the house. “If they were tearing apart the house to find whatever it was, and he interrupted them, why didn’t they just kill him? They’d already killed two people, why not kill the driver and keep searching the house?”
Brody shrugged. “Maybe they realized if he didn’t scan the package receipt immediately, it would signal a problem immediately.”
“So . . . it makes me wonder, how did they approach and leave?”
“What do you mean?” Brody asked.
“If the driver interrupted them, and he reports he didn’t see anybody moving, nor did he see any other vehicle in the drive aside from Nina’s, then where was their vehicle? If they had driven and parked in the drive, the delivery driver would have seen their car when he interrupted them and they ran off. But he didn’t. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Brody shook his head and climbed the stairs to the front door. “None of this makes sense, but I want to know what happened. Everything. Even the stuff that doesn’t make sense. I want the full picture.”
“Me, too.” Julian followed his partner into Nina Montgomery’s house. “Me, too.”
5
I just want to talk to my granddaughter.”
Sophia opened her eyes and looked at the door to her hospital room. The police officer had stopped Alena from entering.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but the last notification I received was that you were not to be admitted per the patient’s request.”
Alena must have made a face, because he added. “I’m sorry.”
“I must talk with her. I am ready to explain what happened.”
“I’m not supposed to disturb her. She’s supposed to be resting.”
“I need to tell her what happened.”
A long pause filled the air. Sophia wiggled her way until she was more reclining than lying down.
The policeman stepped into her room. “Ms. Montgomery, are you awake?” he whispered.
She nodded, waiting for him to get close enough to see her in the dim light of the wall lamp. She flashed him a smile.
“Um. Your grand—Ms. Alena Borin is outside and would like to talk to you for a moment. Is it okay?”
Without Charlie, Sophia had no way to communicate, but maybe it was for the best. Maybe it would be better if Alena could just stand there and tell her story. Sophia could always just shut her eyes and stop listening. Goodness knows the boredom of the afternoon had been enough to have Sophia climbing the walls. After the doctor’s rounds, Charlie had left, leaving Sophia alone and in silence.
Any conversation was better than none. Sophia nodded at the policeman.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She smiled, and nodded again.
“Okay. I’ll let her know she can only stay for a few minutes though, okay?”
She nodded a third time.
The policeman spun and returned to his post. Sophia took a moment to pray for the truth.
And for her own understanding.
“MIlaya Moyna, I am so happy you will see me.” Alena dropped her oversized purse on the floor, then pulled the chair up beside Sophia’s bed. “I am so sorry I was not able to tell you these stories earlier. There were too many people listening.”
Sophia gave a slow nod. Well, they were alone now.
Alena gripped the side of the bed rail. “Nina, your mother, meant everything to me. From the day she was born, I knew I would live for her.” Moisture glistened in her eyes. “When she first learned to walk, she did not just walk. She skol’zili across the floor. Such grace, even for a baby.”
Sophia struggled over the word, her mind going through the limited Russian her mother had spoken fluently, but only taught Sophia when pushed. Finally, she grasped it from the corners of her memory. Skol’zili translated to glide.
“Nina went from walking to dancing immediately. She was born with the talant. So gifted. So natural. Beautiful. Poised.”
Sophia’s heart raced. Mamochka had referred to Sophia’s gymnastic ability at a young age as the talant.
“
I got her best instructors. Enrolled her in Vaganova Ballet Academy in St. Petersburg, Russia. At four years old, they accepted her. Knew, like me, she was destined to dance.”
Just like Sophia’s destiny was to be a gymnast. Or, well, it had been. Grief curled its perverted fist into her chest, causing her breathing to hitch.
“My husband, Nina’s own otets, he come to complain of the cost. Said Nina’s dance lessons were too expensive. Demanded she go to closer academy.” Alena’s finely tweezed eyebrows crinkled into a frown. “No one had heard of the instructor. No major ballet company would take dancers from such a studio.”
Sophia’s own father had died soon after she’d been born. She had some early photographs with him holding her, beaming. She couldn’t imagine he’d deny her anything. But her father had been American, where daughters were their daddy’s little girls. Sophia again, as she had many times over the course of her life, regretted her father had died before she got to know him. All she had were the memories her mother had shared with her.
“He refused to pay, so I took Nina and left.”
It shocked Sophia back to Alena’s story. She’d left her husband because he’d refused to pay for Mamochka’s expensive dance lessons? That was just crazy. There had to be some sort of mis—
“It was a choice I made for my Nina. She needed the best chance. To see her dance was like watching bog breathe life.” Alena’s voice took on a dreamy tone that matched the faraway look in her eyes.
Sophia had seen her mother teach ballet for years and had grown up watching her dance on stage in recitals and local productions. She’d been amazing, but Sophia had never heard someone compare her mother’s dancing to God breathing life.
“I do everything to pay for her lessons. I quilted, selling them for high prices. They were good. I am good quilter. I cleaned the studio for extra lessons for Nina. I sewed costumes for the troupe. I went days without eating, so Nina could dance.”
Sophia thought of her mother in a new light. Had she known of the sacrifices Alena had made for her? Had given up willingly so she could follow her dreams? The quilting . . . Mamochka had quilted. She’d taught Sophia. It was something they did together. Often.
Alena’s admission made Sophia wonder. What sacrifices had Mamochka made for Sophia’s gymnastics that she didn’t know about? It didn’t matter now since she would never be a gymnast again.
“Nina was beautiful ballerina. As she matured as a dancer, she get more and more beautiful. Everyone says she is perfection en pointe.” Alena smiled, more to herself than at Sophia.
“She land the role of Little Radish in Cipollino. At eleven. Nobody ever dance Little Radish at eleven. The press fall in love with her. She looked like a princess and dance like a goddess. Everyone wanted her. Then, she get chance to attend Kirov Academy of Ballet. Finishing school there, the ballerinas can dance around the world, not just in Russia. It is great opportunity for my Nina, so I accept the offer and we move to United States.” Alena’s eyes widened then.
Sophia tried to imagine what it was like to sacrifice everything, even your own marriage, for your child’s dreams. Then to move to a strange country where you didn’t know anyone. She couldn’t begin to fathom how scary and hard it must have been. She begrudgingly looked at Alena with a bit more respect.
“We get settled in home in Washington D.C. Nina dances and dances and dances. Her dreams coming true. She looks beautiful on stage. When she is only twelve, she become a prima ballerina as the Sea Princess in The Little Humpbacked Horse.” The pride was obvious in Alena’s voice. “Everyone loves my Nina. Her best friend, Nadia, is competition, but knows Nina is best dancer.”
“After Nina graduates at seventeen from Kirov, she is welcomed to New York Ballet Company. Nadia goes with her, but not as principal dancer like Nina, but as Corps de Ballet. Nina’s first performance after joining, she dances the title role in Raymonda, and people take notice of her dancing. How she is best they have ever seen. They compare her to such prima ballerinas as Natalia Bessmertnova and Galina Ulanova.”
Sophia could see how. Her mother could dance. Sophia used to sit in the corner at the dance studio and watch Mamochka warm up before dance classes. Every movement she made was perfectly executed and in perfect time to the music.
“Nina prima ballerina in company performing in all the best productions. The biggest. She demands attention. Even from young men. I discourage most, but there is one who is fitting for her. Dimitri. From first day I meet him, I see Dimitri is in love with her. He is wealthy. He is ballet dancer, too, but not like Nina. Still, he will advance her career, so I try to keep the other young men away from her. She must concentrate on her dancing. Her career. I have given up everything for her success.” Alena’s voice wobbled a little.
Sophia could easily see how domineering Alena could be. Had Mamochka felt smothered? Or like she had missed out on a childhood? Sometimes, Sophia wondered if she’d done just the same thing herself. For as long as she could remember, she’d lived by a different set of rules. She’d eaten the healthiest of diets, all for strength and muscle building. While other girls in school were talking about the coolest fashions, Sophia got excited over her gym getting a new balance beam. When her teenage peers were getting ready for their first dance, Sophia was getting up at four in the morning to practice for three hours before showering and changing for school, then practicing for three or four more hours every afternoon.
It was a choice she’d made. Her mother hadn’t pressured her, but Mamochka hadn’t shown her another way of life, either.
Alena cleared her throat. “One of those boys was Lance. He was wrong for my Nina. He did not understand her dedication. Her determination. He could not appreciate her talent.” She snorted. “He was not even a dancer or in the dance world. Not like Dimitri.”
Her father. Sophia tilted her head.
“He sweep my Nina off her feet. I try to tell Nina to stay away from the American with the shiny eyes, but she not listen to me. He was a bad influence on her. I call Dimitri for help, to stop this romance, but it was too late. Nina disobeyed me. She snuck out to see him. This . . . this . . . voyennyy boy.”
Sophia shook her head. She didn’t recognize the Russian term. What kind of boy? She shook her head faster.
Alena paused, understood. She opened her mouth, then shut it. Then she tried again. “Service.” She held up her hands and made a mock gun and shooting gesture. “Uniform.”
Ah. Military. Her father had been in the Air Force. Sophia nodded.
“Nina think she love this Lance. I try to tell her it is not real love. It is only infatuation. I ask her to consider Dimitri, but she keep seeing her Lance, even when I forbade her to see him anymore.”
Sophia smiled softly. As a child, she’d begged her mother to tell her the story of how she met her father. Over and over. Mamochka said it was love at first sight. She’d seen Sophia’s father in the audience at a performance, looking handsome in his Air Force uniform, and her heart had danced to live in Lance Montgomery’s hands. Sophia had always thought that was so utterly romantic.
“He would not go away, and Nina became more and more difficult. I hire her a new manager, who agrees with me this Lance needs to go. Dimitri comes to see her, tries to tell her he loves her, but understands Nina needs to concentrate on her dancing. With the new manager help, we move.” Alena shook her head, staring off into space as if she’d forgotten where she was entirely. “Dimitri is devastated, his heart broken.”
“We move, and not tell this boy where we move to. Nina was distraught, but she continued to dance. Nadia stays with Nina more and more, hoping to cheer up Nina. My Nina . . . her dancing becomes more emotional. More powerful. She put her sadness into her dance, and she could demand whatever she want for a performance.”
Sophia’s heart ached for the young woman her mother had been. In love, but taken away. She’d thrown her passion into her dancing. Sophia understood only too well. The one guy she’d liked, who she thought
could’ve been the one, had been a disappointment and wanted to rush things between them. When she wouldn’t be pushed, he dumped her. Afterward, Sophia had thrown herself into gymnastics with a renewed vengeance. She’d done some of her best uneven bars work after the breakup.
“But it was too late. A month later, Nina got so sick she threw up during a performance. She was rushed to the hospital, where they tell her she is pregnant.”
Now this was news. Mamochka never mentioned she’d gotten pregnant before she was married. Forgetting her face was still swollen, Sophia frowned. The sharp pain reminded her.
“Da, MIlaya Moyna, she found out she was pregnant with you. I swore Nadia to secrecy and fired new manager.”
Even if she could speak, Sophia wouldn’t have been able to say anything. Mamochka had said she’d gotten pregnant almost immediately after getting married. To now find out she’d gotten pregnant before she was married . . .
“I am sorry to admit, but I told Nina to get rid of the baby. Having it would ruin her career and she would never dance again. Not as a prima ballerina.” Alena’s face turned red. “I am not proud to tell you this, but this is truth. This is what I said to my daughter.”
Alena wanted Mamochka to . . . to . . . abort her? Sophia felt sick to her stomach, even though she hadn’t had food to eat since she’d come into the hospital.
“Please understand, MIlaya Moyna, I had sacrificed everything for my Nina. So she could be the prima ballerina she was born to be. She had opportunities. We could go anywhere, do anything. She was just eighteen. Barely eighteen, and she had made a mistake. I am sorry, but she did.”
Sophia shook her head, screaming in silence for Alena to stop! Just stop!
But Alena couldn’t hear the cries. “I am sorry, but this is truth of how I felt. I see my Nina about to throw away her career, her life. I tell her this, but she refuse. She find this Lance and contacts him. He comes and takes my Nina away. To here.”
Sophia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her own grandmother wanted her aborted! It was inconceivable.
