Hidden in the Stars

by Robin Caroll

  How long was this process supposed to take? Sophia decided to keep her mind occupied. Concentrate on something else. She could count. One . . .

  Another inch of tube crept out. Heat rushed to Sophia’s face.

  Two . . .

  How long was the tube anyway?

  Three . . .

  Was it to the top of the esophagus yet? She curled her toes as she kept her eyes clamped tight, denying the tears threatening to escape.

  Four . . .

  Sweet Lord, please give me strength.

  Five . . .

  The nurse stopped tugging. “Okay. We’re at the top of the esophagus. Take a minute to rest your throat. Keep breathing through your mouth as you can. You’re doing great.”

  Doing great, huh? Sophia swallowed. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as she’d thought. She’d expected the pain to be excruciating. Maybe, just maybe, she could handle this after all.

  The nurse smiled at her. “Are you ready?”

  How was she supposed to answer? How could she be ready for something she didn’t know what to expect?

  “We’ll move much faster this time as I pull the tube through your oropharynx and out through your nose,” the nurse continued. “This may stimulate your gag reflex, but only temporarily until the tube is out.” She patted Sophia’s shoulder. “Ready?”

  No time like the present. Sophia nodded.

  The nurse pulled and Sophia could have sworn she saw stars just before she wanted to throw up.

  “You did great.” The nurse wound the tube and stuck it in a bag. “You just rest a bit. I’m going to get things straightened up, then we’ll get the catheter out. I’ll rewrap your hands so you’ll be able to slip on gloves to protect the gauze to use the restroom.”

  Oh, joy.

  8

  Sophia turned her head to look as Julian walked into her hospital room. “Hi, Sophia.” He nodded at Charlie.

  “Hi, Detective Frazier,” Sophia mouthed and Charlie said.

  “You’re looking much better this afternoon.” And she did. The tube was gone from her nose and she looked more aware. More focused.

  “Thanks. I’m doing better. The doctor’s even going to let me get up and walk around the room later this afternoon.”

  “Awesome.” Julian set his folder on her bedside table and pulled a chair closer to the side of her bed. “Hey, Charlie. Thanks for staying.”

  “No problem,” Charlie smiled at him. “Sophia and I were able to listen to the podcast of my church’s services from this morning.”

  It seemed all of a sudden, he was surrounded by Christians. He looked back at Sophia. “Well . . . good.”

  “Do you have a lead?” Charlie asked for Sophia.

  He shook his head. “Just double-checking every detail we can and following every lead.” He grabbed his folder and opened it. “I wanted to ask you something.” He held up an article in the Arkansas state paper with the interview and photo of her a week ago. “Do you remember this?”

  She nodded.

  He pointed to the tapestry hanging over the mantle. “Can you tell me what this is?”

  “It’s Mamochka’s quilt. Made from her dance costumes.” Her eyes grew wider, looking enormous against her still swollen and bruised face. It led to her appearance of fragility. “Did you find it?”

  The black-and-white newspaper photograph didn’t give enough detail. Too grainy. “We’ve looked and can’t find it. We’re checking the evidence boxes now.”

  “That’s because Mamochka put it up for safekeeping after the picture was printed.”

  A quilt put away for safety’s sake after a photograph being in the paper? “I’m not sure I understand, Sophia.”

  “I conducted the interview while my mother was out. She knew I was giving the interview, but didn’t realize they’d take photographs of me until she saw the paper.” Sophia blinked, staring at the paper for a long moment before returning her focus to him. “I remember when she saw the paper. She was furious. So angry.”

  “Why?” He couldn’t understand what would make Nina so angry.

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. She took the quilt off its hanger and hid it in her closet.”

  “She hid it in her closet?”

  Sophia nodded. “My mother . . . well, Mamochka could be a little odd at times. She often hid things of sentimental value.”

  “I’m guessing a quilt would only be worth sentimental value.”

  “You’d be wrong.” Charlie shook her head. “Sorry, that’s me talking, not Sophia.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have a friend who collects quilts, and some of the old ones can be worth quite a bit of money. One sold several years ago for over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars at auction.”

  “Two hundred and—” Julian shook his head. “You’re messing with me.”

  “No, I’m serious. It was a quilt from the Civil War era, but some other quilts are worth quite a bit of money.”

  He had no idea.

  “Did you know there’s even an International Quilt Study Center housed at the University of Nebraska?” Charlie asked. “There are even such professions as quilt appraisers.”

  Learned something new every day. He looked at Sophia. “Was your mother’s quilt old?”

  “Not terribly. I don’t think Mamochka’s quilt was valuable to others. It was made from her ballet costumes.” Sophia smiled sadly, as Charlie spoke for her. “She even let me quilt some of the pieces with her when I was younger. As we worked, she’d tell me about her performance wearing each of the costumes.”

  Julian’s cell phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID: Brody. “Excuse me a moment, please. I need to take this.” He stepped out into the hall. “Whatcha got?”

  “Talked with the neighbors again. Nobody heard anything like a scooter or golf cart just prior to the attack. But one of the neighbors is still out of town until tomorrow.”

  “So, another dead end?”

  “We’ll keep checking. Also, just heard from the uni in evidence. No sign of the tapestry.”

  “I’m at the hospital with Sophia now. It’s a quilt.”

  “I’ll double-check with evidence on it. Do you think it’s what they were after?”

  Sophia didn’t think her mother’s quilt was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, which was probably true, but who knew how valuable a quilt made by one of Russia’s former prima ballerinas with costume materials could be. Could be worth enough for motive. “Maybe. Sophia says Nina took it off the wall and hid it in her bedroom closet after the newspaper picture.”

  “I’m still in the neighborhood so I can head over to the house and look for it. Can you ask Sophia if she has any idea of where in Nina’s bedroom it might be?”

  “Sure. Hang on.” Julian stepped back into Sophia’s room where she and Charlie were smiling. “Sophia, do you know where your mother hid things in her closet?”

  Sophia nodded and Charlie spoke what she mouthed. “On the right hand side of the closet, near the end, but not at the end, there are two hangers, each with large, bulky sweaters. Mamochka hung things on the hangers under those sweaters.”

  “Thanks.” Julian relayed the information to Brody.

  “Got it. On my way now. If I find it, I’ll bring it in for testing.”

  Julian glanced at Sophia’s eyes. They held such an expression of hope and grief, both at the same time. It was unnerving what she did to him so effortlessly. “If you do, put a rush on forensics.” The least he could do was get something so sentimental to Sophia back as quickly as possible. It might help ease her grief.

  “You got it.” Brody, in his usual fashion, hung up.

  Replacing his cell to the holder on his hip, Julian moved back to Sophia’s bedside. “What else can you tell me about the quilt?”

  “Well, it’s a Hidden Star pattern around the border, with the centerpiece being almost the full bodice of one costume: the Sugar Plum Fairy from the Nutcracker.
Each of the squares on the border are all pieces from her costumes.”

  “Costumes from what dances, if you know?”

  “Let’s see, she danced as the title role in Cinderella—the Rostislav Zakharov choreographed version, she was Kitri in Don Quixote, she was the Lilac Fairy in La Belle au Bois Dormant, also known as The Sleeping Beauty ballet, and she was Nikiya in Petipa’s La Bayadère, commonly called The Temple Dancer.”

  Julian wrote as Charlie spoke for Sophia, whose eyes were closed, yet her face wore the most peaceful expression. He tightened his hold on his pencil, keeping his hands on task to stop them from reaching out and smoothing the lock of hair curling around her cheekbone. Despite the careful stitching on the cut atop the cheekbone, there’d most likely still be a scar. It’d be slight, and kinda sexy, actually, if he didn’t know what caused the blemish on her perfect skin.

  No! He needed to concentrate. All this talk of ballet seemed to be doing a number on his fanciful imagination. “What else?”

  “She also danced the title role in Giselle. It was one of her best performances, at least that’s what she always said.” Sophia opened her eyes. “She danced as Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, danced the role of Swanilda in Coppélia, and was the Black Swan in Swan Lake.”

  Julian wasn’t a ballet watcher, not by any standards, but even he recognized the names of the some of the most famous ballets in the world, and that Nina Borin had the lead and title roles in many of them, well, it spoke volumes about how truly talented of a dancer she’d been.

  He could almost—almost, but not quite, understand why Alena hadn’t wanted her daughter to throw away her career, even for a child.

  With those famous roles, maybe the quilt was worth more than Sophia assumed.

  “There are many more, but without seeing the quilt, I can’t remember.”

  He patted her shoulder. “No, this is great. Just what I needed.” Had he just said that out loud? “We. What we needed.” He should never touch her again. Made his mind jumble.

  Charlie’s stare locked onto him. Heat marched up the back of his neck.

  A nurse pushed open the door. “Are you about ready to get up and walk around for a bit?”

  Sophia smiled and nodded.

  “Oh, yes,” Charlie said for her.

  Julian grabbed his folder. “I’ll get out of here and give you some privacy.”

  “Will you let me know if you find the quilt?”

  “I will. If Brody finds it, I’ll let you know.”

  Charlie shot him a knowing look as he turned to go. He’d have to answer for his slip later. Much later, if he could manage it.

  * * *

  After her years and years of physical exertion and strength endurance training, who knew making one little lap around a small hospital room could wear her completely out?

  Now back in her bed, Sophia relaxed in the solitude. Her stomach growled and she smiled to herself. She’d worked up an appetite. The nurse had promised to bring her some chicken broth and gelatin for dinner. Sophia was excited about getting to have food, even if it was only liquids, to actually taste something again. However, she hated to be at the mercy of others to feed her. At least, getting up and being able to walk a little made her feel like she’d regained a bit of her independence back.

  Along the same vein, she knew she needed to find a way to get in touch with Coach Douglas. Soon. He needed to contact her alternate and get her to the gym in Huntsville, so she could start training with the rest of the team.

  Grief as real as what she felt over losing Mamochka filled her with such despair. She’d trained and sacrificed all her life to make the Olympic team, to go for the gold. She’d worked hard and foregone a regular life, and she’d achieved the main step toward her goal—making the team. It’d been almost eighteen years of preparation, dedication, blood, sweat, and tears to get this far. And now? Well . . . now she had nothing.

  No career. No mother. Nothing.

  She’d even skipped college to focus on her gymnastics training. Sophia had nothing to fall back on. No home. No family. In preparation for the Olympic training, she’d even released her apartment back in Plano, so she didn’t even have a place to live. There was no way she’d go back to her mother’s. Not after what happened.

  Nothing.

  The door eased open and Detective Julian Frazier stuck his head into the room. “May I come in?”

  She nodded. It was wrong how Sophia’s heart hiccupped over his presence, but she blushed anyway. Good thing her face was still swollen so he couldn’t detect the blushing.

  At least she hoped not.

  He stood beside her bed. “It’s a little harder without Charlie here, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. The constant humming of the humidifier filled the awkward silence. Maybe she could try to talk. No, Dr. Rhoads had told her not to even try until Tuesday or she could permanently damage her vocal chords. Just being unable to speak these past three days had convinced Sophia she’d do whatever the doctor told her to protect her ability to speak.

  “I just wanted you to know Brody found the quilt in your mother’s closet. Forensics is going over it now, but as soon as they’re done, I’ll release it back to you.” He smiled and warmth fanned out from her chest. “I know it’s important to you for sentimental value.”

  “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Her nurse came in, carrying a syringe. “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to slip your medication in your IV and check your stats. I’ll be in and out in a jiffy.” She did just that, smiled at Sophia, then rushed out.

  An awkward silence hung in the air.

  Julian straightened. “My officer outside tells me they’ll be moving you out of the critical care unit.”

  She nodded. Dr. Rhoads had come by when she was up walking and had decided she could be moved to a regular room tomorrow. And he’d told her the hand surgeon should be by to see her tomorrow morning as well. Big day for her.

  “I don’t want you to worry. We’ll be keeping a uniformed officer posted outside your door whatever floor you’re on, okay?”

  She smiled. His concern for her safety and well-being was probably just part of his job since she was his only witness to his case, but it made her feel protected. Safe.

  One of the hospital workers came into the room, carrying a tray. “Here’s your broth and gelatin, as ordered.” She set the tray on the adjustable table. “We’re a little shorthanded right now, so I’m glad you have someone here to feed you. Otherwise, you’d have to wait a good bit.” And before Sophia could think of a way to protest, the worker was gone.

  “Um.” Julian looked as uncomfortable as Sophia felt.

  She shook her head.

  “You aren’t hungry?”

  She shrugged, unable to lie. How could she tell him it would be mortifying for him to feed her?

  Her stomach picked just then to growl again. Loudly.

  Julian chuckled. “Guess that’s one way to answer.” He lifted the lid off the pink tray to reveal a large covered cup and a small bowl of red gelatin. “Oh, yummy.” He pulled off the cover of the large cup and steam wafted into the air.

  The smell wrapped around Sophia’s senses and her stomach rumbled again in reply.

  Julian laughed again. “Okay, okay. I’m hurrying.” He glanced around the room, then grabbed the clean hand towel by the sink. He gently laid it over her chest, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I’m not experienced in feeding someone else, so I want to make sure anything I spill on you won’t burn you.”

  Yep, she was beyond horrified at the moment, but what could she do? She was hungry—starving—and her stomach had announced the fact. Twice. She couldn’t very well lie and say she didn’t want anything. Her mouth watered at the aroma filling her nostrils. She’d never imagined chicken broth could be so appetizing. Right now, it smelled just as good as a fat, juicy T-bone grilled to perfection.

  Her stomach grumbled again.

  Julian grabbed
the plastic spoon and lifted the large cup. “Okay, I’m going to do my best to get more of this in you than on you, but understand I’m probably not too good at this.”

  She smiled, nodding.

  He leaned closer, close enough she could detect the subtle undertones of men’s aftershave. Spicy and alluring.

  Sophia gave herself a strong, mental shake. Could her humiliation get any worse? She needed to keep her mind off the detective’s appeal and on the reason for his being here—he was working her mother’s murder.

  The thought sobered her right up.

  Julian dipped the spoon into the broth, then lifted it out. Steam shimmered above the spoon. Ever so gently, he blew on the broth in the spoon, before moving it slowly to her mouth.

  Her heart pounding for inexplicable reasons, Sophia parted her lips and let him ease the broth between her swollen lips, his eyes never leaving her mouth.

  At first, the hot broth burnt going down her throat, and she could feel it going all the way down into her stomach. But it was good. Her tastebuds sat up at attention. Her stomach demanded more, rumbling loudly.

  Julian dropped his gaze to the bowl. “Guess you answered my unasked question of whether it’s any good.” Under the golden hue of his skin, a reddish blush filled his face.

  Was he embarrassed, or . . . ? Could he be feeling the same unexplained attraction she didn’t want to admit she felt?

  “Here.” He lifted the spoon to her mouth again. This time, the broth didn’t burn at all. To be a liquid, it felt filling. Felt good. It was almost as if she could feel herself getting stronger.

  “I guess I could talk to you about the case while you eat, huh?” Julian kept feeding her, blowing the broth with each spoonful so it wouldn’t be too hot.

  His attention warmed her as quickly and thoroughly as the broth.

  “As I said, Brody found the quilt. He also found some other things under those sweaters. An Air Force uniform for one.”

  Sophia’s heart clenched. She’d seen her father’s uniform only a handful of times in her life, but each time, Mamochka had been in the privacy of her bedroom, clutching it to her chest and crying. Sophia had never made her presence known, even at a young age, realizing she’d be intruding on a private and personal moment.