Almost Dead Read online

  A dark memory surfaced of herself, hiding under the bed late at night, listening to heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and the fumbling at her door. Jacqui had saved her. She’d screamed so loud that the neighbors had come running, and the man had sneaked back down the stairs. Cassie remembered the terror she’d felt as she’d heard him rattle the bedroom door. Jacqui had been her protector, until she’d run away.

  “After she left, I moved out, and then my dad got evicted and had to find different lodgings. I got a new phone. He got a new phone. There was no way for her to contact us again. Now I think she’s trying to reach out. But she’s scared, and I don’t know why. Perhaps she thinks I’ll be angry because she ran away.”

  Vadim shook his head.

  “So you are all alone in the world?”

  Cassie nodded, feeling sad all over again.

  “Can I buy you a glass of wine?”

  Cassie shook her head.

  “Thanks so much, but I have to drive.”

  Her car was a forty-five-minute walk away. From there, she had no idea where to go. She’d made no plans for accommodations. She’d been hoping to arrive earlier, and that the shop would provide a clue to Jacqui’s whereabouts, and she could then take the next step in her search. Now it was dark, and she had no idea where an affordable inn or hostel might be. She realized she might end up sleeping in her car, in the concrete parking garage.

  “Have you accommodations for tonight?” Vadim asked, as if reading her mind.

  Cassie shook her head.

  “I still have to figure that out.”

  “There is a backpacker lodge close by. A pensione, as they say here in Italy. It might be convenient for you. I pass it on my way home; I can show you where it is.”

  Cassie smiled tentatively, worried about the price and also the fact that all her luggage was still in her car. Even so, accommodations nearby sounded more appealing than the long walk back to the parking lot. There was even a chance Jacqui might have stayed in those lodgings, in which case she should at least check it out.

  She drained her coffee and ate the last crumbs of her panini, while Vadim finished his wine and sent some messages on his phone.

  “Come with me. This way.”

  It was still raining outside, but Vadim opened a big umbrella and Cassie walked close beside him, grateful for its shelter. Clearly in a hurry, he marched along so that she had to rush to keep pace with him. She was glad they weren’t dawdling, but at the same time she wondered if this guesthouse was out of his way and if he was making a detour in order to help her.

  She caught glimpses of the surrounding buildings as they passed, trying to get an impression of where they were. Names of restaurants, stores, and businesses glowed and flashed in the misty drizzle; the unfamiliar language made Cassie feel as if her senses were overloaded.

  They crossed a street and she realized that the traffic had died down. Although she hadn’t checked the time for a while, she thought it must be well after seven p.m. She felt exhausted, and wondered how far away the backpackers’ lodge was, and what she would do if they had no space available.

  The sign on their right was a supermarket, she was sure. On the left, perhaps it was an entertainment of some kind. The sign flashed bright with neon. Not the red light district—if such a thing even existed in Milan—but not too far away from it, either.

  She suddenly realized that they had gone too far, too fast, and all in silence.

  They must have been walking for nearly a mile, beyond what any reasonable person would consider close by.

  It was then that her memory caught up.

  After the first crossroads, she had glanced left. Distracted and with the rain in her eyes she hadn’t taken in the sign she had seen—not a large, flashing notice but a more modest sign with black lettering on white.

  “Pensione.”

  That was the word Vadim had used. That was the Italian for backpackers’ lodge, or at any rate a close equivalent.

  “Why are you slowing?” he asked, and now his tone was sharp.

  Ahead, Cassie saw the blaze of waiting headlights. There was a white van parked on the opposite side of the street. It looked like Vadim was heading directly toward it.

  He reached out and in a split second of pure terror, Cassie realized that he had sensed her hesitation, and was going to grab her arm.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Too late, Cassie realized she’d been stupid and talkative and way too trusting. In her need for companionship, she’d shared with this stranger that she was entirely alone in the world and that nobody knew where she was.

  Scenarios of kidnapping, trafficking, and abuse spun through her mind. She had to escape.

  Even as Vadim’s hand closed around her wrist, she pulled it away, and instead he caught hold of her jacket sleeve.

  Fragile and worn, the fabric ripped, leaving only a shred of polyester lining in his grasp. Then she was free.

  Cassie turned and sprinted back the way she had come.

  Head bowed against the rain, she fled across the road as the light changed. Shouts and curses from behind told her that the large umbrella was proving more of a hindrance than a help to Vadim. She ducked left into a side street as a bus passed behind her, praying he hadn’t seen where she had gone, but another shout behind her told her that he had, and was following.

  She made a right turn onto a busier street, and as she weaved through the slow-moving pedestrians, she tugged her jacket and beanie off, in case their colors would help him to spot her. She bundled the garments up under her arm, and reaching another crossroads, she glanced behind her as she turned left again.

  Nobody seemed to be following, but he might still catch up—or, worse still, anticipate where she was going and be waiting there.

  Ahead of her, a beacon of hope and safety, she saw the “Pensione” sign she’d spotted earlier. She couldn’t see Vadim anywhere.

  Cassie sprinted toward it, praying that she could get inside, and out of danger, in time.

  *

  The blare of music from the guesthouse was audible from street level, where a flimsy, white-painted security gate stood ajar.

  Pushing it open, Cassie thudded up the narrow wooden staircase. Voices, laughter, and the aroma of cigarette smoke wafted down to meet her.

  She glanced behind her but the stairway was empty.

  Perhaps he’d given up on the chase. Now that she’d gotten away, she wondered if she had exaggerated the threat. That parked van might have been a coincidence. Vadim could just have wanted her to come back to his place with him.

  Either way, he hadn’t done what he’d promised, and he had tried to grab her as soon as she’d hesitated. Fresh terror surged inside her as she remembered how she’d only just managed to pull away.

  She’d been such an idiot to blurt out to him that she was alone, that nobody knew where she was, that she was on a wild goose chase for a person who might never be found. Breathing hard, Cassie chastised herself for her appalling stupidity. It had felt like such a relief to share Jacqui’s story with a stranger who would not judge her. She hadn’t realized what else she might be sharing, too.

  The security gate at the top of the stairs was closed. It led into a tiny foyer, which was unoccupied, but a button on the wall had a printed sign taped below it.

  The words were in several different languages with English at the top.

  “Ring for Service.”

  Cassie rang, hoping somebody would hear the bell, because the music was deafening up here.

  Please answer, she prayed.

  Then the door at the other side of the foyer opened, and a strawberry-blonde woman of about Cassie’s age walked in. She looked surprised to see Cassie standing outside.

  “Buona sera,” she greeted her.

  “Do you speak English?” Cassie asked, praying that the woman was bilingual and would understand she needed to be let in quickly.

  To Cassie’s relief she switched to German-accented English.
r />   “How can I help you?”

  “I need lodging urgently. Are there any rooms available here?”

  The strawberry-blonde woman thought for a moment.

  “No rooms,” she said, shaking her head, and Cassie felt gutted with disappointment. She looked over her shoulder, worried she’d heard feet on the stairs, but it must have been the thudding of music from somewhere inside the lodge.

  “Please, can I at least come inside?” she asked.

  “Of course. Are you OK?”

  The woman buzzed the door open. Cassie felt the cold metal vibrate in her hands as the lock released and she closed it so that it clanged firmly shut behind her.

  Finally, she was safe.

  “I had a bad experience outside. A man said he’d walk me here but we ended up going a different way. He grabbed my arm when I realized there was something wrong, but I managed to get free.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows, looking shocked.

  “I am glad you escaped. This part of Milan can be dangerous at night. Please, come through to the office. I think I misunderstood your question. We do not have a room open; all the single rooms are booked. But we do have a bed available in a shared dormitory, if you would like to take it.”

  “Thank you so much. I would.”

  Weak with relief that she didn’t have to go out into the dark streets again, Cassie followed the woman through the small foyer and into a tiny office with a notice on the door: “Hostel Manager.”

  There, Cassie paid for the room. Again, she realized the price was uncomfortably high. Milan was a costly place and there seemed no way of living cheaply.

  “Do you have luggage?” she asked.

  Cassie shook her head. “It’s in the car, miles away.”

  To her surprise the other woman nodded as if this was a common occurrence.

  “In a shared room, you will want a toiletry pack then.”

  The toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, and cotton sleep shirt looked to be a life saver and Cassie handed over yet more Euros in exchange.

  “Your room is down the corridor. Yours is the bed closest to the door and it comes with a locker.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And the bar is that way. We provide our guests with the cheapest beer in Milan.” She smiled as she placed the locker key on the counter.

  “My name is Gretchen,” she added.

  “I’m Cassie.”

  Remembering why she was here, Cassie then asked, “What about a phone? Internet?”

  She held her breath as Gretchen considered the question.

  “Guests may only use the office phone in emergencies,” she said. “There are several places nearby where you can make a call and use a computer. They are listed on the notice board next to the bookshelf, and you will also find a map there.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cassie glanced behind her. She’d seen the notice board on her way in, propped on the top of the shelf. It was a large board, covered in cut-out scraps of paper.

  “We also list jobs on the board,” Gretchen explained. “We search all the sites daily and print out the ads. Some places even contact us direct if they need part-time help, such as waiting tables, shelf packing, cleaning. Those jobs are usually paid by the day, in cash.”

  She smiled at Cassie sympathetically, as if she understood what it was like to be short of money in a foreign country.

  “Most of our guests are able to find work if they want it, so if you are in need of a job, let me know,” she said.

  “Thank you again,” Cassie said.

  She headed straight for the notice board.

  There was a list of five nearby places where phones and internet could be used, and Cassie held her breath as she saw Cartoleria’s name was there, but had been recently crossed out with a note, “Closed.”

  That was a hopeful sign, so Cassie decided to ask Gretchen if she could check the guest list. She headed to the lounge, to find that the manager had just opened a beer and was sitting on a sofa among a laughing group of people.

  “Here’s another customer.”

  A tall, lean man with an English accent, who looked even younger than Cassie, jumped up and opened the fridge.

  “I’m Tim. What can I get you?” he asked.

  Seeing her hesitate, he said, “There’s a special on the Heineken.”

  “Thanks,” Cassie said.

  She paid, and he passed her an ice-cold bottle. Two dark-haired girls who looked as if they were twins moved up on one of the other couches to make room for her.

  “Actually, I came here because I was hoping to find my sister,” she said, feeling a pang of nervousness as she spoke.

  “I wonder if any of you might have known her, or if she stayed here. She has blonde hair—or it was blonde when I last knew her. And her name is Jacqui Vale.”

  “You have been apart a long time?” one of the dark-haired girls asked sympathetically.

  When Cassie nodded, she said, “That is very sad. I hope you find her.”

  Cassie took a sip of her beer. It was icy cold, rich with malt.

  The manager was scrolling through her phone.

  “We have not had any Jacqui here in December. Or in November,” she said, and Cassie’s heart sank.

  “Wait,” Tim said. “I remember someone.”

  He closed his eyes, as if thinking back, while Cassie stared at him anxiously.

  “We don’t get many Americans here, so I recall the accent. She didn’t book a room, she came in with a friend who was staying here. She had a drink and then left. She wasn’t blonde; her hair was brown, but she was very pretty and looked a bit like you. Perhaps a few years older.”

  Cassie nodded encouragement. “Jacqui is older.”

  “The friend called her Jax. We started chatting when I served her, and she told me she was staying in a small town. I think it was an hour or two from here. Now, of course, I can’t remember the name of the town.”

  Cassie felt breathless to think that her sister had actually been here. Visiting a friend, going about her life. It didn’t seem as if she was broke or desperate or a drug addict or in an abusive relationship, or any of the other worst-case scenarios that Cassie had worried about whenever she thought of Jacqui, and wondered why she’d never been in touch.

  Perhaps family just hadn’t meant that much to her and she hadn’t felt the need to reconnect. Although they had been close, it was adversity that had forced them together, having to survive their father’s rages and the unstable home life. Jacqui might have wanted to put those memories behind her.

  “I didn’t know your memory for faces was so good, Tim,” Gretchen teased. “Or is it only the pretty girls?”

  Tim grinned, looking abashed. “Hey, she was gorgeous. I was thinking of maybe asking her out, but then I found out she wasn’t staying in Milan, and thought she probably wouldn’t be interested in me anyway.”

  There was a chorus of protest from the other girls.

  “Silly! You should have,” the girl next to Cassie insisted.

  “I didn’t get the right vibe from her, and I think she would have said no. Anyway, Cassie, if you give me your phone number, I’ll do my best to remember which town it was. I’ll message you if I do.”

  “Thank you,” Cassie said.

  She gave Tim her number and finished her beer. It seemed as if everyone else was ready for another round and would carry on talking until past midnight, but she was exhausted.

  She got up and said goodnight to them before heading off to have a hot shower and climb into bed.

  It was only as she pulled the bedcovers back that she remembered, with a shock, that her anxiety meds were still in her suitcase.

  She had suffered the consequences of skipping tablets before. It was difficult to sleep if she was behind on her medication, and she was more likely to have vivid nightmares. Occasionally, she ended up sleepwalking, and Cassie felt nervous if that should happen in this shared dormitory.

  She could only hope tha
t her own exhaustion, together with the beer she’d had, would keep the bad dreams away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Quick. Get up. We need to leave.”

  Someone was tapping Cassie’s shoulder, but she was tired—so tired she could hardly open her eyes. Fighting her exhaustion, she struggled awake.

  Jacqui was standing by her bed, her hair a glossy, perfect brown, wearing a stylish black jacket.

  “You’re here?” Excited, Cassie sat up, ready to give her sister a hug.

  But Jacqui turned away.

  “Hurry,” she whispered. “They’re coming for us.”

  “Who’s coming?” Cassie asked.

  She thought immediately of Vadim. He had grabbed her sleeve, torn her jacket. He’d had plans for her. She’d managed to escape, but now he had found her again. She should have known he would.

  “I don’t know how we can get away,” she said anxiously. “There’s only the one door.”

  “There’s a fire escape. Here, let me show you.”

  Jacqui led her down the long, dark corridor. She was wearing trendy ripped jeans and high-heeled red sandals. Cassie padded behind in her worn trainers, hoping that Jacqui was right and that there would be an escape route here.

  “This way,” Jacqui said.

  She opened a steel door and Cassie recoiled as she saw the rickety fire escape. The steel stairs were rusting and broken. Worse still, the stairway only went halfway down the building. Beyond that there was nothing but an endless, dizzying drop to the street far below.

  “We can’t go out that way.”

  “We can. We must.”

  Jacqui’s laughter was shrill, and staring at her in horror, Cassie saw that her face had changed. This wasn’t her sister at all. It was Elaine, one of her father’s girlfriends, the one that she had hated and feared the most.

  “We’re going down,” the evil blonde woman screamed. “Down you go, you first. Show me how. You know I always hated you.”

  Feeling the rusty metal tremble as she touched it, Cassie began to scream, too.

  “No! Please, no. Help me!”