Suddenly, the car stops, and I go on high alert. Are we pulling over to get a head start on what Dmitry was talking about? Has he changed his mind about taking me to his house? Maybe he’ll just kill me and be done with it. My father won’t be any wiser until six months from now when I don’t come home. By then, there will be no trace of me for the police to find.
My heart is lodged in my throat.
Dmitry turns to me and drags his thumb across my lips with a mischievous smile on his lips. His blue eyes sparkle. “I’ll be back.”
I watch him walk around the car and up to a small house set back from the road. The lawn is overgrown and the porch light is out, covering everything in shadow. I can see enough to know that the woman who answers the door is middle-aged and wearing a robe. Dmitry talks
