And then, the tree came alive. She could make out its face clearly. The eyelids batted once, twice, three times, right at her. The trunk sprang a limb and raised it to its lips. The tree was going to save her. It was telling her to be quiet. If only she could keep quiet, the tree would come to her rescue. That it would do so didn’t come as a surprise, Nadia thought. She was always one with nature. She’d never chopped a live tree for kindling, she didn’t leave garbage behind her, and she stepped on bugs only if they were near her lean-to. She loved nature and nature loved her. Of course it would save her. Of course it would.
The face of the tree moved. It grew a human body. She could see its outline within the tree itself. It was the body of a young man. It sprang from inside the trunk — a hollowed-out, dead tree trunk. The man’s face was caked with mud the same color as the tree. The golden locks that had been tucked behind him were released. They fell to his shoulders and bounced off his back. He gripped a homemade bat carved from a thick tree branch. His ferocious blue eyes were glued to their target.
Wait, Nadia thought. She knew those eyes. They didn’t belong to a tree.
They belonged to Marko.
He swung the bat into the man’s knees. The man fell. Marko pummeled him in the head once, twice. The woman lunged at Marko with a knife. Marko darted away. Not quick enough. The blade stabbed him in the side. He let out a muted groan.
Nadia screamed her brother’s name.
Marko and the woman squared off. Bat against knife. She backpedalled, pointing the blade at his chest. Put the lantern down to free her left hand.
Take two more steps, woman, Nadia thought.
One.
Two.
Nadia leapt from the bed of ferns and grabbed the lantern. Turned it down until there was only a spark left.
Everything went black.
A shuffle of feet. A yelp and a thud.
Five seconds later Marko told her to turn it back on.
“You all right?” he said.
“I’m good,” Nadia said. In fact, she wasn’t good. Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering and she felt light-headed, as though she might faint any second and never wake up. But she couldn’t let Marko think she was a weakling so she pretended she was okay. “What about you? You got stabbed. You must be bleeding. Let me take a look.”
“There’s no time for that, Nancy Drew. We need to tie these two up. Get the hell out of here.”
They bound her captors’ wrists and feet with rope from Marko’s backpack.
Afterward, Marko carried Nadia three miles to a ranger’s station, where a man in a gray uniform drove them to a hospital in his pickup truck. Nadia thought of fun things during the entire ordeal. There were plenty of them, she realized. Life wasn’t so bad. There was Fanta Red Cream Soda, her best friends Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes, and there was Marko. He was her brother and as long as she had him there would always be joy in her life.
When the nurse in the emergency room took Nadia’s temperature it was 102. The doctor feared she was coming down with pneumonia so he admitted her for the night. Marko’s wound needed twenty-one stitches but otherwise he was okay.
Two policemen came and listened to Nadia’s story. They told her the man and the woman had concussions but were going to live, and spend most of their lives in jail. The man had escaped from the Coxsackie Correctional Facility four days earlier. It was a maximum-security prison in New York State. He and his girlfriend were making their way to a farm she’d inherited in Canaan, Connecticut. They both had a history of doing bad things to children.
Nadia stayed in the hospital for one night. Then she went home and recuperated without catching pneumonia.
Two months later at a PLAST summer camp, Nadia was awarded her merit badge. The pride in her father’s eyes made the entire ordeal worthwhile. She’d pleased him. He was happy. There would be no yelling or screaming for at least a few days.
When Nadia held the cotton badge in her hand at the awards ceremony, she knew there was nothing in this world she could not do.
CHAPTER 35
The local police arrived to help the troopers restore order at the cemetery. Then more troopers arrived, and we were driven to the eastern district headquarters of the Connecticut State Police in Norwich. A detective from the Major Crimes Unit debriefed us individually. During my stay, I learned that Marko had gotten to know some troopers over the years through his business. I wasn’t sure if that was his motorcycle or strip club business, and I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask. Perhaps both. He’d called them after his two men let him know I had followed Donnie Angel and his crew to the cemetery.
I found the white Honda that I’d seen following me parked near the cemetery entrance. It turned out it belonged to one of Marko’s men, the one with the handgun. Behind it was the black Subaru I’d seen the night I’d met Roxy at the Stop & Shop parking lot. That’s how I knew the men who’d burst into the office with Marko to save me. I’d caught glimpses of their faces through their windshields.
The state police released us at 6:00 a.m. Marko and I walked to the parking lot. A team of cops and troopers had driven all the vehicles from the cemetery to Norwich. Marko used his long stride to try to forge ahead of me. I hustled to keep up with him.
“When did you start having me followed?” I said.
He gave me a sour glance as though trying to wish me away, but I refused to leave.
“Well?”
He shook his head. “As soon as you told me you’d run into Donnie Angel, and that you had some cockamamie theory that your godfather had been murdered. First, you don’t run into scum like Donnie Angel unless you’re dirty or he wants you to run into him. And you’re not dirty. Second, I figured one was related to the other.”
“What do you mean?”
“Donnie Angel and your theory that your godfather was murdered. It was too much of a coincidence. Them happening at the same time.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That it was. Why did you go to his house that day?”
“The bastard hadn’t paid me.”
“Did he pay you then?”
“Yeah. He was all apologetic and what not. He wanted to sit on the money for as long as he could. A lot of people are like that when it comes to business. Even though you don’t earn anything on your money these days.”
“So he was fine when you left him?”
“I left him watching reruns of American Pickers on TV.” He let a moment of silence pass. “He died like the cops said he did, right?”
“Yup. Whatever else he was, Rus was his brother. He knew him better than anyone, and when he said it was an accident at the cemetery there was no lying in his face. He must have fallen down the stairs going for more wine, to check for flooding, or for whatever reason we’ll never know. I guess I was looking for something to do. I guess I got myself all riled up for nothing.”