Page 33 of Blood Mosaic

“You’re not.” He gave her a hint of a smile. “Mr. Sokolov pays me enough. I’ll see you next time.” He tipped his head, then backed out of the doorway and closed the door behind her.

With a purr, Pushkin the cat walked down the hall and wound his grey tail around her legs.

And Tatyana was home.

She gave Pushkin a quick pat, then quickly moved her suitcases into her room—better that her mother not see the new one—before she walked to the back balcony where the stairs to the roof were located. She walked out the back door, sliding it closed quickly to keep Pushkin from escaping up to the pigeon loft.

She could hear the soft cooing of the birds as soon as she stepped outside.

As she climbed the stairs, a few of them flapped out to greet her, and she called them by their names, old Hollywood royalty from the classic American movies her mother loved.

“Hello, Audrey.” She recognized the bright purple feathers of a favorite. “Cary Grant, you handsome devil. It’s good to see you.”

Cary Grant landed on the edge of the wall that encircled the roof and started strutting, his bright purple head flashing in the setting sun.

Anna glanced over her shoulder as she cleaned out the aviary. “You’re back. The food is ready when you’re hungry.”

“I’m fine for now. Just wanted to watch the sunset.”

Her mother wasn’t an expressive woman—she reserved most of her affection for her feathered pets—but the neat house andthe food told Tatyana that Anna was happy and relieved that she was home. “How is Rex Harrison?”

She nodded toward the coop. “Healing. I let him out last night, and he flew around the neighborhood a bit before he came back.” She touched the head of a shining white male pigeon who had injured a wing a few weeks before.

“Did he shit on Mrs. Lipovsky’s apples before he came back?”

“I certainly hope so,” Anna said.

“Me too.” She watched the sun slip past the horizon, and the sea settled into a deep blue green that pricked at something in her memory.

“You did this?”

“Yes.”

“By yourself?”

“It took some time.”

It was a faint memory that drifted away before it clarified. Was it a movie? A conversation she’d overheard? Something about the garbled memory gave her a warm, contented feeling.

It’s not something I share…

Her mother turned and brushed off her hands, taking off her work gloves before she walked toward Tatyana. “Why don’t we go inside and eat? I’m done up here. The boys will put all the girls to roost. Tell me about the new job.”

“I will.” Tatyana stood and followed her mother down the steps. “But let me unpack a few things from my bag and plug my computer in before I set the table.”

“You and the computer.” Anna muttered something under her breath. “Don’t be long.”

She followed her mother inside the house and went to the back bedroom that she’d claimed for her office with Pushkin tagging at her heels. Her suitcases would be fine as they were, but there was one thing she needed to check before she did anything else.

Tatyana took her computer from the messenger bag and set it on the desk that looked over the back garden of the house. Then she plugged it in, grabbed the small screwdriver from her desk drawer, and crawled under the desk to take off the register cover over the heating vent in the floor.

She carefully set the small screws to the side and shined her phone’s flashlight into the cavity she’d cleared the year before.

Her heart stopped.

No.

She shined the light into the corners even though she knew there was no way her backup laptop should be anywhere but exactly where she left it before she flew to Odesa.

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