Page 31 of Stripped

Chapter 17

Pim watched from her window as he got in his car and drove off. Good riddance, she thought, but three little words sat in the back of her mind. Three little words that she wished to hell he'd never muttered, 'That's my girl.' She didn't need him to watch her life fall apart. She thought about calling her mom but stopped herself. She wouldn't know what to say and her mom would somehow find a way to make this her fault. She sat down on the couch and pulled her phone out. I need her name and address. She sent the text to Graham.

Her phone dinged. Pim, I don't have it. Leave it alone.

She typed a message back. You worked for my grandfather. The way I see it, you work for me now. Name and address.

Natasha Komarov 8 Murano Street flat 213. She's a liar. She's only after your grandfather's money.

Pim threw the phone down, holding her head. She felt the bile rise in her stomach. If she were smart, she would leave it alone and go about her life as if the last three days never happened, but the girl's words rang out in her mind. She ordered an Uber and went downstairs to wait for it. A black Vauxhall pulled up and she got in. Fifteen minutes later, it pulled up to an old brick council house. It was close to Possilpark, an area in Glasgow known for its drug problems and high crime rates. The building was worn down, a reflection of the deprivation and neglect the industrial community encompassed. She took the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door. The girl answered almost immediately, as if she was expecting Pim, and they stood there, staring at each other without saying anything.

"You should come in," she finally said.

Pim entered, looking around. The furniture was sparse, and what there was of it, was cheaply made and gaudy.

"Please," Natasha said, pointing to the one small couch.

Pim sat. The young boy was nowhere to be seen.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, uhm, no, I'm fine." She wasn't sure what she was doing here or what this was going to accomplish. Her grandfather was dead. Even if he did have a fling with this girl, it didn't matter now.

"I'm Natasha." The girl sat down next to her.

"I know," Pim said shortly. She didn't mean to take her frustration out on the girl and her hand shook as she rubbed her forehead trying to calm down, suddenly afraid of what she might learn. "How do you know my grandfather?"

"It's complicated," Natasha started to say. She ran her hand through her long blonde hair. "I lived in Russia with my grandparents. My mother moved away after I was born, for a better life. The village I am from is very poor, and there's not a lot of opportunity."

"So you came here hoping to meet a rich man."

"No, it's not like that at all." She cleared her throat. "One night, a man came to our house. He had a letter for my grandparents from my mother. The next thing I knew, I was being taken away. I screamed and cried and tried to get away from the man. I didn't want to leave my grandparents, but they said I must go." She paused and looked at Pim sadly. "I don't remember what happened next exactly. I was drugged, so the memories are blurred, but I know I was put into a metal shipping container with other girls. Some of them were much younger than I was, and they were crying. They wanted to go home. We had no food, no toilet, just a few bottles of water to share between us. We could have been in there a few days or a week, I don't know, but when the container was opened, two men with guns got us out. I was separated from the other girls and taken away by one of the men. He put me into the trunk of a car and I was brought here."

"Dear God." Pim shook her head as tears gathered in her eyes. The story was worse than she had imagined. "How old were you?"

"I had just turned fourteen." Natasha reached over for a box of tissues on a side table, offering one to Pim.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"A woman came the next day with food and clothes. She helped me bathe and dressed me in a traditional Russian girl's dress. I had one like it back home. She braided my hair and gave me new shoes to put on. I remember thinking I had never been treated so grandly before. I thought I was going to meet my mother. From the few letters she wrote my grandparents, I knew she had become an important woman."

The girl stopped and Pim wasn't sure if she was going to continue. "Did you meet your mother?"

"No," she said. She looked over at Pim, her brown eyes hesitant. "I was taken to the most beautiful home I had ever seen and introduced to a very kind gentleman."

Pim felt the color drain from her face and the realization of what she was about to hear hit her like a ton of bricks. "My grandfather," she said numbly.

Natasha wiped her own tears and nodded. "Angus."

"And your son?"

"He was not born yet." She shook her head. "That day, I was so disappointed when I realized I wasn't going to see my mother, I cried and cried. Angus was so loving and gentle. He showed me to the most beautiful room and said it was mine. It was filled with dolls and books in Russian. I didn't speak very much English then. We had a wonderful dinner with more desserts than I could eat. That night, he came to my room. I didn't know what happened between a man and a woman. I was very sheltered. It hurt. I cried the entire time, but he said it would get better and when it was over, he held me."

Pim was going to be sick. "Can I use your bathroom?" Natasha pointed to a door off the sitting room. She ran to it, and leaning over the toilet, she threw up, over and over again. Her grandfather was a fucking child molester. When she recovered from the initial shock, she rinsed her mouth with water and returned. "I think I should go."

"I understand," Natasha said, standing. "I didn't want to upset your life, Pim. You had nothing to do with the situation. I only came today to talk with Mr. Rankin. He refuses to see me and won't pay the rent. He's threatened to send us back."

"Were you married to him?" She couldn't bring herself to say his name or call him Grandfather.

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