Smoke and Mirrors by Marie Treanor Read Free Book Online Page B

Anna’s room. Feminine sweaters, trousers, tops, bags, and scarves were scattered on the bed, although there was no sign of their owner. Nell was feeling better disposed toward the other woman after her sleep. Discovering clean knickers, a pair of jeans, a couple of tops, and a sweater lying on her bed when she came out of the shower had helped a lot. In the circumstances, prying into Anna’s room seemed rude.
    I’m just not cut out for this. Hastily, she moved on to the next door, which stood wide open. No one was inside, and yet she knew instinctively that this was his room. Kolnikov’s. Rodion’s. Whatever his wretched name was. Although she couldn’t see it—thank God—she could almost imagine his aura still hung around it. She seemed to feel an echo of the electrical excitement that came with his presence.
    Or perhaps it was just the scent of whatever shower gel he used. Faint but definite, the smell clung to her nostrils as she stepped over the threshold.
    Her heart hammered. Ignoring the unmade bed, she walked over to the chest of drawers. There was nothing on the surface apart from a comb and some loose change, as if he’d emptied his pockets before he undressed. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she slid open the top drawer of the chest. Socks, underpants, a small, rumpled pile of T-shirts.
    What the hell was she looking for anyway? A bag of heroin? Guns? Semtex? A handy list of criminal and terrorist contacts? And in the extremely unlikely event that she found any, what the hell could she possibly do with them right now? She was alone in the lion’s den.
    At last, with odd reluctance, she looked toward the bed, a king-size divan with the quilt still thrown back and a dent in the mattress and the pillow where he’d slept. Uncomfortable thought. On the other pillow lay a trade-size paperback book. Her eyes passed over it toward the bedside table—empty like its companion on the other side—and came slowly back to the book. It couldn’t be.
    She hurried across the room and stared. Oh yes, it was her book. Dreams of Darkness by Nell Black.
    When the hell had he had the chance to buy that since this morning?
    No chance. None at all.
    What’s it about? he’d asked her in the café. But she hadn’t told him, even though she could recite the back of the book blurb by heart. “ A dark, disturbing tale about dreams and foresight… “ “ Nell Black is the Scottish-born daughter of an immigrant from the isolated ex-Soviet republic of Zavrekestan. She holds degrees in Russian literature and works as a freelance translator. Dreams of Darkness is her stunning first novel, inspired by one of her own dark dreams which came tragically true .”
    Perhaps it was something he’d picked up in an airport shop and never got around to reading until her name had reminded him of it?
    Perhaps. Coincidences happened. Didn’t they?
    Whatever, she’d been skulking in here too long. Anna must have been aware as soon as she’d got up, since the arrival of the clean clothes had been so well-timed. She should show herself downstairs.
    Hastily, she crept back toward the door, slid out into the hall, and ran quietly downstairs. From somewhere came the sound of rock music.
    At the foot of the stairs, she paused, looking straight across at the front door. Light flooded in through the original Victorian stained glass in the top panel. Beyond it, the big storm door stood open. How hard would it be just to walk through the door and keep going? She was in Fife, not the west Highlands. Surely she wouldn’t have to walk far to reach civilization? Or to hitch a lift?
    A bulky shadow fell across the door, a key slid in the lock, and Boris came in. He nodded to her, closed the door, and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen.
    Nell blinked. He hadn’t looked remotely bothered whether she stayed inside or not. Perversely, she lost all desire to escape and followed him into the kitchen.
    Boris was pouring himself a large mug of