“Thank God,” he says with what sounds like genuine relief.
“You were at the park,” I say. “When Anton got hit.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been following me.”
“Yes.”
“On Sergei’s orders.”
“Yes.” He nods once.
“For how long?”
He pauses, considering how much to tell me. “A while.”
“How long is a while?”
“That’s something you should ask Mr. Sokolov.”
I take a drink of water, trying to process this. Sergei Sokolov has had people watching me for God knows how long. Watching me enough to know my routines, my favorite places, where I’d be tonight.
The question is why.
“Did you set this up?” I ask.
He smirks. “No.”
“Why are you watching me?”
“I was ordered to.”
“You followed me here tonight?”
A nod.
“Because Sergei Sokolov told you to.”
Another nod.
I sit with that for a second. “Does your boss want me dead?”
A shrug. “I don’t know.”
Honest. I suppose that’s good. I stare at him and try to think of where I’ve seen him.
“Are you in my statistics class?”
He grins. “I’ve been in the class. But I’m not in the class.”
All this time. I never knew. I’ve been thinking I was aware of my surroundings. Prided myself on spotting danger.
It’s been right beside me all along.
14
Sergei