Crossing the Line Read Free

remember one perfect day, one perfect night to sustain her through what lay ahead. Forget the imperfect morning.
    Her sister, Galya, had been married for three months when her policeman husband had been shot dead in Moscow by drug dealers. She’d told Katya that thinking of Oskar kept her going when she was scared or wanted to give up. Katya had to do the same. If she died, at least a handsome man had brought her pleasure. She’d think of his broad shoulders, tidy dark hair, movie star looks and it would make her smile. She’d met him too soon, but perhaps this was all the happiness she’d get. The thought made her heart clench, but he’d be the good memory to keep her warm when the bad memories kept her going.
    Until her sister died, Katya had existed in selfish oblivion where she lived, breathed and dreamed music. Galya’s murder dragged her back to reality and Katya’s life had spiraled into hell. She’d been infected by Galya’s resolve to put the world right, damaged by her father’s obsession with finding his daughter’s killer and broken-hearted by the way the family had disintegrated. When she’d lost the rest of her family in the accident-that-wasn’t, hate moved into her heart, pushing out love.
    Hate kept her alive, but stopped her from moving on. Hate fueled hate and inactivity fed the fire. She couldn’t rest until those who’d killed her family paid for what they’d done. The desire for vengeance burned like phosphorous inside her. Anger gave her the strength to continue. Until she’d done all she could to punish those who were responsible, she had no life.
    Her friends thought she was hoping to get away from it all, but it was a lie. She was flying into trouble.

    She started when Vasily shook her awake. The truck had stopped. It was dark but she could see they were in a dirt-covered yard next to a single story dwelling surrounded by trees. There were no other houses. As Vasily stepped from the truck two large dogs bounded up and she tensed. Her aunt had never mentioned dogs.
    “Down, Lucifer. Down, Satan.” He turned to Katya. “They bite, so careful.”
    “Tell them not to,” she said, a lump in her throat.
    He laughed and came around to open the door on her side. One of the dogs jumped up and she reeled back. The animal’s breath stank.
    “Get down, Satan.”
    Vasily beckoned for Katya to step out. She reluctantly stayed close to him as the dogs sniffed her. He put his arm over her shoulder.
    “She’s friend, not foe. Get out of here, boys.”
    The dogs slunk away and she shrugged off her uncle’s arm to gather her violin and backpack before following him and her suitcase to the dilapidated house. The heat and humidity stole her breath, made her clothes feel clammy.
    Vasily pulled back the screen and opened the door. “Mouse, we’re here.”
    Katya’s heart beat faster. A door opened and a frail woman in a dirty pink housecoat appeared, her face drawn and pale, but so like her mother that Katya’s lungs locked.
    “Privyet, Yekaterina Petrovna,” her aunt said.
    Katya put down her things, rushed to hug her and felt bones beneath the material.
    “It’s good to finally meet you, Katya. I was so disappointed when your plane was delayed.” Irina pulled back to look at her. “You’re nothing like your mother.”
    “Galya looked like Mama. Papa said I looked like the man at the post office.”
    Her aunt laughed. “Always a joker, your Papa.”
    Not after Galya died .
    Irina swayed and clutched Katya’s arm. “I’m sorry, I’m not well.”
    Vasily scooped her up. “First time in ten days she’s been on her feet.”
    Katya followed them into the dark bedroom. The smell of decay hit her and she breathed through her mouth.
    “You should have told me you were ill,” she said.
    “Then you wouldn’t have come.”
    Vasily plumped up the pillows under Irina’s head.
    “Sorry, Katechka,” Irina mumbled and closed her eyes.
    Out of the bedroom, Katya took in what she’d