“Yes, I called Sophia like you said to, and she coached me.” Dave rambled off a sentence in the language and sounded authentic.
“Who were you asking for?”
“I think I asked for a taxi?”
“You think? Let’s hope those guys aren’t Greek, or they’ll know it’s a ruse.”
David grinned. “I practiced all morning. Even called a number and got Anne a cab earlier.”
Sam laughed. “Okay then, let’s try.”
David wrote down the info Stasia gave him, and then he pressed those numbers into the phone now attached to his equipment. It rang three times before they heard a young male voice, hesitant, sounding scared yet very abrupt. “What? They wanted me to stay. They said they would pay more.”
“Pavel? Is that you?”
Silence followed, and then he spoke, excitement beginning to show in the awakening tone. “Who is this?”
“Stasia. I need to talk to you.”
“Oh God, Stasia. Are you alright? They told us that you’d had an accident. That you were… dead.” The last word held all the horror of his belief.
“No. No, I’m just hiding. I need to know something. Where they move you to. You’re not at same house now.”
“It’s not far. Maybe a mile closer to town, but I think it’s on the same highway. It’s a white house, with a red-tiled roof. There’s a big barn in the yard that’s furnished. They organize parties to be held there. Crazy parties. I hate them. Tell me where you are. I’ll run away too, and we can be together.”
“I cannot say, Pavel. But I call soon. Thank you my friend. I love you. Bye.”
“Bye.” The choked, sad word hung in the void.
Sam saw Stasia use her napkin to wipe her eyes. He hated to see such a pretty young girl so damn sad… and with good reason.
Jesus, life was unfair to the unlucky.