«David,» the chief said very softly. «Go home. Now. We don’t have much work. Take the day off. Okay?»
And David nodded with gratitude.
* * * * *
He did not remember how he drove home.
Near nervous breakdown he entered the house and stood in the middle of the living room, looking around and trying coming back to his senses.
«Daddy?» he heard, and winced. Hannah came close to him.
«Mom said you’re going to leave.» Her voice quavered, and a painful feeling of guilt fell on David. He called himself a bastard. He was surprised. Why he had never noticed how much his firstborn girl looked like him? Her worried eyes searched his face, and David saw clearly – all her life depended on his answer.
«Is it true?» Hannah frowned trying not to cry, and David put his hand on her head.
«No, honey,» he said as tender as he could. «Daddy stays.»
He heard a gasp. Megan flung herself to him, threw her arms around his neck, and David embraced her.
«Forgive me,» he whispered.
«Let’s never talk about this again,» she pleaded.
«I promise.» David felt the small arms of his child timidly hugging him. «I swear,» he specified, seeing Dylon toddle into the room.
The VanSteins felt as if they had all been cured of a serious disease, and they were all happy that it was finally over.
Chapter Twenty – Three: A Hero
Today Lana planned to see her father, and Oleg was driving her in his Jeep.
It was the zenith of the summer, and the short night, hot and enchanting, had just ended. The sun looked out impartially from the magic line where earth meets sky, and this early serene morning cast pacifying and romantic thoughts over everyone.
Everything seemed as cloudless as this day’s bright blue sky, and Lana could not imagine anything that might change this mood.
They were stopped at a red light when suddenly a small dark blue truck, such as farmers prefer to use, swept past the Jeep, scratching the door on Oleg’s side and knocking off the mirror. The Blue Truck did not stop. It hit a red minivan and continued along the road. Oleg cursed.
«Did you see the registration number?» asked Lana, shocked. He gazed at her, and an idea came to him.
«Let’s get that bastard’s butt!» Oleg laughed, pushing the gas pedal. His car was much better than the other driver’s, and Oleg had no doubts about catching him.
In Russia, Oleg never paid attention to the speed limit. He had official contacts. But here, in the U.S.A., he did not want to have any trouble, and usually he would drive very carefully. Now he was enjoying the feeling of high speed. The law was on his side, and he could show himself a hero, catching a criminal.