Exposed (36 page)

But no. There were hands on her, warm hands she knew. Hands she trusted. June found herself in the storm and held on tight. She surfaced and took a huge breath.

“No,” she said. “Get. Out.”

Her head pounded. Every movement of her eyes rubbed raw against her lids. But Butch was gone. June found Ivan’s eyes, squeezed his hands, and nodded. She was okay. She was going to be okay.

She held up the satchel. “I think he found this was missing.” She handed the rucksack to Clayton and let Ivan help her ease down into a chair.

“He’ll find the car was missing too,” Cora said with a small smile. “Huck must be out with it.”

Still, they’d have to move quick. June pushed up to stand, steadying her queasy head for a moment before moving. 

She ran her hand along the deposit boxes, fingertips searching across the ridges and bumps of formed metal. There it was: Box 6124. June felt Clayton come up behind her, press the stacks of bills, handful of diamonds, chunks of gold into her hands.

“Can you do this?” Clayton asked.

“She can,” Ivan answered, and his confidence in her steeled June until she felt as hard as the boxes before her. Helped her push past the terrible fear that made her stomach twist with nausea.

June gritted her teeth and wrapped her hand around the stack of money. It felt heavy against her palm, tainted. How had she ever thought
this
would be her ticket to freedom? It was a prison. June stopped herself. It was Butch who’d planted the desire. She needed to remember that.

June pressed the tips of her fingers against the cold, ridged metal. Felt it press back against her—fight her. June breathed, made herself concentrate on every detail imprinted against the pads of her fingers. She was metal. Air. Water. Nothing was barred to her. 

And the metal melted, her fingers slipping through like it was silk. Working quickly but precisely, she put back the money, jewels, and gold. Her hand flared red by the end, and her knuckles hurt when she tried to bend her fingers, but a calm spread through her. Brought a smile to her face.

She’d done it. She’d set things right. She’d saved Ivan.

It was over.

June turned away from the wall of boxes and sank into Ivan’s chest, his arms. She breathed in the scent of him and felt her heart slow. Her head was pounding, and the back of her throat tasted of metal, but she felt in control of her own future. Of
their
future.

Behind them, Clayton cleared his throat. “We should probably split up for now. Edith thinks you and Ivan were in on this together, so you shouldn’t be seen together until I can sort this out with Edith and the police in the morning.”

“Right,” Cora said with a nod. “I’ll take June home with me.”

June hated letting go of Ivan. Everything in her called out to be with him always. She held tight to his hand and smiled up into his face. The smile was reflected a hundred times over. 

The four of them sneaked back through the dark bank and out a back door. They stood in the alley, the same alley June had exploded through just a few days ago with the stolen money. 

“Will Butch know what you did?” Cora asked.

June clenched Ivan’s hand as a fresh wave of pain threatened to overtake her. She breathed deeply, sucked in the storm-cleaned air and held onto to Ivan as her touchstone. 

“Oh,” she said. “I think he has an idea. But there’s nothing he can do about it.” She didn’t just say the words, she projected them through every fiber of her being. 

Do you hear that, Butch? There’s not a damn thing you can do to touch me now.

Then June and Ivan walked their separate ways down the alley.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Ivan

Ivan watched June walk away. He memorized each swish of her hips, the way her graceful neck curved when she turned her head to Cora, the point of her chin. Her honey-colored hair was caught back behind her elfin ears, and her sweater hugged her hips so he could watch the movement of her bottom.

He memorized that and more. The spark in her eyes when she dreamed of adventure outside of Independence Falls, the quirk of her smile when she boldly touched Ivan. Ivan knew he’d see June soon, but even an hour away from her felt too long. 

“Wait a second,” Ivan muttered to Clayton.

He jogged up to June and lightly—so lightly—pulled her hand into his. She blinked up at him, smiled sweetly. How had he ever thought her smile was false—it was beautiful and true.

“I love you, June Powell.”

June buried her head into his chest and flung her arms around his neck. “I love you too,” she whispered.

“We’ll see each other soon,” he promised, then Ivan let June go and trotted back to Clayton. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Cora and June faded into shadows as they followed the unlit lane down two blocks toward Cora’s bakery and apartment. At the corner, where light from the main street bathed them in soft light, June turned and stared back at Ivan. Her lips pulled up in the smile only for him, and then she and Cora turned the corner and were gone.

The two men walked in silence down the narrow alley on the far side of the bank. Ahead, the street bustled with couples out for a movie and dessert, strolling through the cool summer evening. The townspeople walked arm in arm, laughing and talking and enjoying a life Ivan had never quite known outside of his family’s insular farm. He’d had always felt apart from these people, people who’d never accepted him. He’d hated them for it. But now, with June at his side, perhaps he’d be less an outsider. With June and friends by his side, perhaps suspicion would finally fall away from his family.

Clayton went first, easing himself into the stream of people. Ivan waited for a count of one hundred, then he too joined the townspeople and started walking the opposite way. He’d made it a block when a screech tore apart the night.

“Thief!”

Ivan froze. Heart hammering and legs stiff, Ivan turned to face the accuser, and was met with four people stalking down the sidewalk to him. 

Edith Applebaum wore triumph on her severe face, her eyes gleaming. She led the charge, two police officers flanking her. Officer Barton strode next to Officer Matt Harris. Behind them hobbled Mary Stewart, her mouth turned down in a vicious frown.

Ivan stumbled backward, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. Edith had the conviction of a prophet, the confidence in Ivan’s guilt planted deep in her mind by Butch. His feet caught up underneath him, propelled him backward from the weight of Edith’s accusation, of the cuffs and handguns clanking against the officers’ hips. 

But then he stood straight and stared them down. He was innocent. There was nothing they could do to him.

But no one had told Edith that. She strode up to Ivan and slapped him straight across the face. Her cold, thin hand stung his cheek, but Ivan only grunted. He squared his shoulders and looked over her to the approaching men.

“I told you!” Edith hissed as the cops came close. “He stole from the bank. Didn’t he, Mary?” 

Mary Stewart pounded the concrete sidewalk with her cane in response. 

“Did you see this theft?” Ivan asked. He had to ball his hands to hide his fear.

Edith scowled. “We didn’t need to see the empty deposit box. We saw you hammering on the bank door before. That’s enough evidence for me.”

Beside her, the Officers Barton and Harris shared an uncertain look. 

“Officers,” Ivan said evenly. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“A misunderstanding,” Edith mocked. “You sure don’t look innocent, loitering outside the bank like this.”

“The bank is over a block away,” Ivan said, fighting to keep his voice even. 

“You shouldn’t be allowed anywhere,” Mary hissed. “The allegiances you keep, the people you hurt … you and that family of yours should be locked up. Or worse.”

Ivan’s voice went cold, his heart too. There were people pausing, trying to see what the commotion was all about. A few of them nodded at Mary’s accusations.

“My family is innocent.”

But Officer Barton’s dark eyes narrowed and his hand drifted to the metal cuffs hanging from his belt. “I saw this thug loitering by the bank just this weekend.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near—”

Barton puffed up his thick chest. “You calling me a liar, son? You were by the bank.”

“Hey now, Brad,” Officer Harris started.

Before he could do anything, say anything more, Officer Barton grabbed Ivan’s arm and shoved him against the brick siding of the pharmacy building. Ivan’s cheek scraped against the rough brick, and his shoulder protested as Barton yanked his arms behind his back and slapped cold metal against his wrists. He tugged Ivan back around and pressed him up against the building.

“I don’t know how he did it,” Edith hissed. “But we all know he’s a Soviet. He can’t be trusted. Look how sick his people made our men and women. Look what they did to Jan and Betty.”

Ivan nearly growled with hatred, but that just made Edith smile in triumph.

Edith barked a laugh. “Look at him. He knows I’m right.”

Behind her, Mary nodded. 

And behind Mary, more people gathered. They were forming a ring around them, thick with nodding heads and narrowed eyes. Ivan spied Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe, for whom he and Kostya once did a landscaping project. He caught the eyes of Bo Erikson, Danny Egan, even Betty’s little sister hanging at the edges.

“We all know what his family is,” Bo said, hatred pouring from his eyes. “He probably got June to break into the bank for him.”

“Don’t you say a thing about her,” Ivan growled.

“Ha!” Edith shrieked. “See? He’s guilty.” She rounded on Officer Harris, who was hanging back, a frown furrowing his brow. “Check him! Go on!”

Officer Harris took a step closer and shouldered Barton back. Barton prowled behind them, like a guard dog itching to attack. Beyond him, the onlookers formed a tight knot, craning their necks to see. 

Ivan set his face into a mask and jutted his chin. He wouldn’t let anyone see how this made him roil with shame.

“Look, pal,” Harris said quietly to Ivan. “I’m sorry about this. But I’ll just check your pockets, and then we can settle this.”

And before Ivan could even start to explain, Officer Harris patted his pockets and retrieved the velvet pouch. Edith’s eyes went wide with awful glee and Barton’s meaty hands clenched into fists. The mob at his back lurched forward to see.

The necklace—his beautiful necklace for June—fell from the pouch and dangled from one of Harris’s fingers. The man looked up at Ivan with question in his eyes that quickly turned to pity.

“That’s not …. That’s mine! From my family!” The explanation jammed behind his teeth, came out in a jumble of words. He struggled against Harris’ strong grip, and Barton rushed in to hold him back. 

The mob rushed in too, pressing close. Hands reached for him, tugged at him. Everywhere Ivan looked, anger stared back at him. Determination etched the faces of many of the men. The sort of dead-eyed certainty that only spoke devastation.

“Look on the back,” Ivan said, fighting real fear that was threatening to close his throat. “It’s engraved on the back. In Cyrillic. Why would she have a Russian heirloom?”

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Officer Harris tried to lead Ivan away from the crowd, but they ripped him free. Ivan was jostled between people, breath hot and sour in his face, hands grabbing and slapping and poking. 

Ivan, nearly manic now, raked his eyes through the mob. Someone grabbed hold of his cuffed hands and wrenched his shoulders back until he hissed in pain.

“Hey now,” Officer Harris called out. “Stand back. I’m an officer.” 

Ivan could see the man trying to shoulder through the mob, but he was getting nowhere. Officer Barton had disappeared into the crowd. Perhaps he was one of them now, one of the men twisting his arms and stomping on his feet.

“We all knew he was guilty,” Bo Erikson shouted over the rabble. “I saw him carrying that poor girl’s body. He killed Betty,” Bo screeched. All around Ivan, people shouted back in response. 

All of them … they all truly believed he’d killed someone. Ivan nearly wilted under the realization of it all. They all thought him capable of such cruelty.

“And who knows, maybe he killed Jan Clarkson too! If not him directly, his
people
.”

“Kill him!” Someone in the crowd shouted it, and people nodded. Actually nodded. 

The hands on him tightened, pinched. Ivan’s heart hammered in his chest and bile rose up his throat.

“I didn’t,” he shouted back. No one listened. He wasn’t even sure if they could hear him anymore. He wasn’t a person to them, he was an enemy. The reason behind all of their problems.

“Boycotting them at the market wasn’t enough,” shouted another voice. “His people are still poisoning us, killing our children.”

One face caught his attention, a smile twisting the mouth. Ivan locked eyes with Butch and lurched forward.

“I’ll kill you,” Ivan snarled at Butch. “This is all because of you, Butch. You won’t get away with it.”

Butch just smiled. “You see what he really is. You all just heard him threaten me.”

Bo’s voice was right at Ivan’s ear, the man’s hands wrenching Ivan’s wrists in the cuffs. “We know what to do, boys,” Bo called out. 

And he started dragging Ivan toward the river. Ivan twisted in Bo’s grip, stumbled to keep his feet under him. Fear made his vision edge in black, terror gripped his chest in a vice. Would they really …?

He knew the answer, and it made him struggle harder. 

Over the heads of the mob, Ivan saw Matt Harris trying to fight through the crowd in desperation. And he saw something else too. People were being shouldered back, pushed aside. Someone screamed, others shouted and looked at the interlopers.

Then June, Cora, and Clayton burst through the mob. They were breathing hard, and there was a scratch on June’s cheek. But the three of them hauled Ivan away from Bo and stood beside him.