Elian’s mouth sets in a firm line as she crosses the tram tracks and approaches the building. She imagines Lev cowering inside and the bitter taste of revenge fills her up. Yes, that’s exactly how it should be. After all, wasn’t she the one cowering inside the caravan, shackled in her chains, scared of what Lev and Niko were planning to do to her? This is the reckoning point, her justice, Lev’s judgement day.
She skips up the stairs, not caring about making a noise this time, marching determinedly down the walkway, past the onlookers and rubberneckers. One of the forensic team’s men says something to her in Dutch, and when she ignores him he calls out to an officer. The officer, a tired looking middle aged man, catches her arm.
“Hey, get off me,” she spits and wrenches her arm away.
“Madam, you cannot go along here, this is a crime scene,” he replies patiently and blocks her path.
Elian stands, arms folded and glares at him. “Have you been inside there?” She nods towards apartment 1058 and the officer eyes her uneasily.
“Because that Russian who lives there, he’s responsible for this. I saw him!” She sees the policeman’s eyes widen and bites down on her lip.
As much as she wants Lev to be caught and punished for all of his misdeeds, she doesn’t want to have to be in the centre of the trial. No, once Lev is arrested, her plan is to be out of here, flying back home so she can finally start her own life.
“Just check it out,” she snaps as she retreats back the way she came.
She hurries down the metal stairs, glancing back to make sure the officer isn’t following her.
As she trots down the last flight she swings around the banister, darting glances behind her and then she lets out an ‘ooof’ as she connects with something solid. Panicking, she pushes away but an arm shoots out and grips her wrist with surprising strength.
“Elian!”
The voice is familiar, and when she rights herself and looks at him, she lets out a sigh of relief.
“Hello, Doctor Bastiaan,” she says, still looking back and up to the third floor to make sure she’s not being followed.
“What are you doing out here, at this time of morning?” he asks, still holding her arm.
She shrugs free, moving across the road, giving him no choice but to follow. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d take a walk on the beach.”
“The beach is that way,” the Doctor says, smiling as he matches her long strides. “What’s happening up there? Is it something to do with what you told me the other day?”
Elian remembers blurting out about the body and the Doctor’s confusion and her own subsequent bewilderment. Now she understands, the two women were separate attacks, but Lev is likely responsible for both.
She doesn’t know what to say to the doctor, she doesn’t know how to answer him. And why is he always here? His surgery is across town, yet somehow, for some reason, he’s always happening upon her here on Gevers. And she can’t ask him however, because he could turn her thoughts around and say exactly the same to her. So she says nothing, and before long they’re back on the beach, walking together and the silence is uncomfortable to say the least.
“I was actually hoping that I might bump into you today, Elian,” he says as the pass the pier.
“Oh, why’s that?” she asks, warily, hoping he’s not going to start pressuring her to go to therapy or counselling again.
“You left something at the surgery the other day, I thought it might be important so I wanted to return it to you.”
He stops walking and she too pauses, reluctantly turning to face him.
He reaches into his overcoat, and it strikes her that even though the sun isn’t up, the night is still warm, they are in the height of a summer heat wave, and he has no need to be wearing a coat of that weight and thickness. And instantly she’s transported back in time, when she first encountered Klim, before she knew who he was, and the heavy leather coat he wore and the ridiculous woollen hat even though it was the middle of summer.
Pangs of something close to nostalgia and fondness cling to the memory of him, surprising her because he was unreachable, not like the kind Sol or the clinging Sissy. But she suddenly longs for him, for his calm and quiet nature, and his straight-talking ways.
Blinking, she brings herself back to the present, back to the doctor and in the dim light of the pier lights she frowns at what he is presenting her with.
“It’s an address book, yes?” he asks as he pushes it into her hands. “You left it on your chair when you came to the surgery to get your results.”
She accepts it, feeling the familiar weight of the book that contains her innermost thoughts and memories. Clutching it to her chest she feels the heat in her face.
He has read her notebook, he knows it’s not an address book. He sat in his dark office and read every single word about every single act that was forced upon her.
And she
