Pedaling out to Corbett’s place, she checked the odometer. It was five miles from her motel to his house and another five miles to his office in the village. Easy peasy. She rolled past the driveway and stopped to take a swig from her water bottle. She spotted the blue Mercedes. So, he hadn’t left yet. Or maybe he had taken a cab? She hopped back on the bike, rode a few hundred yards down the road, and stopped again. This time she pretended to tie her shoe. After turning the bike around, she was heading toward Corbett’s house again when a blue Mercedes passed her on the other side of the road. It was Corbett. She stopped, waited a few minutes, and then started toward his house again. There were no signs of movement outside. She stashed the bike in the hedge and carefully made her way to the back door, peeking into the windows. No movement inside, either.

After looking around for any other signs of life, she pulled herself up onto the second-story deck. She checked the sliding patio door. Unlocked. This is going to be almost too easy, she thought, until she heard the crunching of gravel in the driveway. She listened carefully as she leaned into the building, trying to conceal herself from view. She heard women’s voices chattering in a foreign language. It was Russian. She could make out a few words that indicated they were there to clean the house. She had to think fast. She couldn’t climb down without them seeing her. If she stayed in a fixed position, she might be able to avoid their attention. But for how long? After listening for a few more minutes, she realized that there were only two of them. Their voices trailed off as they entered the house. She could hear only mumbling from her vantage point on the deck.

Sasha checked her immediate surroundings. On the deck there were two chaise lounge chairs and a box, which probably contained the cushions for the chairs. With the agility of a cat, Sasha moved to the box and looked inside. As suspected, cushions. If she could maneuver the cushions to the chairs, she could stow away in the box until the cleaning crew left. Listening carefully for sounds from inside the house, she could tell that the women were in the kitchen below. The blare of a radio startled her. She held her breath. The music continued to play as the women kept yakking. She had to move quickly. One cushion. Then the other. Each set on top of a chair.

Sasha folded herself into the box and left the lid slightly cracked so she could breathe. She waited. Almost three hours went by. Her legs were getting numb. Then she heard doors slam and a car start up, followed by the same gravelly sound she had heard earlier. Five minutes more, then she should be free.