Searching for Stolen Love Page 6

  Chapter 4

  I awakened in my chair and reached for the gun. It’s time to go. I pulled the hammer back, flipped out the cylinder, and spun it, checking every hole to see if it had a slug of death. Satisfied. I closed and locked the cylinder.

  As I passed the table, I spotted Yelena's scarf that she always wore when she went outside. I slowly approached the table put the gun down, picked the scarf up, and sniffed it. I smelled traces of Chanel. Then memories of Yelena began flooding my mind…

  ..I bought Yelena a small bottle of Chanel for Christmas, the Catholic Christmas on December 25th, At first, she became surprised and smiled, when she held the box in her hand. Then her smile transformed into a frown. She jammed the box into my hand, returning the gift to me.

  Yugoslavian women were very proud and did not like expensive gifts, even from their men. Yelena knew I bought the expensive bottle in only one place in town, the perfumery in Mercator, a little mall that catered to the few wealthy Bosnians who lived in the area.

  After I had walked her home, I kissed her gently good night. As I held Yelena tight, and our tongues swirled and chased each other in our mouths, I secretly slipped the bottle into her jacket pocket. Yelena squinted her eyes and puckered her lips into an angry scowl when she discovered the bottle in her pocket. Then her frown softened into a smile. She kissed me again and went home. Every time I met, I could always smell the faint scent of Chanel…

  I came out of my dream. It was time for me to go. I sniffed Yelena's scarf one last time, and then I folded it and tucked it neatly into my back jeans pocket. A partial tear formed in the corner of my right eye.

  I missed my Serbian girl, and I must find her. Most likely someone will die tonight.

  I kneeled down onto my knees and folded my two hands together for prayer.

  “Dear God, please forgive me for I’m about to sin,” I whispered and then I used my right hand to make a cross over my heart.

  I rose and put on my heavy winter jacket, gloves, and a thick hat. Next, I slipped the 0.38 into my front coat pocket, and I checked myself in the mirror. I wanted to make sure no one could see the bulge of my gun through the thick fabric.

  Before I closed the front door to my apartment, I turned to take a final panoramic view of my apartment. I planned never to see this apartment again. I only lived there for four and a half months, but the short-time duration became filled with sweet memories of Yelena and me. If I never find Yelena, then I never want to step inside this cold, empty apartment again.

  As I walked outside, the wind howled as it blew the snow around. I could see in some places, the snow accumulated several inches.

  A thick smoky fog blanketed the whole city. I barely saw the outlines of buildings a block away. Most people used coal to heat their homes during the winter, and the dark coal smoke drifted towards the ground. I smelled a hint of sulfur from the coal smoke, and I coughed a little here and there as it suffocated my lungs.

  Then wouldn’t you know it. I was not even sure where I was walking and I happened to walk to the damn water fountain – the same fountain where I was supposed to meet Yelena three days ago.

  Memories began trickling up like lava flowing up and out of a volcano…

  …I was supposed to meet Yelena at the water fountain at 9 o’clock, but I was 10 minutes late. Few Bosnians trekked outside during the bitter cold and walked on the frozen streets as the coldness drove them inside. Few pedestrians walked along the streets and few drivers drove along the roads.

  But Yelena was not waiting at the fountain.

  Then I walked to the coffee shop. I peeked through the windows and saw patrons packed the café while the strong bass beat of the Bosnian folk music rattled the windows. A thick cover of smoke clung to the moist, stale air inside the coffee shop as bodies huddled to together for warmth, drinks, cigarettes.

  I walked into the café and approached the owner who stood behind the bar. He prepared several espressos as he stood behind the espresso machine.

  I screamed to be heard above the loud music, “Have you seen Yelena?” The manager could not speak English, but he recognized me. The patrons and owner at the café knew Yelena was dating me.

  “She went outside to wait for you,” the manager replied in Bosnian and pointed at the water fountain.

  “Thanks, I replied apologetically.

  I trotted to the water fountain and saw a thick tarp that covered the fountain, protecting it from the ice and snow. I scanned the plaza in all directions, searching desperately for my girlfriend. Then near one of the benches, I spotted a splotch of color. If I arrived a few minutes later, the falling snow would completely cover it. My heart began racing as I approached the buried object in the snow.

  I leaned over and picked it up. It was Yelena's light blue scarf with pink and yellow spots. She always wore it around her neck. As I lifted it to my nose, I smelled the faint scent of Chanel.

  I immediately shoved the scarf into my winter coat pocket and called Teah on my cell phone.

  Teah answered on the second ring.

  “Hello, Teah! Have you seen Yelena?” I yelled into the cell phone.

  “Who is this?”

  “Keith, Yelena’s boyfriend.”

  “Oh Keith. No, I haven’t seen her since noon. I know she planned to meet you at the fountain at nine,” Teah replied cheerfully.

  “I’m at the fountain now, and she’s not here. I found her scarf by a bench.”

  Teah shrilled, “Did you check in the café? Sometimes, she has to work over time.”

  “I was just there. Her manager pointed at the water fountain.”

  The shrills in Teah’s voice raised several octaves, and she replied, “Oh shit! I’ll be right there,” slamming the phone down with a thump.

  I sat on the cold bench and waited for Teah. She arrived fifteen minutes later, and we walked to Yelena’s work.

  Yelena’s boss was arguing with a group of young Bosnians, and the boss kept pointing to the bill, showing it to the group.

  Teah ran to him, stood on the tips of her toes, and whispered into his ear.

  Yelena’s boss, Emir, looked worried. He shouted for an employee to come and take over. He grabbed his coat and threw it on. Then we left the coffee shop and walked to the bench where I found the scarf. Then I pulled the scarf out of my pocket and pointed at the spot where I found it.

  We separated and searched the plaza for clues. Then we branched out into the neighborhoods looking for Yelena.

  After an hour of searching, we met at the fountain again. Everyone frowned and shook their heads back and forth. No one found her.

  We walked to the police station four blocks away. From outside, the police station looked in shambles. Serbian snipers shot at the building during the Bosnian War from the mountain peaks, and the concrete wall was pock-marked with numerous indents and chips covering the whole wall surface. The powerful rifle bullets didn’t penetrate through the solid walls. Unfortunately, the Bosnian government had little money, and the police department could never fix up their buildings. Sometimes, the government could not pay the police salaries.

  These bullet holes served as reminders of the Bosnian War, fueling the Bosnians’ hatred of the Serbs and Croats. Remnants of the war would not let the three races forget and forge peace.

  As we went inside, I saw electrical wires snaked along the outside of the walls, and large industrial staples held the wires in place. The paint peeled and flaked off the wall in many places while the floor looked dirty and grimy because no one washed it for at least a decade.

  Teah, Emir, and I stood in front of the counter in the police station. Yelena's boss, Emir, started, “Excuse me,” as he pounded the counter top.

  As the policemen’s heads turned, Emir continued, “I would like to report a missing person. Her name is Yelena Backovich, my employee.”

  “How long has she been missing?” the first cop asked as he sat at his desk behind a large stack of papers, lying in front of him. />
  Emir glanced at his watch and then replied, “Almost two hours.”

  The first cop squinted his eyes and crumpled his lips, and he snapped, “She has been only missing two hours? Well sir, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure she will turn up.”

  Teah interrupted, “Please sir. Yelena doesn’t run off like this. Her boyfriend found her scarf on the ground, near their meeting place.”

  For added emphasis, I pulled the scarf out of my pocket and held it up for the policemen to inspect.

  Teah continued pleading with the cops, “Please, couldn't you go outside and search for her?” Teah charmed the policemen. Usually, Bosnian men salivated all over themselves to help Teah, but her magic wasn’t working tonight with the police. Teah's pleas weren’t strong enough to lure the cops outside into the shivering hands of coldness.

  The second policeman jumped and jerked his head a little when Teah said 'outside.' He stared through the window, seeing the falling snow outside. Then he shivered as he curled his legs around a small electric heater. He wasn’t going outside into the coldness and leave the warmth of his desk.

  The first policeman continued, “Look! I know you’re concerned. I know she’ll turn up. Tuzla rarely sees any murders. Nobody has been kidnapped or disappeared since the end of the Bosnian War. Trust me, she’ll turn up.” The cop smiled when he said this, but his smile was insincere, like a defense attorney starting the opening arguments for a hopeless case.

  I clenched my teeth and slanted my eyes. Then I slapped the counter top with both hands. I screamed in English, “Look! My girlfriend is missing. Can’t you guys do your job?”

  Both policemen reached for their guns while they wrapped their hands around the gun handles.

  Teah said, “Keith, we must go.” Both Teah and Emir grabbed each hand and led me out of the police station.

  Teah, Emir, and I left the police station disappointed. We would have to search by ourselves, without the aid of the Bosnian police.

  I felt like I swallowed a large boulder and stomach acid gurgled to the back of my throat. I didn’t know why, but I suspected the university president, Damir, and his drivers had something to do with this. Who else could it be? Why would someone kidnap or harm Yelena? Yelena was a poor Serbian girl trapped in a poor country. She threatened no one.

  We stopped searching three hours later. We couldn’t find a trace of Yelena, except her scarf that I found by the bench near the water fountain.

  Next day, Teah and I searched for Yelena again. We met at the bench where I found Yelena’s scarf. We moved away from the bench in concentric circles, covering the plaza first. Then we walked between the buildings. We walked in silence.

  We scanned the ground, searching for clues, but the pedestrians and school children trampled and stomped on the fresh morning snow, erasing any traces.

  Yelena had disappeared without a trace. If I hadn’t found that scarf, it appeared as if Yelena never existed.

  After several hours, the harsh coldness forced Teah and me into a coffee shop. Teah ordered an espresso and I, a cappuccino.

  As we waited for our drinks, I began, “Did you tell Yelena's mom?”

  “After I went home last night, I called her. She broke into tears and became very hysterical. I’m going over there later in the day to comfort her.”

  I felt sullen and depressed, but continued, “Who would kidnap Yelena? Who would do such a thing?” I pounded my fists onto the table for emphasis.

  Teah jumped a little from the sharp noise.

  “Teah, do you know anything about the Bosnian University of Management?” I snapped. I didn’t ask a question about the university, but I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.

  “Not much. I know it’s several blocks from the center of town. It used to be a cinema. I heard it cost a lot of money to study there.”

  “Have you heard anything about the owner, Mr. Damir Kovacev?”

  “I never heard of him,” Teah replied, jerking her head in back and forth quickly.

  “Have you heard any rumors about Damir or the university or his drivers?”

  “I’m sorry Keith,” Teah replied softly, reaching for my hands, doing her best to soothe me, “I haven’t heard anything about the university. Only thing I heard was Damir was a war hero and a successful businessman.”

  “That’s it.”

  “I’m sorry Keith.”

  That boulder in my stomach grew larger, and I didn’t taste the coffee as I gulped it down. I noticed Teah’s hand trembled as she lifted her espresso cup to her lips…

  I jolted out of my memories. I pulled Yelena's scarf out of my pocket and took another whiff.

  I pocketed the scarf again and continued walking to the northern part of the city.

  I discovered only one clue. I found a house. That house must be keeping secrets. Maybe I will find Yelena there, and we can be together again.