Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The sun shone in through the window, and Anna's eyes opened in a flash. A grin slowly spread across her face and she leapt from her bed.

Skipping down into the dining room, she was greeted by her mother and father. Both were already dressed - she was sipping hot lemon tea, he was waving his fingers over a basket filled with croissants, taking a long time choosing which he wanted.

Anna sat down and nodded in thanks as she was handed a steaming hot cup of coffee.

'Mmm,' she said as she felt the warmth of the drink, setting it down in front of her almost empty.

'Good morning, Anna,' her mother said. Anna nodded at her, a small smile.

'Good morning,' Victor, her father, grinned. He took a bite of the thickest croissant and made a contented sigh. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Yes,' Anna lied. She looked at the time on her phone. It was nearing 8am.

She stood up in a flash, throwing the last few drops of coffee down her throat and racing back to her room. 

Anna dressed in what seemed like ten seconds. She didn't wear make up, the natural blush of her cheeks giving her a youthful glow.

Back downstairs, her parents were talking.

'And you're sure he's a changed man, are you?'

'He seems to be,' Victor licked jam from his lips. 'I guess we'll soon find out.'

'I don't want him influencing Anna,' Maria's mouth formed a thin line and she frowned. 'If he distracts her and leads her astray, I shall send him straight back to Paris.'

'Understood,' Victor nodded. 'But really, Masha, I do believe him when he say he has turned over a new leaf.'

'As you say,' Maria set her cup down on the saucer. She stood up just as Anna reentered. 

'Where are you off to, all in a hurry?' asked her father.

Anna raised her eyebrows in surprise. 'Don't you remember who's coming today?'

Deciding to humour his daughter, Victor asked, 'No. Who's coming?'

'Someone very special,' Anna beamed.

The train was coming from St. Petersburg. Hurtling down the tracks, two men were sat in two completely different carriages, both sharing the end destination. Zatonsk. 

One man, Pyotr Mironov, was Anna's uncle. Former alcoholic, medium, back from many years abroad. He had lived in France a while. Developed a drinking problem, and had finally overcome it. He drank now, sure, but he had it under control. Complete control...

Further along, another carriage, sat a man with a dark past and many skeletons.
Detective Yakov Platonovich Shtolman. 

On the platform, Anna was waiting with a racing heart and a curious mind. She hadn't seen her uncle for many years, and she had barely been a teenager the last time. Now, Anna was nineteen years old. Still as charming, still as headstrong... maybe more so, much to the dismay of her mother. She had grown into a beautiful young woman.

The train pulled up and people got off. Anna felt her fingers grip tighter around the two cups of takeaway coffee she had bought from the little cafe at the station. She hoped her uncle still drank coffee. Five years can change a person in many ways, so she wasn't sure.

Anna's eyes scanned, searching for him.

She saw a man coming into focus, wearing a black hat and walking with a black cane. She felt her lips part slightly as her eyes were transfixed. 

The man in black saw a vision standing by herself, eyes wide like a deer in lights. He saw the way her lips were opened ever so. She was glad he couldn't hear her heart rocketing inside her chest.

When he stopped a few feet in front of her, she lost control of her body. Her hands opened and the coffee cups both fell to the floor. The lids popped off and hot coffee splashed everywhere. The man in black had coffee all over his shoes, and a little on his trouser leg too. 

He slowly raised his eyes from his now stained clothes to her face.

Anna had frozen, cheeks flushing, eyes watering now.

'Miss, are you alright?'

His deep voice echoed in her ears a few moments before her trance was ended. She blinked hard and raised her eyes to meet his own. Eyes that were looking and investigating and wondering.

'I...' Anna gulped. She tried again. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what happened.'

'It seems you dropped your coffee,' he said stiffly. An eyebrow was raised, and Anna didn't know if it was a challenge or an attempt at a joke. Either way, he wasn't smiling.

Anna bent down to pick up the now empty cups, just as the man did the same. They came nose to nose, and as his eyes locked onto hers she was sure her cheeks were flaming.

She made some form of surprised noise, 'Oh!', and he quickly straightened up. A black leather gloved hand came down and she gently took it, feeling the ease in which he pulled her to her feet.

'Tell me, how do I get to the town centre?'

Anna had lived in this town her entire life. Right now she didn't know what that town was called, let alone directions how to get there.

He stared at her, wondering if she had heard him properly. He sighed and licked his lower lip.

'You can take a taxi out front.' A voice from behind called, and Anna finally saw her uncle.

'Thank you,' said the man in black, bowing his head slightly. He saw the other man grinning at the girl.

'Annette, my dear, hello.'

'Hello, uncle,' Anna smiled. She was so glad to see him.

'How lovely you came to greet me,' he said. He spotted the two empty cups, and the brown splashes on the man's shoes. His eyebrows knitted together, but he saw the look in his niece's eyes and didn't ask.

The man in black cleared his throat, and Pyotr looked at him.

'Thank you for the directions,' he said. He tipped his hat and began to walk away.

Anna saw the long black cane lying on the ground. When did he drop it? She wondered. She picked it up and strode after him.

'Wait,' she called. He stopped and turned his body halfway, looking back at her. 'You... this is yours.'

He didn't reply verbally, just nodded once and took it from her. She nodded her head at him, and he smirked and turned again, walking away.

Anna watched until he was out of sight, and then she made her way back to her uncle, who had been watching his niece with an amused and curious expression. He chuckled to himself when he had seen her touch the blonde curls at the side of her face.

'What happened with the coffee?' he asked. Anna took one of his bags from him and shrugged.

'I don't know,' she said truthfully. She remembered his eyes gazing into hers and she felt her cheeks flush again. 'Welcome home.'

'Has Zatonsk changed any?'

'Same old,' Anna chirped. They were at the front of the train station now, and Pyotr held his hand in the air for a taxi. 

'You have bloomed,' Pyotr said as he held the door open of the taxi. Anna slid in and he sat next to her. They gave the address to the driver and off they went.

'You make me sound like a flower,' Anna laughed. 

'And what a one you are,' he smoothed. 'How many hearts have you broken?'

'Would you believe it,' Anna said, 'not a single one.'

'I find that impossible,' he shook his head at her.

'Quite so,' Anna laughed. 'The men of Zatonsk are... shall we say... they leave a lot to be desired.'

'And your mother...'

'She still behaves as if we are living in the eighteen hundreds,' Anna said wickedly. 'I'm nineteen and single, and she acts like it's the worst fate for a girl my age.'

Pyotr clapped a hand to his mouth and laughed loud.

'I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to make me go to debutante balls,' Anna rolled her eyes and shuddered. She truly wouldn't put it past her mother at all.

'Thankfully, we are living in the twenty-first century now.' Her uncle winked and Anna grinned. She was already so much happier now he was home again.

Yakov Shtolman had arrived into the town centre, and was now outside the police station. Smaller than the one he had been used to in St. Petersburg, this was a shocking shade of yellow with blue shutters that looked old fashioned and fake. 

Walking inside, he heard men shouting and saw a man in handcuffs being led into a side room.

A man dressed in a white uniform looked up at him from a desk. 'How can I help you?'

'Tell the chief of police that Shtolman is here.'

The man in white nodded and went to fetch the chief of police.

Shtolman looked around and saw a smaller man sat behind his desk. He had an awful, thick moustache resting on his upper lip. He seemed frustrated, which was made apparent when he began yelling at the man he was questioning. 

Shtolman didn't interfere at first, just listened.

Something in the suspect's story didn't make sense, and the smaller man hadn't picked up on it.

'Why did the thief run into the street? He could jump out of the window and run into through the backyards.'

'What backyard, old man? The windows look out into a wall. It's a dead end.'

'How did you know it's a dead end?' Shtolman wondered if now the other man had worked it out. 'You told me you didn't go into the house.'

'Everyone knows it's a dead end,' the suspect huffed. 

'I'd advise you to check the bushes, where this man probably -'

'Who's this guy?' the suspect bit. 'Who put him in charge?'

'I'll ask you not to get involved,' said the smaller man.

Shtolman gave a nod of his head and looked out of the window, smiling. 'As you wish. Please, continue.'

This riled the other man up. 'I don't need your permission.'

The man in white returned and looked up at the visitor. 'The chief of police will see you now, sir. Please, this way.'

The chief of police was a lot older than Shtolman, with greyer hair and a thick walrus like moustache. He was facing out of the window when Shtolman entered the large office.

'Yakov Platonovich Shtolman,' he announced himself. 'An honour, sir.'

The chief of police turned fully and looked at the new man. 'Tell me, why did they send such a detective as you from the capital to our tiny little backwater town?'

A smile formed on Shtolman's face, and he was convinced enough that the old man believed it. 'I always dreamed of serving in the province. A city can only give you so much.'

'I hear different,' the chief of police said. He huffed. 'I have my own sources, you know.' Shtolman nodded, eyes following as the older man took a seat behind the big desk. 'However, you didn't kill anyone, and that's enough for me. I am aware of your career. Very impressive, I must say. You'll grow tired here.' Shtolman eyed the older man and watched as his wrinkled face formed a smile. 'This town may not be as flashy as the capital, but we have our fair share of tricky cases too.'

'Maybe I won't grow tired after all, sir,' Yakov replied, causing the chief of police to bellow with laughter.

'We shall see,' was all he said.

'I hope I live up to the expectations,' Shtolman said, seeing the chief of police rising to his feet and doing the same.

'This isn't my office, it's yours.' Shtolman blinked at him. 'Get settled in. And find yourself an assistant. There's many experienced folk here, just like yourself.'

'Can I talk to the young man outside?'

'Korobejnikov?' Shtolman gathered that was his name, and nodded. 'Hmm. He's a simple interrogation officer, only been with us a short while.'

'Still, if you don't mind.'

The chief of police wave his hand in the air. 'If you wish.' A final nod, and he left Shtolman alone in his new office.

Shtolman sat behind the desk and looked at the ground. He saw the splashes of coffee on his shoes and sighed, half smiling. He took a cloth and wiped the marks away. 

"You'll grow tired here."

He thought of earlier today, at the station, with that young thing and the coffee incident. Smiling, he heard a knock and saw the officer in white from earlier.

'Yevgrashin, sir.' Shtolman nodded at him to enter. 'Your luggage, sir.'

As Shtolman began unpacking his things, he wondered how he could possibly grow tired, with wild things like her about town.

Pyotr had been greeted by his brother and his wife, who had always held a certain distaste for him. He saw the look she shot him as he stepped out of the taxi, Anna following behind him and grinning from ear to ear.

'Brother, you're looking well.' Pyotr nodded his head.

'I feel well.'

'Let's go inside,' Victor clapped his younger brother on the back and the two gentlemen headed into the house. Anna went to bound after them, but her mother held her wrist and looked up at her with big eyes.

'Anna, I thought we could go shopping this afternoon,' she tried. She'd never had the closest relationship with her only daughter, and she feared the return of her favourite uncle would drive their wedge further. 'I saw the most beautiful dress in -'

'Maybe another time,' Anna said, not wanting to be unkind. 'I wanted to chat with uncle.'

'He's going to be living with us a while now,' Maria wished she could sound more pleased, for Anna's sake, but she couldn't. 'You have all the time in the world to chat with him.'

'And I've lived with you my entire life,' Anna sassed, beginning to walk away. 'Another time, I promise.'

It was a lovely warm day, and Pyotr had been sitting outside, reading a book. The bottle of vodka that had been hidden had been found, and he had helped himself to a small glass. Just a tiny one. And a few lemon slices, for good measure.

Anna strode over to him and read the title of the big brown book in his hands.

'Book of the Mediums'.

'Let's trade,' Anna said, taking the book from his hands. 'You can have this. It's addressed to you, anyway.'

'My angel,' Pyotr smiled. He laughed as Anna stole a lemon, bit into it and pulled a face.

'Why do people send letters in this day and age,' she laughed. 

'Indeed,' Pyotr wondered. He opened the letter and felt his heart sink and his throat go tight as he realised who had sent him the letter. Tatiana. 

Anna noticed the expression that had so quickly clouded his face. 'Bad news?'

'Just news,' Pyotr said absentmindedly. 'Silly things. Nonsense. Nothing for you to worry about.'

'Can I borrow this?' Anna held the book tight. 

Pyotr cocked his head to the side slightly. 'It interests you, this stuff?'

'Yes!' Anna breathed. 

Recently, she had started having visions again. They began when she had been a small child. She had seen the grandmother that had been dead many years, clear as day in the piano room. She had found an old necklace, and had taken it to her parents. When they asked her how she had found it, she told them her grandmother had showed her where to look. Victor and Maria had both been terrified, and tried to dismiss it as their child having a vastly overactive imagination. Pyotr on the other hand had been very curious and intrigued by his niece's revelation.

'You... you're having the visions again?' Anna nodded. She knew she could trust her uncle, and she knew if anyone would believe her, he would without a single doubt.

'Back then... well, I thought they were living people who came to me. But now I see them in my dreams.'

'You had one last night, didn't you?'

'Yes,' Anna nodded. She had told her parents she had slept well, but she had barely slept at all. A dream... nightmare, perhaps. 'Last night I had a dream that I drowned. And I said something truly scary. "Death is inevitable."' 

'What else did you - she - you say?'

'Nothing.'

'You didn't ask?'

'Why would I ask? I was dreaming, after all.'

'Anna, sometimes these things just happen.'

Anna nodded, and took another lemon. Biting it, pulling the same face, Pyotr laughed and tried not to think of the letter, or about anything sinister. He was back with his family again, and all he wanted to do in this moment was laugh with his niece in the sunshine.

At the police station, Shtolman had just finished hearing all of the previous jobs the smaller moustached man had held.

'You certainly have life experience. You know this place quite well, I take it?'

'I was born and raised here, sir,' he said. 'And I feel it my personal obligation to serve the law and to keep and uphold peace.'

'That's what I like to hear,' Shtolman said, nodding. 'Very commendable indeed. Let's work together. What was your name?'

'Anton Korobejnikov.'

'Well then Anton, help me with the luggage, won't you?' 

Not five minutes had passed when the officer in white, Yevgrashin, came running into the office, breathless.

'Sir, there's been a murder!'

Shtolman hadn't expected anything so serious so soon, but this was exactly what he had came here for, what he was trained in. He nodded at Anton, and the two of them set off in the police car.

A series of neighbouring barns awaited them. A crowd of villagers, women in headscarves and men in long stripy trousers, formed in a huddle around one particular barn. A few people had phones out, trying to take photos and videos.

'Get those damn things out of here now,' Shtolman said as he walked past them all. He eyed Anton, who ordered them again.

Shtolman was led by another officer in white to the body. A man with an axe wound to the back of his head. He looked around, eyes expertly scanning, and he found traces of blood on the windowsill. Outside was another barn. Many people in the crowd began shouting names at Shtolman, potential suspects maybe? 

'Anton?' The smaller man looked up at Shtolman. 'What do you see?'

Anton knew Shtolman was testing him, sizing up if he was a worthy partner or not. He wanted to impress Shtolman, the big city detective. 'I see... the victim, on his back, head towards the entrance of the barn. Attacked with an axe, and the attacker dropped the axe here.' He pointed. 'Which I find strange.' Shtolman gave the smallest nod of his head.

'There are no physical signs of a struggle, which means the attack was unexpected. Let's say the victim was standing on the porch facing out... there's blood spatter on the window, and the wall, which means...'

'The victim was facing the window with his back to the door,' Anton finished and Shtolman nodded. 

'He was hit from the outside.'

He asked the officer in white whose the opposite barn belonged to, and the crowd confirmed it to be a man named Vasily.

'Vasily,' the officer in white called. 'Vasily!'

The man named Vasily bolted, the officer chasing after him. Shtolman and Anton followed them.

Vasily was cornered, and soon the bloodied axe was found concealed in some bushes nearby the barn.

'Take him to the station,' Shtolman ordered, and Vasily was led away in handcuffs by the officer in white.

Satisfied they had got the criminal, Shtolman and Anton walked back to their car.

'Allow me to say,' Anton began, a little timidly, 'that was impressive back there. If I can ask... how did you work everything out so fast?'

'I'm just attentive,' Shtolman said seriously. 'Which is what I expect from you too.'

'I'll be happy to learn all I can from you, sir.'

'Upon leaving the body, the soul departs to the spiritual world it came from to continue its material existence after a certain period of time long or short, during which it has the form of a restless spirit. Since the soul must go through many reincarnations, it means that all of us have had many existences, and that we will all go through other incarnations on this Earth or in other worlds.'  

Anna had been like a sponge, taking in and absorbing every word that was in that book.

Her father had found out, and he wasn't too happy about it.

'She asked me for it,' Pyotr sighed. 'I didn't force it under her nose. She's interested.'

'You don't believe in all that rubbish?' Victor asked his brother.

'I do,' Pyotr said matter of factly. 'I practice it.'

'It's all hocus pocus,' Victor dismissed. He sat back in his chair, on the porch, and laughed, clapping his hands together. 'I do not want you getting Anna into this madness, do you hear?'

'You're her father, brother,' Pyotr said. 'If you wish to forbid her, go ahead. As for me, she asked, so I gave.' 

'Oh, of course,' Victor rose to his feet. 'Saint Pyotr the Great, Anna's cool uncle, back from your crazy times abroad to tell my innocent daughter of all this nonsense. You know exactly why I don't want her interest in this to grow...' Victor looked out across the garden and saw how his daughter was concentrating hard, eyebrows close together, eyes scanning. 'You remember how odd her behaviour was as a child.'

'She wasn't odd,' Pyotr defended. 'She had potential.' 

'Potential?!' Victor was red now. 'Don't you dare encourage these fantasies of hers. Do you know how hard we have tried to convince her that you cannot simply see a dead person as clear as you can see the living!'

'I didn't provoke her at all,' Pyotr argued. 'I just wasn't aware that I had to lock up my books like you locked up the liquor.'

'Apparently,' Victor said slowly, 'we have to hide both from now on.'

'What's wrong with spiritualism anyway?' Pyotr pressed. 'In Paris, it's all the rage.'

'Of course it is,' said Victor sarcastically. 'Everything is fashionable at least once in that damned city.'

Pyotr had bought presents for his family from Paris, and he had heard from Victor how much Anna adored bicycles. Not just any bicycles though, vintage ones with a wooden basket and an elegant frame. What better gift to give his beloved niece after a five year absence? He took Anna to the shop where he had ordered it to, and saw the excitement in her eyes.

'You bought this for me?' Anna gazed at him adoringly. Pyotr nodded and looked pleased with himself. Maybe this would get his brother off his back about the book a little, he thought sourly.

'It's been specially shipped from a boutique bicycle shop in the heart of dear old Paris just for you.'

'Uncle, I love it!' Anna hugged him and almost crashed into the shop owner as she wheeled it outside. 'And I love you!'

'Anna, where are you going?' he called, but she had already gone.

A faint, 'To test it out!' echoed back to him, and he shook his head and smirked at the old shop keeper.

Anna had always been a free spirit, and as she whizzed around the town on this bike, she felt even more so. She could ride a bike since she was a child, but she'd never had a bike quite like this before. It moved like it was alive, and Anna thought back to her childhood, one with ghosts and spooks and not so many friends. She had bikes growing up, and had always pretended they were some magical creature like a dragon or a unicorn. This one gave her a similar feeling.

Turning the corner, she was approaching the police station. She was going fast, too fast, and she had to swerve to stop herself from crashing into someone.

Shtolman had quick reflexes and was agile, so he managed to dart out of the way of the human hurricane just in time.

'Excuse me!' Anna called. She turned her head to look at him, not paying attention to what was ahead of her, and she crashed the bike into the nearby wall. It fell to the floor but she was looking at him. The man from the station.

She felt a strange sensation wash over her and she had another vision. The man, walking with his black hat and cane, in a darkened room with a stained glass window...

Anna blinked herself out of it and saw he was staring at her, another challenging look on his brow. They held each other's gaze a moment, and then he shook his head at her and walked away. Once more, her eyes were unable to take themselves away from him. When he had gone, she fluffed the side of her hair, feeling that all too familiar now flush of her cheeks.

The bike hadn't been damaged thankfully, and Anna didn't see the need to tell her uncle that she had almost ruined it moments after receiving it.

It was late evening now, and Anna and her uncle were in the taxi. Pyotr was nervous, apprehensive, and Anna was simply buzzing with excitement.

Her first proper seance. 

'You must not tell your parents,' Pyotr said as they got out of the taxi and walked towards the big manor house.

'I don't have a death wish for either of us tonight,' Anna shook her head. She linked arms with her uncle and beamed up at him. 'Thank you for letting me come with you!'

When they entered the main room, a group of others were already inside. The lights were dimmed, the wine flowing.

'Here is our magician.'

'Just a medium,' Pyotr dismissed. 'That is all. This is my niece, Anna.'

Anna smiled at the few who had now gathered around them. 

'This is Lady Gromova, and this is Mr. Semyonov, the poet. This is the painter, Mr. Mazaev.' 

'How is Paris?'

'Paris is Paris,' Pyotr smiled. 'Beautiful as always.'

They all exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then the evening began.

They all sat round a rather grand round table. 

'Please turn the lights off, and everyone switch off your mobile phones. Not silent mode. Off.' Pyotr waited while they all turned off their phones. 'A medium has a very unique skill. Of course there are people who don't believe in this, who think it's all cheap tricks, smoke and mirrors and extensive prior research... but a medium can connect two worlds together. A medium exists as a bridge between the living world, ours, and the other world.'

Everyone around the table was hanging on to Pyotr's every word, nobody more than Anna who was sat to his right.

'Let's get on with it already,' said Lady Gromova. 'I don't like this one bit.'

'It's just a trick,' the painter said. 'Sorry Pyotr, but I just don't believe.'

'As is your right,' Pyotr said. He saw Anna smile out the corner of his eye.

'Don't you need one of those wooden boards?' asked the poet.

'Not always,' Pyotr explained. 'There are many different types and ways to practice.'

'So be it. Whose spirit should we call?'

'Maria Lenorman,' the woman called Tatiana, who was sat opposite Pyotr, said.

'And what should we ask her?' Pyotr asked.

'Whether or not the wish I made today will come true.' Tatiana answered before anyone else could even draw breath. Anna noticed the way she was looking at her uncle. 

'Who is Marie Lenorman?' asked Lady Gromova.

'A French physic,' said the painter. 

'I must ask that we all hold hands,' Pyotr said, holding his own two out either side of him, gesturing for the others to do the same. Anna smiled as she felt her uncle hold her own hand tighter. A deafening silence fell, and Pyotr waited a moment.

'Spirit of Marie Lenorman, show yourself to us. Spirit of Marie Lenorman, show yourself to us.' Nothing. 'Spirit of Marie Lenorman, show yourself to us. Spirit -'

All of a sudden, Pyotr began to shake violently, his eyes squeezed shut.

A cold wind blew Anna's hair around her face, and slowly she turned her head.

Standing in between Lady Gromova and Tatiana was a deathly pale young woman who was soaked from head to toe. 'Death is inevitable.'

Anna knew that none of the other guests could see this figure.

'Your wish,' Pyotr now spoke, eyes not blinking but instead fixed on Tatiana. 'Your wish will not come true. We are all mortal, and so are you. You are no exception. You will die. Death is inevitable.'

Anna hadn't taken her eyes off the soaked girl, who was still staring right at her. 

Pyotr began to shake again, and Tatiana's husband had had enough. He stood up, breaking their chain of hands, and stormed off. Lady Gromova was next, and the poet exclaimed how much like a musical theatre experience the whole event had been. 

Pyotr came to and wondered what he had said. He stood up, and turned his head to Anna. She stumbled, then collapsed, eyes closed.

'Anna!'

Pyotr took her outside to get some fresh air, and they were followed by Tatiana and Lady Gromova.

'What did she say to you?' Pyotr asked.

'You foretold my death,' Tatiana said sadly. 

'Oh no, not you... Tatiana, please, let's talk a moment...'

'Are you happy your uncle has returned, Anna?' Lady Gromova asked as she watched Pyotr lead Tatiana away by her elbow.

'Of course.'

In the taxi back home, Anna wondered how the talk had gone with Tatiana.

'It didn't,' he said with a sad smile. 'I tried to explain but she didn't believe me.'

'Why did you come back without her?'

'She wanted to be alone, and she told me to go away,' Pyotr said.

'Did you see her, too?' Pyotr raised an eyebrow. 'The girl.'

'What girl?' Anna sighed and looked disappointed.

'I knew you didn't see her. She came. During the seance. I saw her again.'

Shtolman's first day had been long and not without drama. Coffee girl, the murder, Anton as his new work partner... he was rather glad it was ending.

Finding the photo, Shtolman sat at his desk and looked at her. Nina.

The photos of her had already been deleted from his phone long ago, but this physical copy had been burning him too long. He lit it at his desk and watched until it was just ashes.

Anna and Pyotr had arrived home, tiptoeing so they didn't get caught.

Pyotr went to say goodnight, to go to bed, but Anna had different ideas.

'Let's call her again, together.'

'Anna, no...'

'I won't be able to sleep until we talk to her, together.'

'I will call her,' Pyotr gave in. They sat in a dark room together, lighting a few candles. Pyotr tried to call her three times, and each time nothing happened.

'Let me,' Anna said. She closed her eyes and called the spirit. She felt that cold wind, and in a flash her eyes were open and staring at the drowned girl.

Anna felt a strange sensation as she saw a flashback: the drowned woman was laughing and smiling with a man... her uncle! He kissed her hand, and the next moment she was lying face down in the river.

'Uncle... what happened to her?'

'I'm so sorry for getting you involved in all of this, Anna,' Pyotr was truly sad. Maybe his brother had been right after all. 'Your gift... it surprises me.'

'I won't leave you,' Anna said, gently taking a hand into her own. 'Who is she? What happened to her?'

'I can't do this tonight,' he said. 'Let's talk about it another time.'

Anna woke up and felt the book still in her hands from where she had fallen asleep reading it last night.

"In order to call the spirit of a drowned person, one needs to go to the river and submerge a mirror in the water. You will see the spirit you are trying to call in the reflection."

Anna had left the house as stealthily as possible, gone before her parents had come down for breakfast.

She scanned the area to make sure the coast was clear, then she hurried down to the water. She knelt near the edge and took out her mirror, placing it in the water.

'Spirit of - aahhhhh!' Something had just floated up and touched her hand. She looked with wide eyes as she saw a person floating... it was Tatiana! Anna screamed again, dropping her mirror in fright. She ran up the bank and ran away.

Soon after, Shtolman and Anton had arrived on the scene. 

'She was the wife of the factory owner here,' Anton explained. They watched as her face was zipped up in the body bag. 'Pretty... such a shame. Five years ago, another young woman drowned herself at the bridge. Because of love.'

'Anton, look at the bank carefully,' Shtolman ordered.

'Am I looking for something in particular?'

'I'm not sure yet,' Shtolman said. 'Maybe the victim dropped something. Or we will find some suspicious footprints.'

'Suspicious?' repeated Anton. 'But she... she killed herself.'

'Who decided that? That has yet to be neither confirmed nor denied. We need to first find out where she fell exactly.'  

'Understood sir,' Anton said before heading off. Shtolman's eyes followed him, up the bank, and then a look of surprise on his face.

It was her.

'You too,' he said to the officer in white. 'Go upstream. Looks like she spent a few hours in the water. See if you can find out the speed of the stream, and the exact place where she fell into it.'

'Yes sir. Follow me.' A few of the officers left.

Shtolman once again looked up and saw her still standing there, staring. 

Anna noticed him looking and went to sit on her bike and ride away.

'Young lady!' Shtolman made quick work of the stairs and walked over to her. 'So you're the one who found the body?' Anna nodded. 'They told me it was a lady on wheels.'

'Yes it was me,' Anna said, staring at him hard. 'My name is Anna Viktorovna Mironova.'

'Yakov Platonovich Shtolman.' Anna finally knew his name. She wanted to smile, but given the situation she didn't. 'Did you know the victim?'

'Yes we knew each other. We were at a dinner party together just last night.'

'You saw her last night? Was that the last time you saw her?'

'I didn't see her after then,' Anna said, noticing the quizzical look on his face.

'How did she seem? Did she say or do anything out of character or - or strange?'

'No, nothing.'

'When did you go your separate ways home?'

'Not late,' Anna said, 'around nine thirty.'

'Very well,' Shtolman said. 'How's the bicycle?'

'It'll survive,' Anna grinned as she patted the handlebars. 'I'm sorry.'

'You were quite something on that thing,' Shtolman said, and he wondered why. He was smiling at her.

'As were you,' Anna smiled. She realised what she had just said made no sense to him whatsoever, so she pulled a face and he saw. Her face suddenly became blank and she stumbled.

Shtolman reached out a strong hand to catch her, holding her steady. 

'Are you feeling alright?'

'Yes, I'm fine.'

'I'm not going to keep you any longer today,' he said. 'If I have more questions for you, I'll find you.'

'My father is the lawyer, Mironov. Ask anyone for directions,' Anna raised her eyes to him and a smirk flittered on her lips. 'They'll tell you how to get to my home.' Shtolman nodded, a smile still on his own lips.

'Should I walk with you?'

'What?'

'Or send a police officer with you,' Shtolman quickly countered. 'For your own safety. There's a killer out there, after all.' Shtolman doubted very much that this one would need protecting.

'No thank you,' Anna shook her head.

Shtolman looked at the bicycle and remembered how only yesterday he had almost been sent flying by it. She was like a hurricane and he could already feel her pulling him in. 'Are you sure you'll get there on that thing?' He was practically grinning at her now. Anna returned the smile before walking away.

He was the one to look at her until she had gone this time. He felt himself take a step when he was interrupted by the return of Anton.

'The local boys are now on this search,' Anton informed, breathless. Had he been running? His face was red. 'They found this on the bank.' Shtolman looked what was handed to him.

A small round mirror. Turning it in his hand, he saw an engraving.

"To Anna Mironova."