The girl went to her mother’s grave several times, tended to it, and brought flowers. Each time she would sit on the bench nearby for a long time, telling her mom about her life, about what was happening in the city, sharing her doubts and fears. And each time she would look around carefully: would she notice anyone suspicious who might be watching her? But the cemetery was quiet and deserted, only occasionally did she encounter other visitors, lost in their own grief.
Working at the café helped to distract her a little from her sad thoughts. The owner, Marina Bublikova, a kind woman in her forties with a gentle character and an understanding of human problems, tried to support Anna as best she could:
— Don’t torture yourself, girl. Your mother was a wonderful person, and she wouldn’t want to see you so sad. You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you. You’ll get into university, find your happiness.
Marina often told Anna how well she knew her mother, how much she respected her.
— Angelina Vladimirovna was a special person, — she would say, setting the tables for the café’s opening. — So intelligent, well-read. When she came to visit us, she always asked how we were doing, what was new. And she spoke about you with such pride. ‘My Anechka is the best student in her class,’ she would say, ‘she’s planning to go to university to become a language and literature teacher.’ It was clear that you were the meaning of her whole life.
Anna would nod, thank her for her concern, but inside she was burning with longing and uncertainty. She applied to the pedagogical institute for the faculty of language and literature, wanting to become a teacher, just as she had planned with her mother. But now it seemed so distant and unreal. How could she study when there was such emptiness inside? How could she make plans when the most precious person was no longer by her side?
In early July, a strange incident occurred. Anna was returning from work late in the evening when it was already dark outside. Walking past the city park, she noticed that someone was following her. Turning around, she saw a middle-aged man in dark clothes. He was walking at a distance, but when she quickened her pace, he also sped up.
Anna’s heart began to beat faster. She turned down another street, but the man followed her. Then the girl quickly walked to the nearest 24-hour store and went inside. Through the window, she saw the stranger stand by the entrance for a bit, and then leave.
“I must have imagined it,” Anna convinced herself. “Just a coincidence. Who would be interested in me?”
But the next day, as she was walking to the café, she noticed the same man again. He was standing near the bus stop and seemed to be watching her. This time, Anna resolutely approached him:
— Excuse me, are you looking for me?
The man got flustered, mumbled something unintelligible, and quickly walked away. Anna didn’t understand what that was, but an unpleasant feeling remained.
A few days later, an unfamiliar elderly man came into her café. He ordered a coffee, sat at a table for a long time, occasionally glancing at Anna. Finally, he approached the counter:
— Excuse me, are you Anna Sotnikova?
— Yes, – the girl answered cautiously. – And who are you?
— My name is Igor Nikolaevich Chernov. I am a private detective. I’m working on an old case for a client who has been looking for the Sotnikov family for many years. May I speak with you?
Everything inside Anna tightened. A detective? Who could be looking for her and her mother? And why?
— What do you want to talk about? — she asked carefully.
— It concerns your family. It would be better to talk in private. Could we meet after your work?
Anna was at a loss. On one hand, her curiosity was gnawing at her: who was looking for them and why? On the other hand, it was scary. Her mother had always taught her to be cautious with strangers.
— I don’t know, – she said uncertainly. – Mom never said anyone was looking for us.
— I understand your doubts, – Chernov said gently. – But believe me, my client has the kindest intentions. He has been looking for you for almost 17 years.
But Anna was adamant:
— No, I’m sorry. I’m not ready to meet with anyone.
The detective nodded, left his business card on the table, and left. Anna stared at the card for a long time, thinking. It read: “Igor Nikolaevich Chernov. Private Detective. License 2847.”
In the evening at home, she told Aunt Valya about the meeting. The older woman frowned seriously:
— This is all strange, Anya. Your mother never mentioned having any debts or obligations. And besides, why would someone look for you through a detective when they could just write or call?
— Maybe it’s related to my dad? – Anna suggested. — Mom said he died, but what if…
— Don’t overthink it, girl. Maybe it’s a mistake? The surname Sotnikov is not that rare.
But Anna couldn’t calm down. In the following days, she noticed Chernov several times near the café or her house. He didn’t approach, but it was clear he was watching her.
In July, with only a week left until the appointed date, Anna made a final decision—she would go to the cemetery. Maybe her mother’s mysterious friend could also explain this strange situation with the detective. Curiosity and the hope of learning something new about her mother overcame her fear and doubts.
July 15th was a clear and warm day. Anna specifically took the day off from the café, explaining to Marina Bublikova that she needed to visit her mother’s grave. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. By two in the afternoon, she was already at the cemetery….
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