Page 25 of The Case of the Missing Dancer

I looked around for Robert and found him coordinating with the fire brigade and his constables. When he saw me, relief flooded his face.

"Catherine! When I heard the fire alarm, and you were nowhere to be found . . .”

"I'm fine," I said quietly. "Is it really over?"

“Completely,” Robert replied. “We have Volkov in custody. He tried to escape through the basement but ran straight into my men. We also arrested four of his associates. But we still need to locate where Miss Petrova hid the original evidence. Everything we’ve recovered so far are duplicates.”

“Well,” I said, glancing toward the figure huddled nearby, “she’s right here now. Why don’t we ask her?”

Together we approached Anya. She was still sitting to the side, wrapped in a theatre blanket, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but alert.

“Miss Petrova,” I said gently, “this is Chief Detective Inspector Crawford Sinclair from Scotland Yard. He’s been leading the investigation into your uncle’s activities. We found the envelope you gave to Mr. Pemberton and the items hidden in your dressing room. But they’re copies. We need to know where you placed the originals.”

She nodded slowly. “In a trunk, here in the theatre. The one where they store the costumes fromThe Pharaoh’s Daughter. Ask the costume mistress. She’ll know which one I mean.”

“Thank you,” Robert said. “You were very brave to have done this.”

Anya looked down at her hands. “I wasn’t the brave one. A friend from the émigré community helped gather that evidence. He paid for that act of bravery with his life.”

A hush settled between Robert and me as the weight of what had been lost lingered in the silence. But even in that stillness, questions remained—unanswered and urgent.

Taking Robert aside, I asked, “What about Cooper? He tampered with the rigging. Anya could have been killed.”

His jaw tightened. “He’ll face charges—attempted murder, most likely. But the Crown Prosecution Service will take everything into account. His daughter’s kidnapping and any testimony he provides against Volkov.”

I nodded slowly. The law would do what it must. But in the end, so much of this had come down to fear, desperation, and choices made in the dark.

At least now,” I said quietly, “Volkov will finally face justice.”

Robert gave a grim nod. “Enough to put a rope around his neck. No one at the Yard will lose sleep over it.”

"And Anya?"

"Free to start a new life wherever she chooses. The evidence she preserved will give us everything we need to protect the Russian émigré community from this kind of predation."

As the first light of dawn filtered through the theatre's tall windows, I felt the exhaustion of the past week finally catching up with me. The case was closed, justice had been served, and most importantly, a brave young woman was free to live her life without fear.

"The company will continue withThe Firebird," Monsieur LeClair said, appearing beside us with renewed energy despite the night's chaos. “Not tonight, of course, but next week. Anya has agreed to remain with us now that the danger is past." He beamed at his star performer. "London audiences will finally see the performance they deserve."

Anya nodded, still wrapped in her blanket but looking hopeful. "I think I would like to stay in London," she said softly. "This city has given me a new friend who has risked her life for mine.” She gazed at me as she said that. “And as you have reminded me, I have many friends who care for me. That is worth more than any escape to America."

Robert, standing beside me, looked worn but quietly satisfied. “Darling, I think it’s time to get you home. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one case.”

I didn't argue. As he took my arm, I leaned gratefully against his solid presence.

After bidding goodnight to LeClair and Anya, we walked out of the theatre into the crisp London morning. "Thank you," I said quietly as we reached his automobile.

"For what?"

"For trusting me to see this through. For not demanding I stay safe when someone else's life was at stake."

He stopped and turned to face me, his hands gentle on my shoulders. "Catherine Worthington, you are the most remarkable woman I've ever known. I wouldn't dream of demanding such a thing. I’d rather stand beside you and face whatever comes."

And with that, he kissed me softly in the morning light, sealing not just the end of our most dangerous case, but the promise of whatever adventures lay ahead.