"We are looking for whoever did this," I said and I opened the folder.
I turned over the photo of the severed head. He looked at it without touching it. His level of attention was eerily similar to the way he looked at me.
"Yes, I know the artist," he said. "What is this worth to you?"
"We can offer you some changes in your situation here. This facility has contracts for several skilled trades. And we can also testify to your parole hearing," Katherine said.
He laughed at this. The sound was chilling in its honesty but not wholly unpleasant.
"You will both be retired when I have my first parole hearing."
He was right about that. Even with the sweetheart deal the OCD offered him, he wasn't eligible for parole for another fifteen years.
"We're wasting our time," Katherine said standing up.
I locked eyes with Petrov again. My instinct told me there was a key I could turn and he'd open up. Something about him told me that he wanted to talk to us. That he didn't give a damn about the honor rules of the Bratva.
"Wait," I told Katherine. "Let's hear him out."
I sat down across the table from him. I picked up the photo and showed it to him again.
"Do you know who this is?"
"Alyonna Fadeyeva," he said. "Boris Vasilievich Fadeyev's daughter."
"Who would put a hit on her?" I asked.
"Did you ask her father?"
"He's not talking."
His eyebrows twitched and a smile played on his lips, saying 'Of course he's not talking'.
"She was a sweet girl," he said in a cold, emotionless voice. His usually subtle accent became a little more pronounced as he went on. "She was going to the conservatory. Learning to play the violin. Fadeyev kept her away from this world."
That confirmed witness testimonies. Boris Fadeyev kept his princess away from the dark empire he was ruling.
"Did you find her bodyguards?" he asked.
We hadn't found any other victims. The head had been mailed to our precinct. The murder scene was the girl's apartment, but it had been cleaned by professionals. The traces of blood we found were too corrupted to get any information. We knew there had been a bloodbath but we couldn't tell if one or ten people had been killed there.
I shook my head. "Who were her bodyguards?" I asked him.
He looked at me, and said two names in a casual tone. Katherine wrote them while I maintain eye contact with him. I wasn't trying to stare him down and he wasn't trying to intimidate me. It felt strangely intimate, like we were trying to learn more about each other.
When we ran out of questions, I thanked him. He received the words with the same emotionless but inquisitive stare.
"We'll talk to the warden after we verify what you told us," Katherine said.
I stood up and followed her to the door.
"Detective Woods," he said. "I'd like a word with you. In private."
Katherine and I exchanged glances. She didn't know what to make of his request, but I was curious. I couldn't help wondering about him and Skye and I hoped that if we were alone I might understand more. We didn't have to talk to get the messages across.
'Be careful with this guy'
'I will.'
She gave me a short nod to acknowledge my choice. "I'll wait outside."
I sat back down expecting his ice blue eyes to stare back into mine. He looked at me again, and I had a feeling he was looking at my clothes as if I wasn't even in them. He was not acting precisely like the sociopath I expected him to be. His earlier cooperation had been unusual and I had a feeling that everything he told us was going to check out. He was not the fanatic Bratva soldier he should have been.
"So, the famous Nicholas Woods asked for my help," he said, looking me up and down. "I can't understand what she saw in you."
I didn't have to ask who. I didn't want him to say Skye's name.
"What do you mean?"
"I know you're the guy Joanna's been sneaking out to fuck."
I wanted to deny it, but this conversation was off record. And I was itching with curiosity to know more.
"Why do you think so?"
He shrugged his massive shoulders and a shadow of pain passed over his features.
"I followed her one night. She made a pass at me in the club, then she pushed me away. So, when she left, all hot and bothered, I was curious who rocked her world."
His gaze got lost in the middle distance, and it took a few moments until he snapped back to reality.
"I saw her go into your house. And I waited until I saw her get out about an hour later. You must be a beast in bed. She had more trouble walking out of the house than she did when she went in. Whatever you did to her, she wasn't thinking straight. She didn’t notice me although I got very close to her. That was unusual for someone with her ring awareness."
"When did you find out who I was?" I asked.
"The day after that. That's why I laughed when you showed up to arrest me. You didn't seem like the kind of guy my Joanna would go for. She is dark and intense and you were just this… suit."
My Joanna. How much was she his Joanna?
"Why didn't you say anything?"
He shrugged again. "Why would I bother?"
He had a point. He had a good deal with the OCD, why bother telling anyone?
"Was that all you wanted? To tell me that you know?"
"No."
He paused. "I found out that she was a cop at Fadeyev's trial."
Another pause.
"I want to know her name."
Her name was public record, but it felt wrong to tell him. He could ask his lawyer for the transcripts of the trial. The very fact that he was asking me made it feel like a deal with the devil. In a perverse way, I felt that he deserved to know. And it felt that I owed it to Skye to tell him her real name.
"Detective Walker," I said, settling for surname and title.
Chapter 15 - Los Angeles
Petrov's information led us to a contract killer currently held by the Los Angeles Police Department on unrelated charges. We got in touch with them to hold on to him and I booked the next flight there. Katherine stayed in New York to pursue another line of investigation. It was the second time in a few months that I worked without her and I felt again the same low level panic coursed through me.
When I packed my luggage, I wondered if I should tell Skye that I was coming. It had been almost three weeks since her last call, and I was relieved that she still hadn't called. She always asked about my cases, and I didn't want to lie to her, but I didn't want to tell her I was going to be in Los Angeles. I didn't think I'd be able to handle seeing her. I switched off my phone on the plane, and I left it off. I'd be at the Police Station and anyone who needed me could reach me there.
LA was under a heat wave as bad as any New York got sometimes in the middle of the summer, but the here it seemed hotter and impossibly bright. The uneasiness dissipated as soon as I walked into the Police Station.
I didn't have much leverage against the killer, but I used what Petrov told us about his methods to get into his head. It worked, but when I left the interrogation room I was drained.
"Hi," Skye said.
She stood a few feet away, with the bright smile I haven't seen on her face in months. The blinding white of her shirt accentuated the tan. Her cheekbones were still sharp and the soft curve of her hips was still absent. In the darkness of my nights, I sometimes recalled watching "Sophia" in her yoga pants, and my hands burned with the same desire to feel her flesh.
"Hello," I said, not knowing how to address her. I used to call her Skye, but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable.
"Can I take you to lunch?"
I thought about filing my report. I had to call Katherine with an update. But most of all I didn't want her to take me to lunch as you took an out of town colleague.
"I still have some paperwork."
"I'll wait," she said.
"No, I couldn't ask you
to-"
"You didn't ask. Loosen up, Woods. It's just lunch."
That did not help me to loosen up. I used the routine of writing my report, filing documents, and checking in with Katherine to prepare myself for our non-date.
We ran out of work related issues halfway through lunch. I saw her squirm under the weight of silence. I didn't feel inclined to help her. The interrogation I had just finished had taken its toll on me. She spoke to cover the awkward pause in the conversation.
"You look exhausted."
The words came out worse than she expected. She blushed but I smiled.
"It's a step up from awful," I said thinking of her first words to me after they had removed the bandage from her eyes. To my surprise, she looked even more uncomfortable.
"I planned on visiting my parents this week. My department psychologist says that I should reconnect more with the places that give me strength."
She sounded apologetic and insecure. My heart shrunk at the rejection, but I refused to let her see it. It hurt and it pleased me to see her brush off the darkness. She belonged in this sunny place, with flip flops and bright colors.
"There's an exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art I wanted to visit this weekend," I said. "And I have a friend at CalSci who helped me with some cases. I promised we'd meet up if I'm ever in LA."
I expected to see traces of concealed relief on her features, not that crease between her eyes and the sparkle of tears in her eyes.
"Oh," she said. "I, I… umm."
"I'm a big boy, Skye. You don't have to keep me company just because I'm visiting. You'd make me feel bad about not showing you anything worth seeing in New York."
I tried to sound light but her reaction had caught me off guard. She couldn't still not know how she felt about me. She had to have accepted that I was her sex toy, no feelings attached. If she wanted to go up to my room, I'd oblige without as much as a whisper about how I felt about her. I had resigned myself to my role in her life. She was a practical minded person, surely, she had accepted her kink in what was otherwise a nice, vanilla sexuality.
"It's not that," she said. Her voice sounded more resolute this time as if something was decided inside her. "An Art Museum and CalSci are fascinating places, for nerds," she added in a mock-whisper, "but there is no place like Magnolia Grove to recharge your batteries. I don't want to be your guide in Los Angeles, I want to show you my California."
And that was all it took for me to give up an interesting evening at the museum and a much anticipated conversation with a man who helped me put away murders from his high tech lab. I called Katherine and told her I needed a week off. I had plenty of vacation days left, and we had just closed the big Russian case. She didn't ask for details, but the tone of her voice told me she thought I needed a vacation.
I checked out of the hotel and a few hours later, I was in her car, with my travelling bag in her trunk. I hadn't prepared for anything other than work in Los Angeles, expecting to be there for one week. From the only two suits I had, I chose the lightest and I put on a white shirt for the road. I thought I did a decent job of adapting to the environment until I was greeted with a snigger from Skye.
"My brother is going to make so much fun of you," she said.
"What, you mean Inigo?" I said. It would be fun to see how much I could annoy her elder brother.
"Oh, yeah, you make sure to call him that. He's going to looooove that."
I smiled back at her. She was wearing red flip flops, white Capri pants, and a loose top with alternating white and navy blue horizontal stripes. Her hair was held back from her face with a colorful scarf which, along with her large sunglasses gave the whole outfit a strong retro vibe. I couldn't see in her anything of the girl with haunted eyes and smudged makeup who came apart in my bed. She was once again the bright sunshiny girl whom I wanted to protect and worship from afar.
Skye drove slowly through the idyllic scenery of Southern California in her vintage convertible. Her body was tense and she was alert to traffic, but this was as close to seeing her relaxed as I ever had. The difference in her demeanor from her latest New York visit was remarkable. I still felt her inner spring coiled tightly inside her, but the darkness had faded away. The colorful scarf tied in her honey blonde hair fluttered in the wind.
Her hair had grown down to her shoulder blades again, its shade had softened, lightened by the sun. I observed the muscle definition under the toned skin of her arms as she reached for the car stereo to choose the music for our ride. I was used to Katherine driving, and her tastes in music. I was used to conversation while moving from our station to a murder scene or chasing leads. The silence between us was eerie.
I hadn't prepared myself for seeing her again. The case brought me to LA and I hadn't had any intention to meet up with her. When she showed up outside the interrogation room the day before, I was surprised and pleased and maybe deep inside my want for her made me hope for sex, but I never took for granted that it would happen. I didn't do anything to let her know how much I wanted her. I hadn't done anything in New York either, and it always happened, so maybe the part of me that hoped was somewhat entitled to feel that way. What I did not expect was her offer to spend a week with her at her parents' house. I felt uncomfortable to suspect that she did it because of some sense of duty. As if she owed it to me to take me to her childhood home because she had used my childhood home to exorcise her demons.
This entire evening did not feel real. The smell of the sea and magnolias wafted in the car and made everything feel dreamlike.
Chapter 16 - Meet the Walkers
My first thought when I shook Noah Walker's hand was that the man was in far better shape than me. He was almost as tall as me, but that was where the similarities ended. Noah was tanned, with some fine lines at the corners of his eyes that only appeared when he smiled. His thick dark blonde hair didn't show any traces of white, and because he opened the door bare chested, I could see abs more clearly defined than I had when I was in the Army twenty years earlier.
Eve Walker had light brown hair cascading on her shoulders and a smile that lit up the room. She radiated calm and joy. Her warmth drew me in instantly. She was exactly the kind of woman I wished I had been married to for the past twenty years.
Jack Inigo Walker was shorter than his father, but his features showed the same openness and inner strength. His hair was the same shade as Eve's and probably as long as hers. He kept it tied in a loose ponytail. He shook my hand and looked me up and down the same way his sister had done when she picked me up.
"Dude, you must be dying in that."
That was far more polite than what Skye had warned me.
"I only have my work clothes, and I didn't get a chance to shop."
"I'll get you some of Noah's," Eve said. "You two are about the same size."
I caught the expression on Skye's face out the corner of my eye. I couldn't see if she blushed under that deep tan, but her mother's comment touched on something we both held very secret.
"It's kind of you to say so, but I'm not sure they'd fit."
I had lost some of the stress weight I gained during Skye's mission but I was nowhere near as fit as Noah. Eve waved away the comment and signaled me to follow her.
"Come on, we'll find something."
I expected this to be a trick to get me alone. To question me about things she wouldn't discuss with everyone present. We walked through the large rooms and hallways of their Spanish style villa. It felt like I was on the set of a Zorro movie. I never imagined people actually lived like this. I waited patiently for her questions, but they never came. I leaned on the doorframe and she opened the drawers of a large wooden chest. T-shirts and short sports pants neatly folded in the drawer. She took out a white t-shirt and held it in front of me to see if it would fit. I straightened up and she put it over my chest, aligning it with my shoulders.
"We need a bigger boat," she said and went back to the drawer.
She took one a n
avy-blue t-shirt with LAPD written on it, which turned out to be too short. The third one looked ok. It had a big yellow smiley face and a drop of something that could be blood or ketchup. The first pair of short cargo pants she gave me looked ok.
"Thank you," I said.
Her polite smile also touched her eyes.
"Let me show you to your room so you can try them on. Tell me if they're not ok and I'll look for something else."
The house was large, with long corridors and tall ceilinged rooms. Eve closed the door, leaving me alone in my room. The citrusy scent in the room did not come from any air fresheners, it wafted through the open window. In front of the window was a small desk, and next to it I saw my carry-on. The only other pieces of furniture in the room was a small wardrobe and a queen size bed. The walls and the sheets were some pastel color I couldn't identify under the red light of the sunset. I closed my eyes to take in the sounds of nature, birds chirping and leaves rustling. Somewhere nearby wind chimes interjected and completed the atmosphere of relaxation.
It was rude to make Eve wait, so I changed my clothes. Physically, they fit just fine, but I felt stripped of a part of my identity. I refused to dwell on that. I left the room looking for Eve. She was sitting on a window sill, with a book in her hand.
"They're perfect. Thank you again," I said.
She closed the book and left it by the window.
"You're very welcome. Now let's get back to the kitchen before there's a riot."
I thought she was joking but when we got there the kitchen no longer looked like the peaceful place we left. Jack held the fridge door open and he kept putting food on the table, which Skye was attempting to put back in the fridge. Noah was next to the stove looking unhappily at the smoke coming out of the pan. Another girl who looked a lot like Eve was perched on a barstool throwing green beans at Skye and Jack.
The commotion stopped as soon as we walked in. Eve went straight to the stove, took the pan out of her husband's hand and put it on a stand next to the sink. A single green bean flew through the air landing in one of the plates Jack had set on the table. Eve jerked her head to look at her daughter whose face expressed perfect innocence.
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