Chapter 14
We were in Captain Jackson's office, with the door closed. The dead body we investigated was just a head that had been delivered to our station in a gift box. It didn't take us long to identify her. When we got to the victim's apartment, all we found were traces of lye in the bathtub.
"This has the markings of a Russian mafia hit," Katherine said.
"If the Russians put a hit on him. The killer is probably already out of our jurisdiction," I said.
"What do you propose doing?" the Captain asked us.
"We should reach out to our contacts in OCD. They might know something about it," I suggested, thinking about calling John Deacon.
"The OCD will give you the run around for weeks," the Captain said. "Why don't you try talking to someone who knows the Russian mafia from the inside."
"I don't think detective Walker has this level of information," I said.
"The focus of her investigation was the illegal fights, and the unlicensed gambling." Katherine added.
I was glad she said that. Maybe Skye could help, but I didn't want to call her. I did not want to ask her anything that had to do with that horrible mission.
"I wasn't thinking of Walker," Captain Jackson said. "You are the ones who arrested Urmanova's murders. People in that line of work have a habit of knowing each other by reputation. If they recognize the signature, they might give you a name."
"That's right," Katherine agreed. "And since they're both in our backyard, we can offer them some perks if the DA agrees."
Perks? I didn't feel like doing any favors for the monsters who tortured two girls and murdered one of them. Even if I didn't really care about Tatiana on a personal level, the idea of making life easier for her murders bothered me in principle. It bothered me in a very concrete way that they were also the men who tortured Skye. And one of them… one of them was maybe my rival.
It was insane to think that. There was no competition between me and Viktor Petrov. For one thing, probably none of us meant anything to Skye other than a temporary release from fear. I shoved the thoughts away. Skye was out of my life.
We agreed that we were going to talk to the DA and visit Viktor and Ilya in prison with something to offer in return for their cooperation.
While we waited for a response from the DA's office, I took the time to look over the visitors' log. I was relieved to find that Skye was not on it. Another relief came after checking the calls log. All numbers were accounted for; relatives, lawyers, known figures from the Bratva. Nothing from Skye.
*
Viktor Petrov looked even more fit than the last time we met. Even beneath the prison uniform, I could see that he had bulked up since we arrested him. Especially the arms and chest seemed huge. He probably didn't get much chance to exercise his legs in his tiny cell.
"I am detective Woods. This is detective Robinson. We'd like to ask you some questions about some former associates."
He looked at me intently, not even glancing at Katherine. Thinking back at the number of conjugal visits he got, he probably wasn't desperate to be near a woman. I tried to put a label on his stare. He was curious about me. I moved through the room as I sometimes did during interrogations, to keep the suspect off balance. His eyes followed me, measuring me up and down with cold, calculating interest. I wondered if life in prison had changed his sexual proclivities or maybe it had simply given him an excuse to see the other side. I discarded the hypothesis. His interest wasn't sexual, but it was personal.
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
I sensed Katherine being just as surprised as me. He didn't refuse from the beginning. No macho posturing about not being a rat. I saw the dark and cold intelligence behind the huge muscles. He wanted information from us, he didn't have to answer anything. There wasn't anything he could do with it. The Russians knew we were investigating the case.
"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.