40. Vadim
40
VADIM
I hold Lacey's hand as we enter Rutledge's office. Her touch steadies me, though my wounds still ache. The captain's eyes track our every move, sharp and calculating as ever.
"Mr. and Mrs. Stravinsky." His voice holds none of its usual edge. "Please, sit."
Lacey squeezes my hand before we settle into the chairs. Her presence beside me feels like armor.
"I'll be direct," Rutledge says, folding his hands on his desk. "The interviews your sister-in-law published have... complicated things."
"How so?" I keep my voice neutral, though I already suspect where this is heading.
He exhales heavily. "Public opinion has shifted dramatically in your husband’s favor. The story of a son working to undo his father's legacy of evil... it's compelling. Add in the rescued women singing his praises, and suddenly he’s being hailed as some kind of hero."
"That wasn't our intention," Lacey interjects softly.
"Wasn't it?" Rutledge's gaze fixes on her. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like a masterful PR move. If I move against Svoboda or your husband now, the public backlash would be significant."
I feel a familiar protectiveness rise as he stares at my wife. "You're worried about optics?"
"I'm worried about the police's ability to maintain public trust while fighting organized crime." He leans back. "How can I justify to the public that I’m going after the man who's done more to combat human trafficking in this city than the police?”
"That must be so frustrating for you," I say, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice.
"Vadim," Lacey whispers, a gentle warning.
"There is, however, someone else who is not convinced." Rutledge pulls out a manila folder. "Caroline Riley continues to insist you murdered Nathan Walker on behalf of your wife."
I feel Lacey tense beside me. Her fingers tighten around mine.
"That's ridiculous," Lacey says, but her voice wavers slightly.
Rutledge opens the folder. "We found some interesting prints at Mr. Walker's apartment. Still have them on file. I'm sure that if I were to take your fingerprints right now, Mr. Stravinsky, they'd be a perfect match."
"What's your point, Captain?" I keep my voice level, though my heart pounds faster.
"Look, you know as much as I do that I hate saying this." He meets my eyes. "But what you've done for this city? I can't deny it's made a difference. The trafficking rings are in shambles. Women are being rescued. Lives are being saved." He sighs heavily. "But as long as Walker's murder remains unsolved with you as a person of interest, I can't close any case involving you or Svoboda."
"What exactly are you asking for?"
"I need either incontrovertible evidence that you didn't kill Nathan Walker, or for Caroline Riley to retract her accusation.” Rutledge's gaze is steady. "Give me either, and we can put this whole ugly business behind us."
The irony of this moment isn't lost on me. The very man who swore to bring me down is now practically begging me to prove my innocence.
"And if we can't provide what you’re asking for?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Then I'll have no choice but to press charges.” Rutledge's expression hardens. "In fact, given your status as a person of interest, protocol demands I take you into my custody right now."
"No!" Lacey's voice cracks with desperation. "You can't?—"
"Mrs. Stravinsky," Rutledge cuts her off. “Your testimony about Mr. Walker's character and involvement with trafficking was compelling. But your husband's potential fingerprints at the crime scene put a rather significant hole in your story." He fixes her with that razor-sharp stare. "Which makes you an accessory after the fact."
My blood runs cold. The thought of Lacey in prison, pregnant with our child...
“I know what you can and cannot do. Which is why I gave you an option. You have twenty-four hours," Rutledge continues, his voice softening slightly. "Get Ms. Riley to rescind her accusation against your husband."
"Twenty-four hours?" Lacey asks.
"That's how long I can reasonably delay taking Mr. Stravinsky's prints." Rutledge closes the folder with deliberate care. "After that, my hands are tied."
I feel Lacey's fingers trembling in mine. The weight of what we need to accomplish in the next day settles over us both like a heavy shroud.
"One day," Rutledge repeats. "Make it count."
"A moment with my wife, Captain?" I keep my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
Rutledge nods, gathering his files. "Five minutes. I'll be right outside."
As soon as the door clicks shut, Lacey's composure crumbles. "Vadim, Caroline hates me. She blames me for ruining her relationship with Nathan."
" Zvyozdochka ..." I reach for her hand, but she pulls away.
"No, you don't understand." Her voice cracks. "She was obsessed with him . The way she looked at me that day in his office when I caught them..." Lacey's hand drifts to her belly protectively. "She won't help us. She wants me to suffer."
I study my wife's face, seeing the fear etched there. The bruises from Kirsan's attack are still dark against her skin. "We could try?—"
"What? Threaten her? Bribe her?" Lacey's laugh is bitter. “You know that won’t work.”
She's right. The reality of our situation settles over me like a lead weight.
We're trapped.
"Rutledge is asking for the impossible," Lacey whispers, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Caroline will never rescind her statement. Never."
I pull her into my arms, feeling her shoulders shake as she cries. The wound in my side throbs, a reminder of how close I came to losing everything in Los Angeles. Now it seems I might lose it all anyway, not to Kirsan's knife but to a spurned woman's vendetta.
"I just got you back," Lacey breathes against my chest. "And now they're going to take you away from me again. It's not fair!"
I pull back from Lacey, my mind already racing with possibilities. "What if we could make Caroline see Nathan for who he really was?"
"She won't listen to me." Lacey shakes her head, wiping tears from her face. "She thinks I'm lying about everything."
“It won’t matter what she thinks, because we have proof." I cup her face gently. " Zvyozdochka , everything we need is at Pankration."
“The bible…” Her eyes widen with realization. "Your list.”
"Caroline was Nathan's secretary." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "She would have handled all his paperwork, arranged his meetings..."
"She would have processed the deals..." Lacey's voice grows stronger as understanding dawns. "The trafficking contracts would have gone right across her desk."
"Exactly." I nod, encouraged by the spark returning to her eyes. "If we can show her the evidence that Nathan made her an unwitting accomplice in human trafficking..."
"She'll realize what kind of monster he really was." Lacey grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. "And once she understands that she was helping him sell women and girls."
"Her loyalty to him might finally break." I complete her thought, hope blooming in my chest.
"We have to try." Determination replaces the fear in Lacey's voice. "If we can make her see the truth about Nathan, maybe she'll withdraw her statement."
I press my forehead to hers, breathing in her familiar scent. "It's worth a shot, zvyozdochka ."
"What if she still doesn't believe me?" Lacey's voice trembles. "What if we show her everything and she still chooses to stand by Nathan?"
I trace my thumb across her lower lip, remembering how fiercely she defended Mrs. Klossner's dry cleaners that first day we met. The fire in her eyes then matches the determination I see now, even if she doesn't recognize it herself.
" Zvyozdochka , you'll know what to do when the moment comes." I cup her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You're not that scared catering girl anymore dreaming about becoming a fashion designer. You're my wife. The mother of my child."
Her hand drifts to her belly instinctively. "But?—"
"No." I silence her doubt with a gentle kiss. "You're Lacey Stravinsky now. And a Stravinsky either finds a way or makes one."
The ghost of a smile plays at her lips. "Is that what you tell yourself when things look impossible?"
"I didn't need to tell myself anything once I had you by my side." I brush away a stray tear from her cheek. "You've already proven yourself more than capable of doing the impossible. The bible heist? Surviving Kirsan? Those weren't luck, zvyozdochka . That was all you."
Her eyes soften as she leans into my touch. "I just... I can't lose you. Not now. Not when we're so close to having everything."
“Then don’t let Caroline take this from us." I rest my forehead against hers. "Show her who you really are – the woman who brought a bratva pakhan to his knees."
"On your knees?" Lacey's eyes sparkle with renewed determination. "I'll hold you to that."
Then, she leans over and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft but carries a fierce promise.
I watch her leave, memorizing the graceful way she moves, the subtle sway of her hips, the protective way her hand rests on her belly. The door clicks shut behind her.
Heavy footsteps announce Rutledge's return. He settles back into his chair, studying me with those sharp eyes. "Anything else you'd like to say, Mr. Stravinsky?"
"We're done talking." I meet his gaze steadily. "You can take me to bookings now."
His eyebrows lift slightly. "No last-minute deals? No thinly veiled threats?"
"No need."
"I'll be frank with you." Rutledge leans back, folding his hands across his desk. "For the city's sake, I hope your wife can convince Ms. Riley to drop her accusation."
"She will." The certainty in my voice seems to surprise him. "I'm sure of it."
I see the questions forming behind his eyes, but I've already said all I need to say.
My zvyozdochka has never failed me before.
She won't start now.