17. Evgeny #3
“Well, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d surprise you.
” I look around, spotting Detective Bronson at his desk and several officers throughout the room.
Despite the stereotype, they’re not huddled around an open box of donuts.
Most of them look like they’re filling out required forms and working their asses off so they can get the hell out of here and get home to their families.
Opening the folder I brought in, I hold up one of the papers. “I had a few follow-up questions about the CCTV footage we talked about during my client’s last interview.”
“Of course you do,” Alvarez says, eyeing the paper like it’s the last thing he wants to be dealing with. “You already have discovery, though, so I’m not sure what else I can give you.”
“I just keep coming back to that missing footage. It’s odd, right? The victim was in a well-populated area, there are cameras all over those streets, and yet none of them were working that night?”
Alvarez shrugs. “It’s not my job to make sure the cameras are up and working. Take it up with the city.”
I ignore his tone and set the piece of paper I’ve been holding on the desk in front of him, pointing at the list of evidence. “Why isn’t it listed here?”
Alvarez glances at the sheet of paper and then looks back at me. “You mean why didn’t we list footage that we don’t have as part of evidence?”
“No, I mean why is there no record of anyone trying to obtain it? The cameras aren’t listed in any of the documents my office has received.
No canvass notes, no request for footage, nothing.
None of the police reports mention it. Camera footage is a staple of most cases, and the fact that it’s not even acknowledged in all of the hundreds of pages of discovery I’ve read through is odd, Detective. ”
“Lots of things are odd, Nikitin. Like the fact that you make a living defending the nastiest people in our country. I find that very odd.”
“I want to know who handled the surveillance canvass. Who tried to obtain the footage, and why there isn’t a single report documenting what they found.”
Alvarez grimaces. “You implying someone tampered with evidence, Nikitin.”
I lean in and say, “I never said anyone tampered with anything. Interesting that’s where your mind immediately went, though.”
His cheeks turn a tomato-red, and I briefly worry about him having a heart attack, but his heart manages to work through what has to be some very clotted arteries, and keeps things working well enough for Alvarez to hike up his pants before sitting down in front of his computer.
He types slowly and with two pudgy fingers, making me wonder if he and Betsy are in cahoots.
I grit my teeth and force myself to be patient.
“There’s no surveillance canvass report,” he finally says.
“Who was assigned to it?” I ask.
He scrolls down the screen, making me wait a few more minutes before saying, “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check with the case team tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask.
Alvarez leans back in his squeaky chair and grins. “The person I need to talk to isn’t here. I’ll check in the morning. Why are you so hell-bent on helping the Melnikovs anyway? Why not do something good for the world for once in your life and let this fucker rot?”
“Because I don’t believe he committed this crime, Detective.”
Alvarez laughs. “He’s committed more crimes than we can count. We’ve been trying to get this family for years, and this is the first time we’ve ever even come close to having a shot at taking one of them down.”
“You sound a little obsessed,” I tell him.
“No, I sound like a man who’s spent years trying to get these criminal bastards off our streets, and instead of celebrating the fact that we’ve finally done it, I have to deal with you trying to make sure the guy walks free.”
“Sorry to be a buzzkill.”
“You know how dangerous these people are?” he asks me. “Can you look beyond the money for one fucking second and really see what these people do?”
The urge to reach out and slam his head down onto his desk is very strong. This obnoxious ass should be on his knees thanking my family for all the truly evil men they’ve killed over the years. Whether he wants to believe it or not, the streets are actually safer with my family on them.
When I don’t say anything, Alvarez continues. “You know one of the sons, Maxim, actually married into the Medvedev Bratva. That’s both sides of our country being controlled by Russian Bratvas. We have good reason to believe he’s working for both families.”
I laugh, letting him hear how ridiculous I think he sounds.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not how these families work.
They’re very territorial. Besides, don’t they do arranged marriages and shit like that?
It’s always the daughter, though, right?
Why do you think that is?” I ask, but before he can answer, I say, “Because they don’t let men work for two different Bratvas.
” I laugh again, because I can tell it’s making Alvarez feel like an idiot, even though the guy is actually connecting dots that shouldn’t be connected.
He looks like he’s getting close to stroke levels again, but I can’t afford to take it easy on the man who’s actively trying to destroy my family, so without a shred of guilt, I lean in and say, “I was having a pretty lousy day, Detective, so thanks for the laugh.”
“I knew my first impression was right about you, Nikitin.”
I smile at him. “That I’m incredibly good looking and brilliant to boot?”
I didn’t realize his scowl could get any deeper, but he manages it while he says, “That you’re an arrogant asshole who only cares about his bank account.”
With another grin that’s just as cocky as he thinks I am, I say, “My bank account isn’t the only part of me that’s well-endowed, Detective.”
Before he can come up with a biting remark, I give another laugh and turn my back on him, walking out like I own the damn place and everyone in it.
I don’t particularly like people thinking so poorly of me, but I learned a long time ago that it’s a lot easier to let them judge.
If they’re busy hating me and convincing themselves they're justified in doing so, then they won’t have time to dig and find the truth.
As soon as I’m outside, I call Caleb to check in, not surprised when he has nothing new to tell me.
Deciding to take my dad’s advice, I stop on the way home and grab some Mexican food for a late supper, making sure to get several greasy tacos because I know it’ll make Harper happy.
The potential health issues seem like a small price to pay when I get home and her face lights up in a huge smile at the sight of all the food I’ve brought with me.
They always say food is the way to a man’s heart, but it seems to be working for Harper, too.