Chapter Thirteen - Emily
There he is, looking as smug as ever with his perfectly tousled, thick dirty blond hair just hanging there in his face. He looks like a fresh-faced college athlete, and the only thing that gives him away as being a flat-out psycho are those eyes. If you look deep enough, you can see there’s a devious quality to them. I flick back and forth between the tabs checking out the information on him at charity events.
The Pearl Slipper event for underprivileged Chicago kids on the South Side. He donated three million three years ago. A cheesy smile exists on his face during a ribbon cutting for the new wing of the Mercy Private Hospital.
How can he be so two-faced about his dealings and get away with it? The notion baffles me as examine at least a dozen other photos, hating the hot flushes of attraction that sprout in my body as I do. He’s painstakingly photogenic, but in every photo, there’s a self-assured smirk. As if he’s got the whole world at his feet. Sitting back in my seat, the weight of the secret I’m carrying is rocking me. Carrying a Mafia baby. I sure know how to pick ’em.
He’s a killer. A criminal of the worst kind and he’s threatened me. And not to forget he’s a detective killer. I wonder if he would really kill me if he knew I was carrying his child? Not that I’m sure the Bratva even cares about anything like that. I feel a migraine coming on as I skim through the donations and there’s a part of me that doesn’t understand.
His generosity. Just his donation alone is going to change the lives of the young girls and boys in the home. They’ll have better facilities, access to better healthcare, they’ll be able to hire more staff, and get more lost children off the street. There’s so much that will change. He helped me silently seeing that my pointy-toed slingback shoes were killing my feet, and he didn’t want me to suffer through the night, which I surely would have.
He doesn’t know how much that relieved me at the time, but it did. It saved me from blisters. Hence the headache. He must have a heart inside of him, and maybe it bleeds ice, but there’s enough substance to him that shows mercy. Was it only because Willy Dee was snooping into his business that he killed him? Maybe he’s not like that with others he wants to keep protected and likes? I stare down at my shoes, back in my work uniform, but the shoes he brought me are now taking up residence in my closet. I don’t plan on getting rid of them, but it’s got me thinking too much.
Why would he want to help me? Gingerly, I place a hand on my stomach, rubbing it and still thinking about my options. I’m going to have to make a decision soon. I look around my desk and over to Milton, Brady, and the others in my department. To the open door of my boss’s door. I’m sure I’m going to get fired if I walk in there and tell him the truth, but it’s not as if Jackson hasn’t known of complicated situation before. In his position, he likely would have heard it all.
But every day as I touch my stomach, knowing there’s a baby growing inside me and the way I grew up with my father abandoning me, I can’t do the same. I just can’t. That wouldn’t make me any better than him if I do. It would be a case of history repeating. Sighing heavily, I feel bad for even thinking about wanting to get rid of it, even if it’s got Ryurik’s DNA running through its veins. Maybe it’s a case of me never telling him and keeping the father a mystery from everyone in the department. Surely that could work if I conceal the pregnancy long enough. Sonya, who works in the bureau, has a two-year-old and came back to the force with no problem and didn’t lose her position.
Paranoid, I bite down on my lip, thinking it through. A fatherless child, just like I was. Sure, so again, I’m no better, and think of how fraudulent and gruesome that would be hurts me to my core. I let my thoughts blur, taking the time travel tunnel back down memory lane.
“What kind of family would you want when you get out of here?” Lucy asked me.
“I’d want the type of family that would go on picnics to the ocean, and I could ride the Ferris Wheel. We would have lots to eat. Not like here, and I’d have a pink bike.”
“Sure, would be nice, but that sounds like ‘pie in the sky’ dreaming if you ask me.” Lucy said.
She was a little older than me, and sadly nobody had adopted her. I was close to giving up hope at the time too. I was only seven years old. I can remember it like I know the sky is blue. I don’t think she ever was adopted and ended up helping all the other kids in the orphanage with the nasty nuns and taking them under her wing just like she did me.
I cried so hard my stomach hurt when I had to leave her, her big soulful eyes staring back at me as I was carted away. It was the guilt. It ate away at me sometimes. And golly, I wish I knew where she was these days.
If I wasn’t so tied up with everything, I would hunt her down and try to find the best friend I had inside that place. She wasn’t sold on her chances of finding a family, but she sure as hell cared that I did. I always wanted the happy family I didn’t have. One filled with unconditional love, happiness, joy, and a safe landing, but I don’t see how that can manifest with a guy like Ryurik and me. For one, I’m a cop devoted to my work and putting bad guys like him behind bars, and he evades the law, making his money through shady business dealings and murdering people.
My kid is destined to be one messed-up individual. Fuck up plus. A wash of depression comes over me as I think some more about it.
“Hello. Penny for your thoughts?” a small voice asks, the old cliché dragging me out of time travel.
“Oh. Hey, Jeff. Sorry, you startled me. I’m sorry,” I say again, not wanting him to have any pennies to my thoughts because if anybody knew about the baby in my belly it would be a real-life horror story.
“You don’t have to be sorry. What are you working on right now?” Jeff’s a new colleague from the Investigative Response Team, and he’s been showing me the ropes. He’s cute in a wholesome way. Not a bad ass, complex way, like Ryurik. Although both have this shaggy-dog-hair look going on.
“Ah. I’ve been investigating the Willy Dee murder. This guy is a Bratva underboss, and I’m gathering intel.”
“Okay. He’s a giver, huh?” Jeff leans in, studying the tabs I’ve got open, but I feel heat under my seat, not wanting my little creepy fascination with Ryurik to get around the department. It’s lucky I’m investigating him, and it gives me the permission to analyze him so closely.
“Yeah.” I tighten my lips almost spilling the beans about seeing him at the fundraiser. It feels foreign not to tell my work colleagues about the inner workings of a case. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t gate keep so much.
“What type of donations is he making? Are they helping him clean up his money?” he asks, adding more speculation to the burning fire.
“You know, that’s what I don’t know. I’m just trying to establish his links to these foundations first, but you might be onto something. It would make sense to clean the money through the charities.”
Although I know the treasurer of Golden Heart, and she would never let that happen. But from the investigation I solved relating to the school ring of money laundering, I know not to underestimate anybody, including old ladies and nuns.
“Right. I would take a hard look at that angle. Because he’s not giving for no reason.” Jeff’s reasoning is sounder than me thinking Ryurik is a good, mushy guy underneath that layer of armor. What have I been thinking?
“Yeah. I’m looking into everything. What are you working on?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
“Ah, kind of a heavy one. Clancy from narcotics was shot in the calf last week and he’s laid up in the hospital, so I’m chasing up that. I’m going to have to sit with you long enough for you to tell me more about this guy.”
“Shit. Clancy. He’s good, though, right?” Clancy’s a senior cop and has been part of the narcotics division for a long time.
“Yeah, but he was shot coming out of Sloane’s over near the South Side.”
“Sloanes,” I say slowly. “The Whisky Bar down the laneway?” I pitch, invested in his answer, still wondering why he needs to speak to me specifically.
“Yep. He stopped a drug deal, picking up the cash, but not before he got shot. He asked the dealer who his boss was, and that was when he first got ahold of him.”
Swiveling all the way around in my chair, my heart beats fast, because I think I already know the answer. “Who was it?”
“He said the Utkins. Now, there’s no extra information on which one he was talking about, but Ryurik is hot news on the street. I know he got off for the murder of Willy Dee, but if we can pin him through one of his drug mules, it would help.”
“Okay. Send me over what you have, and I can see what I can match up in the database and with my current case.”
“Good,” Jeff adds with a warm smile. “It’s good to have someone as sharp as you in the Central team.”
I chuckle, hiding my anxiety because if he knew I slept with Ryurik, my reputation as a detective would be tarnished for good. Although, if I was good enough, maybe I could have said I slept with him so he could pillow talk and give me information.
Come on, Wilson… that’s a long slingshot, and you know it. Keep your mouth shut. Nobody can know. Not even Ryurik.
“Thanks, but I’ve got a lot to learn yet.”
“Sure, but you’ll get there. See you soon, Emily.”
“Bye, Jeff,” I reply timidly, the game between Ryurik and I becoming just that bit more dangerous.