Chapter 20 - Alisa #2
Twenty minutes later, I slipped out through an unguarded side gate I’d discovered during my wanderings around the grounds. The cab was waiting at the end of the street outside Dante’s, just out of sight of the security cameras.
***
I asked the cab driver to drop me a block from my father’s house, and decided to walk the rest of the way. When I reached near it, I stopped for a moment, just to look up at the quaint property I once called home.
God, I used to love this place. Of course I visited often in college, and even after, when I moved out to my own apartment. But on weekends when I didn’t have much work at the marketing agency I freelanced with, I’d come back here often.
How much had changed, I thought to myself. I no longer worked. I was married to Dante Lebedev. My father wasn’t the man I thought he was.
But the house was the same as it always had been—a large, colonial structure with perfect hedges and a beautiful lawn.
The home of a respected federal prosecutor.
How many secrets were hidden behind those walls?
I would only know if I managed to get in there, unseen. I knew I had to sneak in, because I couldn’t exactly walk in there and demand answers from my father now, could I?
If he saw me, I feared he might not let me leave. Feared he’d take me straight to the Pavlovs. I had to know what the Pavlovs had on him, and then I would take that back to Dante until we found a solution for my father to get out of this mess.
So I could finally get those vultures off my back.
I circled around to the back, thanking the stars that I’d never returned the spare key I kept on my keychain. I slipped into the kitchen and was hit immediately by the familiar smell of lemon polish.
For a moment, I was the same old Alisa again, coming home for a weekend to hang out with Papa. The memory hurt more than I expected.
I took quiet steps through the dark house, not wanting to wake my father since I knew he was probably asleep. At last, I made it to his office at the end of the hall up the stairs.
The door, as I expected, was unlocked. I slipped in and closed it behind me, then turned on the small desk lamp.
Not wanting to waste time, I went straight for the filing cabinet behind his desk. The top drawer was locked, but I knew where he kept the key—taped to the underside of the middle desk drawer.
The files inside were labeled meticulously, organized by year. I pulled out the most recent ones and began to read.
What I found made me sick.
Right before me were case after case of violent men left to roam free, while attached behind the file was a list of names of innocent people framed for crimes they never committed.
There were detailed notes on judges who could be bribed, witnesses that could be intimidated, and what evidence was “lost” and where one could find them.
There were bank statements to an offshore account holding millions. All the money in it came straight from the Pavlovs.
With trembling hands, I put aside the file and searched for the why amongst the others. And then, I had to sit down.
Because what I found was a horror I never expected to find. My father, the man whom the people held responsible for delivering justice, had a list of cops on his side who killed the witnesses who refused to be intimidated.
I looked at these photos—of innocent men and women, people with families, now buried because of my father—and I felt the tears fall down my cheeks.
This wasn’t a man who had been forced into corruption. These were the records of someone who had embraced it and profited from it for years. Decades.
My father wasn’t just dirty. He was rotten to the core.
What the hell was I thinking, wanting to come in here, needing to prove his innocence? My father had done the unspeakable for money. No excuse in the world could explain away the fact that he was a murderer.
My father had killed for money. If he could do that, it meant only one thing.
He was capable of selling me for his ends, too.
I could barely breathe. I had to get out of here. With shaking hands, I shoved the files back in their respective places, locked the drawer, and made my way back down the stairs.
The whole time, my chest felt like it would crack and shatter. My vision no longer felt like mine; my body felt far away. Distant.
I needed to get back to Dante. Needed to tell him what I’d found. Needed him to tell me it would all be okay.
I was so absorbed in the horror of what I’d discovered that I almost missed the voices that drifted down the hallway from the living room, but somewhere in the midst of the panic, I registered that I wasn’t alone.
My heart hammered so damn hard, I was afraid I’d be discovered if I breathed too loud. I kept my breathing quiet, taking long, slow breaths, and pressed myself against the wall.
“I told you I’d handle it,” my father was saying. “I’ll have her with the Pavlovs soon.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” someone screamed. “The Pavlovs are losing patience. We had a deal, Montes.”
“I know the deal,” my father snapped. “But Dante Lebedev has complicated things. The marriage is legitimate—I checked.”
“Fuck that. Have Dante arrested and pay a judge to annul the marriage.”
My heart raced so fast I thought it might burst from my chest. They were talking about handing me over to the Pavlovs.
“It’s not that simple!” my father bellowed. “I need a few more days to think, but Arko will get what he wants.”
“You don’t have a few more days,” the man said. Then I heard it—the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. “This is your last chance, Montes. Either you deliver your daughter by the end of the week, or he finds someone else to be a federal prosecutor. Someone who will follow orders.”
“You can’t do this,” my father pleaded, and I heard his voice shake like never before. I felt my heart racing.
“I’ve done everything the Pavlovs asked for years!” my father begged. “Please. I’ll keep my word… I promise.”
“How?” the man asked.
“I… I don’t know. Some time… please…You know I’m loyal to you all, but I made a mistake letting my daughter go, and I just have to figure out how to get my hands on her… “
And then, I heard a gunshot. My mouth flung open, a scream ready to tear from the throat as I prepared to run in there, but just then, a strong hand clamped over my mouth from behind, and an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back into the shadows of an alcove.
I struggled wildly until Dante’s voice whispered in my ear.
“Shh, it’s me.”