Chapter 45
ROMAN
“What do you think?”
“I think it looks like you’re about to explain how the Illuminati secretly controls everything.”
The far wall in my office is no longer adorned with art. Instead, a massive, sprawling crime board dominates the space. It’s covered in evidence—mugshots, photos, satellite pictures, text transcripts—all of it an attempt to link everything that’s happened to Garin.
Andrei’s handiwork.
“It’s a mess, I know,” he says. “But we’re onto something.”
“I think you are right.”
I sip my whiskey, my gaze moving slowly over the crime board. Garin. He’s what this is about. Elena’s assassination, the attempted kidnapping of Amalie, the shooting at the gala the other night. I know it was him. The problem is connecting him to it with more than just my intuition.
“We have some payments routed through a server shell in Latvia,” Andrei says. “Same provider Garin used three years ago as a logistics proxy. But it’s not proof. He’s damn good at hiding that.”
“He never signs his name,” I add. “That way, when people like the CPD or FBI, or you and I put together boards like this, we find nothing but dead ends. That’s how men like him survive.”
There’s nothing solid, not enough to throw on him and claim, undoubtedly, that he was the one behind it all.
“The gala shooting,” Andrei says. “The shooters were amateurs.”
“But loyal. No rent-a-gun would’ve kept his mouth shut like the man I caught did. He would have sung like a little bird to keep his life. And he would not have done something as risky as taking my gun.”
A thought occurs to me, one I can’t believe escaped my attention before. “When he took the gun…”
Andrei’s eyes flash. He gets it. “He was aiming for Amalie. Not you.”
I nod. “She was the target.”
It has to be Garin. Any other Bratva would be content to take me out. Why bother with my woman?
There’s more to what’s going on than a mere hit on a competing Bratva head. This is about vengeance, about tearing out my heart and forcing me to live with the pain.
Only Nikolai Garin would conceive of such a thing.
Andrei knits his brow in concentration. “But you said Garin was nearly hit, right? Why would he organize an attempt on your life where he could easily be killed in the crossfire?”
“Because he wanted to make it look that way to throw me off the trail. The shooting started just after he approached Amalie and me on the balcony.”
“That could’ve been a signal.”
“Perhaps. But no way to prove it.”
Andrei places his hand on his chin, thinking the matter over.
“Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“You could simply remove him.”
I snort in amusement. “Trust me, I have considered it. But it’s not an option. If I make a move against him, I would have to do it without connecting the Barinov Bratva to the assassination. A tall order, to say the least. And if I move but fail…” I let the words settle.
Andrei sighs, understanding. “Garin goes to war, brings in his allies. The city burns. Hundreds die. Not to mention you can put an end to any hopes of going legit.”
“Aptly summed up.”
An email from Callahan sits in my inbox. He’s still interested in speaking, still interested in moving the IPO forward. But I need more information before I give the word. I won’t get a third chance at this.
Andrei opens his mouth to speak when a knock sounds at the office door.
“Yes?” I call out.
The door opens and one of the housemaids steps in. “Mr. Barinov? There is a gentleman here to see you.”
My jaw tightens. “Name,” I say calmly.
“Detective Kyle Denning with the Chicago Police Department.”
The thought of a raid flashes in my mind. “Is he alone?”
“Yes, sir, he is.”
Andrei steps forward. “I can tell him to leave or at least to come back when a lawyer is present.”
That would be the prudent move, but something tells me there’s more to this visit than just simple questioning.
I straighten my cuffs and smooth the front of my jacket.
“Bring him in, please.”
The housemaid nods and retreats.
I glance once more at the board. It’s a mess, but it could also be the beginning of the noose I use to finally hang Garin.
Let Kyle come. I have nothing to hide.
But everything to protect.
Kyle Denning doesn’t enter my office with his hat in his hand. He enters like he owns the place. That alone earns a small sliver of my respect.
Andrei pauses at the door as Kyle walks in, making his presence heavy. Then he glances in my direction. I shake my head. We’ll talk alone.
“Take Amalie and Sasha,” I tell him. “There is a small exhibition at the west wing of the Museum of Contemporary Art. She mentioned wanting to see it.”
Andrei says nothing, his gaze flicking to Kyle again, summing him up, measuring. Then he looks at me and nods. “Got it.”
He leaves without another word, closing the door softly behind him.
Kyle watches this exchange with a neutral expression, but I can sense he’s thinking of Amalie, knowing she’s somewhere in the house. He’s observant, controlled.
“Kyle,” I say. “Or should I call you Detective Denning for this conversation? I get the impression you aren’t here for a social call.”
“And you’d be right about that,” he replies. “I’m here in an official capacity.” Kyle slips his badge out of his inner jacket pocket and flashes it, nothing more than a formal gesture.
I nod toward one of the wing-backed chairs across from my desk. “Sit, please. May I get you something to drink?”
“No. But thanks.” He moves to the chair, sits, his mouth a hard line. “Apologies for the unannounced drop-in. But I figured this might be the best way to get you face-to-face.”
“Face-to-face without any lawyers present, you mean.”
He sighs and nods before running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. But more man-to-man. This situation is not just about you and me, as you well know.”
“I do.”
A beat of silence.
“Anyway, I appreciate you seeing me. These are complicated circumstances.”
“Indeed, they are.”
“I’ll get right to the point. I’m here because—” He turns and notices the crime board on the wall.
I hadn’t made any effort to hide it. “Well, looks like we’re on the same page.
I’m trying to figure out the through-line between the abduction attempt, the gala shooting, and why CPS was called on you.
But I’m having some issues. On paper, it doesn’t connect. ”
“But it does.”
His jaw twitches. “Yeah. That’s my instinct, too. But you know how the law works; I can’t go on just my gut.”
“It’s the same in my world, as well. Unfortunately.”
Kyle nods slowly. “Let me ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
I say nothing at first. My phone is close at hand. I could call one of my lawyers, have him here in thirty minutes to do this the right way. He is a cop, after all. But he’s not just a cop. He’s Amalie’s family. No doubt exists in my mind that he would do anything to keep her safe.
“I don’t mind. Let us talk.”
Kyle asks precise questions about timelines, security reports, names of contractors.
I give him what I can within reason. He narrows his eyes when he senses I’m holding back, but he doesn’t push.
A detective like him understands that having a man like me speaking candidly isn’t an opportunity that comes often.
“Nikolai Garin,” he says.
“Nikolai Garin,” I echo. “There is no doubt in my mind that he’s the one behind it all.”
A nod. “We’ve got our eye on him.”
A pause. Kyle is summoning the nerve to bring up whatever’s on his mind.
“Speak, Detective. I insist.”
“Elena Barinova.”
Her name hits like a splash of cold water to the face. I clear my throat. “Yes. My wife.”
“Murdered four years ago. Nearly coming up on the anniversary, in fact.”
“Indeed.”
“As you know, it was officially classified as a robbery gone wrong.”
“Officially,” I repeat.
“I reopened the case.”
He has my full attention. I sit back on the edge of my desk, weighing my next words carefully. “You’ll forgive me if I ask why.”
“It doesn’t sit right with me. And it doesn’t sit right with me for the same reason it doesn’t sit right with you.
Missing witness statements. Evidence was mishandled.
Someone got into this case and made sure we couldn’t follow any threads.
And there’s the detail of why the hell a mugger would try to hurt your son. What purpose would that serve?”
A question I have asked myself many, many times. “Have you found something new?”
“Not yet. Just that there’s enough to reopen it. But it’s still fuzzy.” He looks at my crime board again, as if there might be a detail he hadn’t noticed that could blow it all open.
“And that’s what you came here to tell me.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m not going to say we’re allies on this. Far from it. But let’s just agree we have mutual goals.”
He’s not just talking about Garin.
“Yes.”
Kyle shifts in his seat. “I’ve got some leads I’m going to follow. I’ll bring them to you when I know whether or not they’re valid. Not going to tip my hand before that.”
“Elena’s death. It’s about closure. I need to know what happened to her. I need to know who did it. And why.”
“I get it. And you may think this is a na?ve thing to say, but I became a cop for a reason. If someone takes a life in this town, they’re going to face justice.”
“Not na?ve at all, Detective. Principled.”
“I’m not just here as a detective, though,” he says. “I’m also here as a brother.”
“Yes.” I study him as he speaks. I can see the protectiveness.
He feels it toward her, she feels it toward Sasha.
And I feel it for the both of them. I see what they share, how similar they are.
“Your sister means a great deal to me. She’s not a liability, nor is she bait or leverage. She is central. To everything.”
“You care about her.” More of a statement than a question.
“Very much.”
“And you know it’s not just her you have to look out for. Not just your son.”
Ah. He knows.
“I will protect them all. With my life.”
There’s an appreciative flash in his eyes. “I don’t trust your world, Barinov. I don’t like what surrounds you. But I believe you right now, I believe you will protect them.”
I lean forward. “Then we understand one another.”
He stands, walking over to the crime board. “Yeah. I guess we do. For now, at least.”
“For now.”
“If you let anything happen to her,” he says, “I’ll kill you myself.”
“Of that, Detective, I have no doubt. And I would expect nothing less.”
His gaze stays on me for several long beats before he turns back to the board.
I remain seated on the edge of the desk, watching him.
A cop with integrity. A brother with honor. And an ally, perhaps, if fate sees so fit to make that of us.
I think of Amalie, of Sasha and the baby.
I will not fail them.