Chapter 14
ADRIAN
Viktor arrives at the Key Largo property at eight in the morning with coffee from a gas station and a folder thick enough to concern me. He sets both on the kitchen table, pulls out a chair, and doesn’t sit in it. He stands behind it with both hands on the back.
“Hayes is escalating.”
I get my espresso from the machine and sit. “How?”
“He’s harassing Marisol Cruz aggressively. Her attorney sent a formal cease-and-desist to his precinct. Marisol’s lawyer, Rebecca Fischer, is aggressive and competent, but Hayes has the badge and the institutional cover to absorb a cease-and-desist without changing his behavior.”
Viktor opens the folder. “He’s also interviewed seven former Echelon employees in the last ten days. He pulled partial entry footage from three businesses surrounding the club, which means he’s building a timeline of who entered and exited the night Dominic disappeared.”
“Has he found Aurora on any of the footage?”
“Not yet. Grigor’s wipe was thorough for Echelon’s own systems, but the neighboring businesses use independent security that we couldn’t access without leaving a trail.
There’s a convenience store across the street with a camera pointed at the sidewalk.
If Hayes pulls that footage and cross-references it with the Echelon timeline, he could see Aurora leaving through the rear corridor. ”
“Could or will?”
“The footage is what…five weeks old? Most convenience stores overwrite their security recordings every two to four weeks. Grigor is monitoring the store’s system remotely to determine whether the relevant window still exists.
” Viktor turns a page in the folder. “If it does, we have a narrow opportunity to address it. If Hayes has already obtained a copy, we’re working with a different problem. ”
I drink my espresso. “What else?”
“He’s made two unofficial attempts to reach Aurora outside normal police channels.
The first was a text message sent from a personal phone to a number associated with Aurora’s former apartment building, apparently hoping the building manager would forward it.
The second was a message passed through a former Echelon bartender who still has Aurora’s personal number. ”
“Nathan Reyes?” Just saying his name sparks a surge of cold anger.
Viktor sneers. “After the talk Fedor had with Reyes, he won’t tell Karpov anything unless he’s being tortured.
He knows he’ll no longer be communicating with anyone if he crosses us again.
This was a different bartender. The messages were intercepted by Grigor.
Both were phrased as welfare checks, but the language was personal, not procedural.
He’s asking where she is, whether she’s safe, and if she left voluntarily.
That last question appears in both messages. ”
Eric Hayes is no longer conducting a police investigation. He’s hunting a woman he believes he has a right to find, and he’s using the badge to justify it.
“There’s one more thing.” Viktor pulls a second document from the folder. “Grigor recovered the primary archive of Dominic’s recordings from a cloud server Dominic was using as a backup. The archive is now secured and wiped. The virus Grigor deployed should prevent any recovery.”
“And Karpov’s copies?”
“He has residual copies. He downloaded files before Dominic died, and those give him leverage, but the complete archive is now in our hands. Grigor confirmed that Karpov’s last download happened three days before Dominic was killed. Nothing from those final three days reached Karpov’s server.”
I narrow my eyes. “Can we be certain?”
Viktor hesitates. “Not completely. Grigor found no evidence of a secondary backup system, and the virus he deployed destroyed the server infrastructure, but if Karpov has another storage location we haven’t identified, that’s a gap we can’t close from this end.”
The recordings from the last three days before Dominic’s death probably didn’t reach Karpov.
That’s as secure as Grigor can make it, which isn’t the same as certain.
The earlier recordings are still in Karpov’s hands, and those are enough to threaten Aurora if he decides she’s useful. “I want to meet with Hayes.”
Viktor’s expression doesn’t change, but he tightens his grip on the chair back. “That’s a risk.”
“It’s a calculated one. I’ll frame it as voluntary cooperation with the Echelon investigation as a legitimate business owner offering to assist the police with information about a venue he patronized. Hayes won’t refuse because it gives him access to me, and access to me is access to Aurora.”
“He’ll try to read you.”
I give him a brief smile. “That’s the point. I want to read him, and I’m willing to let him try to read me to get that information.”
The meeting happens two days later at a conference room in a downtown Miami business that rents out shared workspaces and private offices for telecommuters.
The space is neutral and monitored by Grigor’s equipment through a device Viktor installed in the ceiling vent that morning.
Hayes doesn’t know about the recording, but I do.
Eric Hayes walks in wearing a sport coat over a collared shirt, with his badge clipped to his belt and a leather folder tucked under his arm.
He looks trustworthy on instinct, which is exactly what makes him dangerous.
He shakes my hand with a firm grip that lasts one second too long.
“Mr. Bugrov, I appreciate you making time for this.”
“Of course.” I gesture to the chair across the table. “Echelon was a venue I used frequently for business. I’m happy to assist however I can.”
He sits, opens his folder, and arranges his materials with theatrical thoroughness.
He keeps the badge visible and the folder open.
He wants me to see that this is official even though I refused to come to the station to be interviewed, which means he’s already worried it doesn’t look official enough.
“How well did you know Dominic Caruso?”
“As well as any regular client knows a venue owner. He was accommodating and attentive to his guests’ needs.” I keep my posture relaxed and my hands visible on the table. “I last saw him the Thursday before his disappearance.”
“Did anything seem unusual that night?”
“Dominic was more active than usual. He moved between his office and the floor several times. I attributed it to a busy evening.”
Hayes makes a note. The pen strokes are slow, which means he’s thinking more than he’s writing. “You were at the club with a companion that evening? Viktor Sokolov.”
“My business associate. He accompanies me to most professional engagements.”
He makes another slow note, clearly drawing this out as though hoping to unsettle me. “Were you aware that Aurora Moore, the senior hostess, was also working that night?”
I don’t miss a beat. “She managed the floor. I interacted with her professionally regarding my reservation.”
He looks up, and his gaze drills into me. “That was the extent of your interaction?”
I don’t blink. “Is there a specific question you’re working toward, Detective?”
He slips. It’s small, barely a flicker, but I’ve been reading men like him for seventeen years. His mask thins, and what’s underneath is proprietary and wounded.
“Aurora Moore hasn’t been seen at her apartment, her workplace, or any of her known locations since the night Dominic disappeared.
” He leans forward. “Her phone is offline. Her bank accounts show no activity. Her best friend won’t cooperate with the investigation, and her mother says she’s traveling for work, which doesn’t match any employment records I’ve been able to find. ”
I frown and sound suitably worried for someone who is supposedly a virtual stranger to me. “That sounds concerning.”
“It is concerning.” He drops his voice. “Aurora and I were in a relationship for two years. I know her patterns, and this doesn’t match any of them. She doesn’t disappear or go silent. She doesn’t run unless someone is making her run.”
He’s stopped talking like a detective. The shift happened mid-sentence, and he didn’t catch it. He went from “Aurora Moore, the senior hostess” to “Aurora and I” without a transition, and the possessiveness in his voice is so transparent that I’m surprised he made detective in the first place.
“You mentioned her patterns.” I keep my tone neutral. “Are you investigating her disappearance as part of the Caruso case, or is this a separate concern?”
He doesn’t falter, so he’s clearly committed to the narrative he’s establishing. “Everything connected to Echelon is part of the Caruso case.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Including your personal relationship with a key witness?”
Hayes sits back and adjusts his badge. I hit a nerve there. He’s back to the smooth, earnest detective again. “My prior relationship with Ms. Moore gives me insight into her behavior. That’s an asset to the investigation.”
“Hmm.” I draw that out and remain silent for a significant pause. “It’s also a conflict of interest. Your department must have policies about investigating cases involving former partners.”
He stiffens slightly. “My lieutenant is aware of the history and cleared me for the assignment.”
“I’m sure he is.” I don’t smile, but I let the skepticism sit openly on my face.
He clenches his teeth and leans forward hard enough that his folder slides off the table.
He doesn’t pick it up. “You want to know what I think, Mr. Bugrov? I think Aurora didn’t leave Echelon because of Dominic.
I think she left because of you. She’s somewhere in this city right now because you put her there, and I think the reason her best friend won’t talk to me is you intimidated her into keeping quiet. ”
The detective mask has not only slipped but is hanging askew. I’m looking at the man who touched Aurora’s hair and smirked when she flinched. “That’s an interesting theory.”