12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Daniel
“What’s this?” Aurora throws the small device at Daniel’s bare chest. He catches it with one hand, his expression immediately shifting into a frown.
Shit.
Aurora texted an hour ago asking to meet, but she showed up much sooner than Daniel anticipated. He barely had time to tidy up and hop into a quick shower.
“Please, come inside,” he says, glancing nervously down the empty street to ensure they’re not being watched.
“I’m not going inside,” Aurora insists, her voice rising. “I want to know what this is right now.” She points in his face. “Are you bugging me or something?”
Daniel looks down at the device, then back at Aurora.
He could try to claim ignorance—she might not be entirely sure it’s his.
She might believe Sergei decided to keep a closer eye on his son’s nanny.
Although… maybe it’s not the best idea for her to think that.
If she confronts Sergei, he’ll know someone is investigating him.
Aurora narrows her eyes. “Don’t you even think about lying to me. It says property of LVMPD on it,” she seethes.
Double shit.
“Please, just come inside, and I’ll explain everything,” he pleads, gently guiding her by the elbow.
“Daniel, I swear,” she jerks away from his touch, “if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m calling the police—the real ones!” She raises her voice, crossing her arms tightly under her chest.
Daniel considers the likelihood of her following through on her threat before saying, “Sergei killed his wife.”
And just like that, it’s out there.
Aurora recoils as if his words have struck her. Her face flashes through confusion, shock, and anger—each emotion fighting for dominance. “What?” she manages to whisper, her voice barely audible.
“Alessia, Sergei’s wife, was murdered five months ago,” Daniel explains, holding up the device.
“I’m investigating her case. I put the UFED in your purse because I’m trying to access Sergei’s system.
This device,” he continues, “is wireless. When placed near a phone or laptop, it allows for remote access.”
He’s telling her more than he thought he would if she ever discovered the device. Perhaps the weight of the secret is heavier than he anticipated, and by sharing it, he hopes to find a momentary reprieve from the crushing loneliness.
Her face drains of color. “What?” Aurora repeats, as if it’s the only word she can manage.
“He killed her, and I’m trying to prove it. I just need to get into his system—”
“Wait,” Aurora interrupts, raising a hand. “Why haven’t the police arrested him yet?” She steps back, knocking into a scattered pair of shoes.
Daniel moves closer to Aurora, approaching her like a suspect in a dimly lit alley. “They don’t have enough evidence. I’m trying to get it.”
“But don’t you have special units that can plant the UFD—”
“UFED,” Daniel corrects her, immediately regretting doing so.
“U.F.E.D.,” she spells out each letter, shooting him a pointed glare. “Don’t you have people who handle this kind of work without dragging me into it?”
Daniel runs his hand through his beard, searching for the right words.
“Daniel?” she presses. “I asked you a question. Why can’t the police… Wait.” Her eyes widen with realization. “Are you… still on the force?” She reads the truth on his face before he even has the chance to answer.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Aurora says, her voice steadying as she pieces it together. “This poor woman was murdered. You believe it’s Sergei—”
“I know it’s him,” Daniel interrupts.
Aurora raises her hand again, brushing aside Daniel’s interruption.
“You think it’s Sergei,” she continues, “so you push. You get fired or suspended, but you don’t stop…
you keep going… you keep investigating.” She paces back and forth, connecting the dots like a detective having a breakthrough.
Daniel’s heart tightens as he recalls the sensation of pulling on a thread, unraveling everything piece by piece.
“And then you decide to plant this… IUD thing in my purse,” Aurora continues, her voice growing more intense, “because, because you found out that I work in his apartment. It’s convenient access. So, I’m just a means to an end. You’re using me!” Her shoulders slump as she looks away.
Again, Daniel remains silent.
“Did it work? Did you get what you wanted?” Aurora fires back, her nostrils flaring.
“No,” Daniel admits.
“Go to hell,” she spits, reaching for the door handle.
Daniel steps in front of her, blocking her path.
“Please. Let me explain,” he begs, desperation thick in his voice.
He inches closer, but Aurora places her hands on his chest, pushing him away.
His skin is still damp from the shower, and the coolness of her palms contrasts sharply with his warmth.
He grips her wrists, his touch firm yet pleading.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did this. I just… He killed her. He’s dangerous, and he has her son…”
At the mention of Misha, Aurora’s eyes snap up to meet his.
“I need to do something,” Daniel continues. “The legality of it…” He takes a deep breath. “I know there’s evidence on his computer that will prove he’s responsible. Please stay and let me explain everything.” He releases her wrists and runs a hand through his wet hair.
Aurora shuts her eyes for several long moments. Daniel is fairly certain he’s stopped breathing, waiting for her response. If she says no—if she walks out of here—she’ll go straight to Sergei, and Daniel will lose his last chance.
When Aurora finally looks up at him again, a sense of resolve shines through. “You’d better order us some food then,” she says firmly.
It takes over two hours for Daniel to lay out all the files he has, the ones Andreas managed to photocopy before the investigation was officially closed.
He presents the evidence in a narrative fashion, meticulously walking Aurora through the details as if she were a juror.
He knows this approach is easier to follow, easier to connect with, and ultimately, easier to believe.
And he needs her to believe.
As she takes her time flipping through the documents, he grabs another beer from the fridge, briefly considering reaching for something stronger.
He doesn’t need to review the files again. Every word, every image, is seared into his memory. This case haunts him. It’s turned him into an insomniac, an alcoholic, and an obsessed individual whose very existence revolves around it. Nothing else matters. No one else matters.
When he returns to the living room, he sinks to the floor beside the couch, where Aurora is absorbed in the coroner’s report. The form, labeled C-659 in bold black letters, is displayed in an old-fashioned font, a relic from the early seventies.
“Name: Alessia Maria Chernov,” Aurora reads aloud.
“External Examination. The deceased is a young woman in her early twenties, dressed in a long black gown and green heels. No jewelry is found on her person, except for a single emerald and diamond earring. Multiple superficial abrasions and contusions are noted on the forehead, face, and upper extremities. A significant laceration measuring approximately three centimeters by half a centimeter is observed on the left temporal region of the scalp. The face and neck are partially stained with blood and debris,” Aurora reads, then pauses, her brow furrowing as she processes the information.
“That’s odd,” she mumbles to herself. “If this were a robbery, why would they leave behind one of the earrings?”
Daniel takes a long sip from his beer, letting the liquid cool off his boiling temper. This was the contentious point he kept screaming at Andreas, at his chief, and at anyone who would listen.
“Maybe they didn’t have time to grab it,” Aurora muses. “Maybe someone almost saw them, maybe—” she continues debating herself, though Daniel stops listening.
Her lips are parted and her eyes distant, lost in thought. He would never admit it, given his disdain for nonprofessionals calling themselves detectives and attempting to solve crimes, but there’s something about her that he deeply admires.
Aurora continues reading, “Internal Examination. A comprehensive internal examination revealed extensive subdural hemorrhaging and cerebral contusions consistent with blunt force trauma to the head. There is evidence of a linear skull fracture extending from the left parietal region to the left temporal region, corresponding with the external laceration. No evidence of pre-existing medical conditions contributing to the cause of death was noted during the internal examination.” She reaches for her bottle of water before continuing, “Toxicology. Postmortem toxicological analysis of blood samples revealed a BAC of 0.055%.”
Aurora pauses again, then asks, “What’s the legal limit in Nevada?”
“She was below the limit,” Daniel says, quickly dismissing any implication that Alessia’s alcohol consumption might have contributed to her death.
He takes another long sip from his beer, finishing it off, then gets up from the floor and walks back to the kitchen.
He throws the empty bottle into the overflowing glass recycling bin and grabs the whiskey from the top of the fridge.
Using his teeth, he uncorks the bottle and spits the cork into his hand.
He had already considered the possibility that Alessia’s alcohol level might have impaired her ability to fight off her attacker. Now he prays to God that the whiskey will numb him before he spirals into another abyss of what-ifs.