18. Artem
Artem
Idon’t think I could have ever imagined overseeing a grave-digging, but here I am. I’d like nothing more than to be following her to her uncle’s, but I promised her I would handle this myself. This is a duty I must endure, and a necessary evil.
I didn’t lie; this is for her. But I can’t help but have my own selfish reasons for trying to solve this. If it really wasn’t her uncle and we find out that we suddenly have a faceless assassin roaming free, I have to handle them. I can’t have them coming back for her.
I don’t deserve her until I fix this. Until I can eliminate all the fucking threats in the world against her, I will gladly spend every night digging up any grave.
I will get my hands dirty for her, so dirty that not even bleach can fix me, if it means she will be alive and clean.
Even once this is solved . . . I am always looking out for the men who killed Sara.
The men who ripped the world from my fucking arms. I will never make that mistake again, will never let Giselle go somewhere unsafe. And once I find them . . .
“Artem, we have to lift her coffin up and out.” Roman calls out to me, and I sigh.
I jump into the hole again, where he and Maxim have her tilted slightly so I can get my arms underneath. We hoist upwards, using our strength to lift her high enough that the coffin hits the edge of the ground above and push so it can slide fully on land.
“How far is this ‘friend’ of yours, Maxim?”
“Well, he’s pretty far out, he likes his privacy.”
Yeah, I bet.
We place her coffin on the rolling boards, and Roman and I push them toward the SUV as Maxim goes back to make sure the grave looks undisturbed until we can return later in the night without the night security noticing.
“She must be at her uncle’s by now,” Roman points out as we walk.
“Yeah, I’m not too much looking forward to the inevitable effect this will have on her. She’s a bit in la-la-land thinking this is going to absolve her uncle from any wrongdoing.”
“Well, there’s a small possibility. If the autopsy shows the same as the one I saw years ago, then it wouldn’t be possible that it was him if he was standing beside her. Physically, at least. He could still have arranged it.”
“But if he arranged it, at least I’m somewhat sure he wouldn’t kill Giselle.
There’s just no motive,” I say as he and I lift her up, grunting with the struggle of the weight of the coffin as we get it onto the bed of the SUV.
“I just feel so hung up on the fact that she was known to be going with her that night. If it was a hit, then whoever did it would have known she’d be there with her mom. Would they have killed her too?”
“Perhaps whoever it was would have left her alive the same way they left her uncle alive?”
“Okay, but again, if it was some . . . unknown force, why the hell would her uncle take the blame for it and leave the Family quietly? It wouldn’t make sense.”
“Easy, he’s protecting someone,” Maxim says as he catches up to us and finally gets in the SUV.
When Maxim speaks those words, Roman and I immediately look at each other. Is that possible? Because the only one he’d protect is . . .
“Leo was barely out of high school at that time, why on Earth would he do that?” I ask.
Maxim and Roman go back and forth with their theories, but I’m stuck on this. Leo is definitely untrustworthy, selfish, and scum, but is he bold enough to murder his own family? I don’t think he has the balls.
“It makes sense, I mean, if somehow they were both planning it, that explains it, right? Maybe they had another motive. One we wouldn’t know about.”
I contemplate each one of them as I listen, and I can’t help the feeling of unease growing inside me.
Have I allowed her to walk into the enemy’s den?
I should have fucking stopped her from seeing her uncle before we had more information, even if it meant tying her up and locking her in the basement to keep her from disobeying.
“I’m sure she’s fine, Leo doesn’t even live with his father, and Robert wouldn’t do anything when people know where she is.” Roman says as he sees me gripping the wheel too tight while they talk.
“Yeah, well, if he does there’s no way we can get to her in time out in the middle of fucking nowhere,” I seethe, glaring at Maxim in the backseat.
“What? There are men with her, she’ll be okay. She’s a big girl, Artem, she can handle herself. You have to start showing her you believe that,” Maxim says as he pats my shoulder.
There hasn’t been a doubt in my mind over the years that she can handle herself, but it doesn’t change how I feel.
It doesn’t change what I know. And at this point I’ve already let myself sink too deeply into her that I can’t just forget her even for a moment.
I can’t stop the never-ending fear she’s placed inside me now that she’s mine.
I also don’t appreciate how close Maxim has gotten with her, I have no idea what the fuck she could see in him that she has weekly movie marathons with him and seeks him out often. To top it off, my little brother is the biggest shit-stirrer on this side of New York.
“Don’t speak to me as if you know her better than me,” I say as I look into his eyes through the rear-view window.
“Well, shit, have you even tried to get to know her now that she’s living with us? Asked her any questions? Or do you do what you always do, and bulldoze through her life assuming—”
“Maxim, I will fucking—” I say as I turn, my main hand leaving the wheel as he laughs and Roman panics and grabs it.
“Okay! Enough, Maxim,” Roman scolds loudly, sighing as I turn back and take the wheel.
When our eyes meet in the rearview again, he laughs at my furious expression and I use my free hand to rip the fucking mirror off of the car and toss it out of the window. “I know her. I don’t need to ask her her favorite color or any shit like that to prove that to you. Or anyone.”
“You’re so defensive, you know that’s a sign of guilt, right?” he coos from behind and I glare at Roman looking for his help.
“Why are you winding him up? He’s on edge.” Roman says as he wipes a hand over his face, stressed out from the night and the fighting.
“Because Giselle is just a girl too. Of course she wishes to talk to you like a normal person when she’s so clearly in love with you.
Imagine how she feels, Artem, she doesn’t feel like she has anyone stable besides us three anymore.
She’s upset about her brother and father, her cousin is away on vacation with her mom because of their drama, and her best friend has been ditching her for her boyfriend, too. ”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked. And she likes to talk.”
I clench my jaw as I take in what he’s said. Did she really say so much to him about her life? When I’m around, she wouldn’t dare admit to me how she feels.
“Just try it out, okay? She needs you more than me, so try not to be a raging douchebag every waking moment,” Maxim finishes softly.
It isn’t that I’m incapable of affection, or that I don’t want her to look at me with those beautiful hazel eyes as if she likes me, but I can’t let myself.
I can’t do that to her when I don’t know if I can protect her yet.
If she loves me, she’ll do something stupid, like try to save me instead of herself when shit goes down.
I have to be selfish a little longer to keep her from becoming that brave.
“You don’t get it Maxim, and you won’t get it until you’re—” I start but stop myself, realizing the gravity of what I almost said.
“Ah, I knew it,” Maxim says smugly.
I really wish I didn’t have to put my trust in Maxim and come to some unknown man’s mortuary in the middle of nowhere, but I guess I’ll try to push my judgement aside for her. I didn’t want to come, but I made a promise to her.
It’s small, unassuming really but most of his arsenal is underground. I knew that Maxim knew someone who will simply burn bodies for him, but I didn’t know how fucking creepy this guy would be.
“So, I’m ready when you are,” the pathologist named Garrett says. Roman and I lift up the coffin, and then he presses the button to make it lift up. We remove the lid, and immediately turn our heads from the smell.
Well, not Garrett. He just watches intently.
“So, how exactly does this work? Since it’s been over ten years?” Roman asks.
“Well, it isn’t uncommon for forensic teams to exhume bodies years after the initial autopsy. But you obviously can’t tell as much as you could when they’re still full of soft tissue.”
I clench my jaw as I force myself to look at the corpse. It makes me sick. It makes me think of Giselle’s heartbreak, looking at this and . . . that this was once someone so important to her.
Worse, it makes me think that this must be how Sara looks now too.
“Wow, never seen one this old,” Maxim says as he goes to touch, and I smack his head.
“Jesus fuck, don’t touch her.”
“Why? Garrett’s going to anyway, I’m trying to learn. Maybe I want to be a mortuary assistant.”
“Yeah, I bet you do, you sick fuck.” As I say that Garrett looks at me, and I realize what I said. I almost apologize . . . almost.
“Seriously? I love Giselle. I want to help her and her mom.”
“Don’t ever say you love my fucking wife again.”
“Damn Artem, you’re so jacked today. What’s your damage?”
“What’s my damage? Seriously? I just had to dig up my wife’s mother’s grave and you think I should be in a good mood? This shit is . . . fucking serious for her, okay?”
I hate the way he’s looking at me, holding back a laugh. Son of a bitch.
“Well, I’m going to need a little time, you guys can go upstairs if you want, I have coffee or tea or whatever,” Garrett says.
I nod and when all three of us go upstairs, I can’t relax. I’m pacing the room as Maxim sighs deeply from the armchair.
“Seriously? Can you sit down? You’re making me dizzy.”
“Are you sure your friend isn’t going to do something weird? And aren’t bodies buried that long fragile?” I ask.
“No. Well, maybe a little. I don’t know, he’s a professional, Artem.”
“Yeah, a professional grave digger. That guy isn’t fucking licensed for anything.”
“Didn’t know you were a stickler for the rules, big bro, I thought that was Roman’s shtick.”
“Leave me out of your circus, Max,” Roman sighs as he tries to ignore our bickering.
I put my hand over my mouth, contemplating whether I’ve fucked up yet again, and if this ends up not yielding results, it would hurt her.
“Look, is it fucked up? Yes. Is it probably morally wrong? Yes. Is it—”
“Skip to the fucking point,” I seethe as I turn to him.
“We can’t help figure this out if we don’t do this, right?
Giselle doesn’t need to know if we don’t find anything.
We’ll put her mom right back where she belongs, and she’ll be okay.
And hopefully we get answers, and I know Giselle feels uncomfortable with it but she’ll be relieved to have answers. ”
I run my hands over my face, sighing. God, I hope this was worth it. I grab my phone, needing to check if she’s okay but realize I have no service. Of course. I slam my phone down onto the small table.
“Lenny is with her, don’t worry too much. The moment we get out of here and hit service again, I’ll call him,” Roman assures me.
I don’t fucking like being this disconnected to her, anything can go wrong in a short period of time like this. Not just her safety, but I fear the possibility she shows up and he turns her away. He could be unwilling to talk about any of it, and that would devastate her right now.
It feels like hours before Garrett calls us to come down again, and we go down the metal steps again as my eyes linger on the body covered in a white cloth.
“So, she was certainly shot twice,” he starts as he lifts the cloth, showing us an exit hole represented by a large spread fracture near where her cheek would be. “This one is the fatal cranial wound. The entry point is posterior occipital, back of the head and slightly right center.”
He covers her again and slides over a CT image.
“The defect is small and relatively clean, which is consistent with an entrance wound. If this had been frontal impact, we wouldn’t see beveling like this.
” His finger traces a line on the image.
“Based on the trajectory, I’d have to assume the perpetrator was behind her but elevated, and that likely they were a significant distance from the victim due to the nature of the exit wound. ”
I nod as he goes on, following along with his explanation as I examine the images.
“The second wound is here,” he explains, pointing to the neck on the image.
“The soft tissue is gone, obviously, but the anterior damage to the cervical vertebrae suggests projectile trauma. There’s abnormal fracturing along C2 and C3.
I’d theorize from my experience this was the first shot and was a miss, the fatal shot would be to the back of the head. ”
“In that case, it couldn’t have been a professional sniper,” Roman states, looking at me.
I look over at the pathologist who shrugs. “I only specialize in the dead, not the living. I can only tell you the facts.”
“Well, we can’t hang longer man,” Maxim says as he shakes Garrett’s hand. “We gotta get her back.”
He helps us get her gently back inside her coffin, and we use his gurney to bring her back to the SUV, pushing the coffin back inside and closing the trunk.
“You have the papers?” I ask Roman, and he holds the documents Garrett gave us up for confirmation. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I say with a nod as I take a last look around and get in the car.
The pathologist confirmed what we already suspected could be possible, but I can only hope that this will be enough for her to realize she can’t trust anyone in her family. I hope that it isn’t too late for her to believe the truth.