I allow a wry smile to form on my lips, thinking of the piece of shit in the trunk, knowing I have the same plan, though my way of getting information will likely involve a hell of a lot more blood.
“I’m sure you will,” I say.
Amalie’s watching the two of us with a worried expression as if she’s afraid a fight might break out at any moment. But that’s not on my agenda.
Max turns to me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to pull a stunt like this tonight?”
I raise my eyebrows slightly. “Are you suggesting I held this gala knowing some damn fool might shoot up the place?”
He shrugs. “Just saying you probably have some enemies in mind.”
Max is right about one thing. I do have someone responsible in mind.
Garin.
I think about the way he’d been hiding behind that column, how he’d fled the scene. I haven’t seen him since.
“How about this,” Max suggests, turning to face me. “You come down to the station and we’ll talk, see if you know anything that could help us. And we get her,” he nods his head toward Amalie, “someplace safe. No offense, but being near you seems to have her in a constant state of danger.”
I can’t help but laugh, even though I know I shouldn’t. “You must not be thinking clearly if you believe I’ll be going anywhere with you, Detective Russo. And neither will she.”
He steps a couple of inches closer. “That right? Maybe we should ask her instead of you making decisions on her behalf.”
I remain where I stand. “That is right. She’s had a difficult enough evening without you assailing her with questions. If you wish to speak to her, it will be tomorrow, at the soonest—with a lawyer present.”
He looks me up and down as if he might find a physical weak point on my body he could poke at. His jaw works, his eyes narrow. For a moment, I think he might take a swing at me.
“Barinov.” I turn to see Kyle approaching us. He gives me a brief glance before blowing past me to his sister.
I follow and so does Max. I watch as he gives his sister a hug, then a once-over.
“What the hell happened?” he’s asking as I approach.
“I don’t know exactly. All of a sudden someone just started shooting,” she says, still in a bit of a daze.
“Were you a target?” Kyle asks.
“I appreciate that you want answers, Detective Denning,” I cut in. “And that you’re worried for your sister’s well-being. But all questions will be answered with lawyers present.”
Kyle shakes his head. “We’re going to need statements. From you. From the security team. From anyone who saw the shooters. From every guest still here.”
He doesn’t need to know I already saw two of them. Or that I’m going to be seeing one of them again in just a little while.
“Then begin your information gathering there. For Amalie and me, statements will be given tomorrow, with lawyers present.”
Kyle lets out a sigh of frustration—he knows there’s nothing he can do. He glances at Amalie.
“Tomorrow,” she says. “I need time.”
He frowns and nods.
Max scoffs. “Through counsel. You’re absolutely going out of your way to make our jobs harder than they need to be.”
Kyle raises a palm as if to say easy. “Max, coordinate with patrol, lock down the perimeter. I’ll handle this.”
Max huffs at being dismissed. His eyes dart to Amalie, then to me. Whatever he’d been hoping to accomplish tonight with her, it’s not working.
“Whatever.” With that, he turns and leaves.
