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.”
