The moment ends, reality snapping into focus.
I lower Sasha to the ground, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Inside. Now.”
“What’s happening?” Amalie asks. Her smile is long gone.
“Inside,” I repeat with a sharper tone.
The front of the house erupts into controlled chaos. Security moves, staff makes themselves scarce, and Andrei is barking orders in Russian to legal counsel on his phone.
A woman in a pantsuit steps forward, badge visible. A man next to her clutches a clipboard like it’s a weapon he’s ready to fire.Cops step out of their police cruisers, hanging back, peering at the estate.
“Miss,” I say, standing between her and the house. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Mr. Barinov. I’m Sheila Ford with Chicago CPS.” She hands me a business card. I glance at it, then tuck it into my coat pocket. “We’ve received an anonymous report expressing concern for a child residing at this address.”
An anonymous report. Of course.
“What sort of report?”
She runs down the list. “Firearms, criminal activity, unsafe environment.” I listen without interrupting, knowing that disputing whatever she says won’t do me any favors.
“This is bullshit,” Amalie mutters under her breath.
Miss Ford either doesn’t hear her or does but chooses not to say anything. I flash Amalie a quick look, letting her know without words that she needs to keep quiet.
“We’re going to take a brief look around, if you don’t mind,” Miss Ford says.
It’s a perfunctory statement. It’s not like I can tell her no without risking serious consequences. Sheila and a few of her associates that rode with the cops enter the house and fan out. The cops have no warrant and they hang back, looking like they’re just itching for me to do something so they can arrest me.
My jaw clenches and my muscles tense. I have a damn good idea who’s behind this.
I look at Amalie. “This is because of your brother, isn’t it?” I accuse, my voice low so the cops don’t hear.
She snaps her head toward me. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. This is his way in.”
Her eyes flash. “You thinkIdid this?”
“I think someone close to you did. Fucking CPS is in my house!”
She stares at me with the same sort of shock I’d expect as if I’d struck her. “Roman, you can’t be serious. There’s no way I’d put Sasha, or you, for that matter, through something like this.”
The CPS agents are moving around inside. I end the conversation with Amalie and hurry into the house. Sasha’s in the entry hall with Andrei. The poor boy clearly has no idea what’s happening.
The team of a half-dozen agents are poking around, checking rooms, opening drawers, writing notes in their little books. I’m not careless. Everything that could potentially incriminate me is either off-site or hidden in places where they’d never think to look.
Sasha stays close. Amalie says nothing.
After approximately thirty minutes of searching, Miss Ford and the agents gather in the entryway. They found nothing because there is nothing to find.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Barinov.” She hands me an official form and leaves. The cops follow, their eyes on me as they file into their cruisers.
Sasha presses his face into my coat, confused and frightened. I kneel down and hold him tight, my jaw locked, rage simmering.
I glance at the form. “Unsubstantiated. No further action at this time,” I read aloud.
The house is quiet again.
