“Please,” she says, pausing, her eyes welling up. “Just listen, okay?”
I nod and let her go on.
“He said that the model car he was driving didn’t have any major recalls before or after the year of the accidents. So, I did a little more research to see if there were any instances of the brakes spontaneously going out on a car of that type. There wasn’t any. In fact, Nikita’s car had a really high safety rating.”
I look down at the police report and at the paper she’s got her finger on—a copy of a consumer’s report from the year of Nikita’s death. She’s also got photos buried under some of thepapers and from what I can see, they are of the car the night of the accident.
“There’s also the part of Nikita’s autopsy report,” she says and pauses to look through the pile. “I must have left it at home. Anyway, his toxicology report didn’t make any mention of alcohol in his system. The police stated that he was drunk. That both he and Viktor were drunk.”
I frown a little, partly wondering how she got hold of that report, but mostly interested in what Nikita and Viktor would have been doing out drunk together in the first place.
“So,” she continues, “I remembered that Nikita was talking a lot about getting out of the Bratva. I didn’t take any of it seriously, at first. I mean… he always seemed like he was joking. But then I started wondering if he really was joking, after all.”
“Marla, are you suggesting that my father had something to do with his death?”
“No. Well. Not him, specifically. But maybe someone from his camp. Somebody who maybe heard him joking around like that and decided…” She stops, her eyes reading my face. “You’re not buying any of this, are you?”
“I didn’t say that,” I say. I look back down at everything she’s laid out in front of me. How long has she been researching this idea?
“Don’t tell me that you think they wouldn’t do something like this,” she says. “You and I both know people who have disappeared for less. And the whole credo of the brotherhood is to never fully trust anyone.”
She’s not wrong. Though neither of us has really been part of the life, we’ve been adjacent enough to have some of it affectus. We’ve both known people who were ‘mysteriously’ killed for talking too much to the wrong people or just too much in public spaces.
“Somebody would have to think he was being serious,” I tell her. “More importantly, I’m pretty sure they’d have to get approval from my father, and monster that he is, there’s no way in Hell that he’d order a hit on his only son.”
“So, what if somebody killed him without your father knowing about it?” she asks. “I mean, think about it. Somebody who had a bone to pick with him about something else entirely and he decides that he can use Nicki joking about leaving them to get others on his side. It’s possible, right?”
It is. And I hate that it is. “Who else have you told?”
She hesitates, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. “Just you. But I went to a lawyer already to talk about my options in hypotheticals. I’m thinking about going to the Feds with this.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Marla?—”
“Tati, they killed Nikita. I know they did. They killed your brother in cold blood and they’ve been walking around free for seven years. Somebody’s got to pay for his death.”
She’s convinced and… and honestly, I can’t say I’m not convinced. It sounds about as plausible as any other hit I’ve heard about through the Bratva party line. She starts gathering up her papers and putting them back in the manila envelope.
“I know what going to the Feds means, Tati,” she says. “And if I could think of another way, I would take it. But I can’t let this go. I just can’t.”
I watch her stuff the papers back in at a near-frantic pace. She looks more than just distressed. She looks scared, and I can’t blame her. I can’t imagine the kind of courage she has to even come to me with this.
I reach out and touch her hand, stopping her for a moment. “You’re right. He was my brother and if somebody killed him, they deserve to pay for that. Maybe let me do a little snooping instead. I’m on the inside and nobody would ever suspect?—”
Her eyes get large and she says, “No. Please. Don’t, Tati. This is way too dangerous. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you, too.”
“Well, I feel the same way.” I let her hand go, and she finishes putting her papers away. “Are you being careful? I mean, seriously.”
“I am. Nobody but you knows I’m even looking into this. I’ve been staying away from anybody remotely connected to your father’s Bratva. And I’ve taken precautions, too.”
“Precautions?”
She nods and starts to answer when she spots something just over my shoulder and her face blanches. She shoves the manila folder back into her bag quickly. Before I can ask what’s up, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Tati?”
I look up to see Viktor standing next to me.Oh… no…
“Viktor,” I say. “Um, hi.”
