Because for one stupid, terrible second I wanted him to hear it from me and maybe still look at me like I was real.
But I can’t say any of that.
So I say the only part I can survive. “Because it was mine to tell.”
Vaska watches me for a long moment.
Then:
“You left the card.”
I blink.
“What?”
“The card he gave you.” His gaze doesn’t move from my face. “You left it.”
My fingers curl against my thigh. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I laugh once.
It sounds wrong in the room. Thin. Not funny.
“Because I wasn’t taking his money to run.”
The words come out harder than I mean them to. Like they’ve been waiting.
Vaska tilts his head slightly. “And the phone.”
I frown. “What about it?”
“You left that too.”
Oh.
I look away.
Because I hadn’t thought about that part. Not consciously. Not in words.
Because taking it felt too much like staying connected to him. Too much like hope. Too much like keeping a line open I had no right to keep.
I say nothing.
Vaska doesn’t let me hide in it.
“You had access to more than ledgers,” he says. “More than enough time. More than enough proximity.” His eyes flick once over my face, then settle again. “Why only those?”
I hate that question most of all because it has teeth. Because there is no tactical answer.
Only the truth.
And the truth is pathetic.
I swallow hard. “Because Gabriel asked for Smash and Sugar.”
“Eto ne otvet.”
