I stare at the word, my mind racing through possibilities. Bayou? What the fuck does that mean? There aren't any bayous in this state. Not anywhere near here that I know of. And certainly not in Russia, at least not where we're from.
Mariya peeks around me, and for once, she doesn't seem cautious about getting too close. Her shoulder brushes against my arm as she leans in to look at the paper. "What's that?"
I glance down at her, surprised by the genuine confusion in her voice. "You don't know?"
"No." She reaches for the paper, but I pull it away. "I've never seen that before. I didn't even know the brooch opened."
I believe her. The shock on her face is too real to be faked. Which means her father hid this without telling her. But why? What does "bayou" mean?
"Could it be a code?" Mariya asks, her brow furrowing as she thinks. "Maybe it's not actually referring to a bayou. Maybe it's… I don't know, an acronym or something?"
"Maybe." I turn the paper over, but the back is blank. Just that one word on the front. "Or it could be a location. Somewhere your father went or planned to go."
"But there aren't any bayous around here." She's still standing close, close enough that I can smell her shampoo again. That floral scent has been driving me crazy. "And I can't think of anywhere in Russia that would fit, either."
We stand there in silence for a moment, both of us staring at the paper like it might suddenly reveal its secrets. My mind works through possibilities, trying to connect this single word to everything I know about Yegor Pushkin and the missing heirlooms.
Could it be a meeting place? A safehouse? A location where he hid something valuable?
"What about Louisiana?" Mariya suggests suddenly. "There are bayous there. Lots of them."
"That's miles away." I shake my head. "Why would your father hide something that far from here?"
"I don't know. But if he was trying to keep it safe, maybe distance was the point." She looks up at me, and those green eyes are bright with something that looks almost like hope. "Maybe he hid your family's heirlooms somewhere no one would think to look." She frowns. "Ifhe really took them, like you accused."
It's possible. Pushkin was smart, careful. If he wanted to hide something valuable, he'd put it somewhere unexpected.Somewhere that would take years to find, if anyone found it at all.
But Louisiana? That seems too obvious. Too easy.
"I need to think about this," I say, folding the paper and slipping it into my pocket. "Figure out what this means."
"Can I have the brooch back?" Mariya asks quietly.
I look down at the piece in my hand, then at her face. The desperation is back, but it's different now. Softer. More vulnerable. She just wants this piece of her mother back.
I hand it to her, and her fingers close around it immediately, clutching it to her chest like it's the most precious thing in the world. The thought makes something twist in my chest, but I push it away. I can't afford to feel sorry for her. I can't afford to let sympathy cloud my judgment.
"Thank you," she whispers.
I nod once, then turn and head for the door. I need to talk to Matvey, figure out what "bayou" means, and whether it's actually a lead or just a dead end.
As I reach for the handle, Mariya speaks again. "Andrey?"
I pause, looking back at her.
"I really didn't know about that paper." Her voice is soft, almost pleading. "I'm not trying to hide anything from you. I want to help. I want this to be over."
"Then let's hope this actually leads somewhere," I say and walk out.
The lock engages behind me with that familiar click, and I make my way through the hallways to my office. Matvey is already there, standing by the window with his arms crossed over his massive chest. He turns when I enter, his dark eyes immediately going to my face.
"Nose okay?" he asks.
I touch my nose gingerly. It's still tender, but the bleeding stopped a while ago. "I'll live. She's got a hell of a right hook, though."
His lips twitch in what might be amusement. "Warned you."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting her to punch me the second I walked in." I move to my desk and pull out the paper, spreading it flat on the surface. "Look at this."
