That’s the problem.
I spend the rest of my day in a bad mood, and then the next couple of days after that.
One morning, Mikhail and I are retracing Oleg’s last days. Turns out he had resurfaced in the city just the week before we found him, there was chatter but not much. Oleg was nobody of consequence, which is why I chose him in the first place. My father had discarded him, and he had used me to get back at him.
I see it so clearly now. I only wish revenge had not blinded me.
Then my phone lights up with Vika’s contact.
Mikhail glances at the screen. “Work?”
“No.”
“Woman?”
I don’t answer.
“That’s a yes.”
I pick up the phone.
Lunch today? You were much more fun in person.
A second message comes in right after.
Come by the house. Papa’s out, Irina’s busy, and Katya is impossible today.
It’s been days since lunch and I still haven’t stopped thinking about Katerina. The pier. Her face when I said I knew the truth. The way she didn’t answer. The way she looked at me like she wanted to hit me and kiss me at the same time.
“I’m going.”
Mikhail looks up from his notes. “Now?”
“Yes.”
He checks the time on his watch. “You’re just leaving?”
I take my coat from the back of the chair. “That’s usually how it works.”
He watches me button it. “And what exactly are you hoping to get out of this?”
“Depends on who talks first.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No,” I say. “It doesn’t.”
Mikhail leans back in his chair, studying me in that calm way of his that makes it obvious he already knows more than he’s saying.
Then he asks, “Do you want me to send anyone with you?”
I think about it for half a second. “No.”
“That’s a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“And you’re doing it anyway.”
