When he still doesn’t say anything, she threatens, ‘If you don’t tell me everything, I’ll go to the police and tell them what you and Konstantin have done.’
‘You can’t do that!’ he says finally, clearly alarmed.
‘Then tell me.’
He swallows. ‘I gave Konstantin the key I copied and the security code. He planted the cameras; I wasn’t even there.’ He shifts uncomfortably. ‘But he lets me watch the camera feeds, and I show him when there’s something good. And boy are they guilty.’ His words come eagerly now. ‘I’ve seen them talk about it, lots of times. They talk about how they planned it so perfectly. How no one was there when they pushed him off the boat and left him there to die, so there’s no evidence, no way they’ll ever get caught. About how they’re going to get all that money. They were so pleased with themselves until they found the cameras.’ He snorts derisively. ‘They’re guilty of murder. They should pay.’
Nadya can hardly take it in. The Westcotts are murderers. So it’s true. She can hardly believe it.
He adds, ‘But we still have eyes on them– there are other cameras they don’t know about.’
‘Is this why your laptop was stolen?’ she asks, appalled.
He shakes his head. ‘There’s nothing from the cameras on there. Besides, nobody knows it’s us. The feed goes to an iPhone of Konstantin’s and he backs it all up.’
She sits back in her chair, stunned. Her employers are murderers. It’s a shock. She hadn’t believed it. For once in her life, she’s speechless.
The next morning, Nadya stares at the Saturday newspaper laid out on the kitchen table. They have released the name of the man killed in the home invasion in Brooklyn Heights. Ben Donleavy. She stops breathing. The man’s wife is Lara Donleavy.
Nadya tries to think while her heart pounds. She knows Lara had keys to the Westcotts’ brownstone, at least she did before they’d discovered the cameras and changed the locks. Nadya had even wondered if Lara, and maybe her husband, were the ones who installed the hidden cameras.
Maybe the Westcotts had wondered the same thing.
Would the Westcotts send someone to the Donleavys’ house, to terrorize them,to kill Ben Donleavy?
Nadya sits at the kitchen table, her heart drumming. She thinks they might. She thinks her employers might be monsters.
On Saturday morning, Ramirez throws on some jeans and a sweater, jacket and shoes, and walks to his favourite diner. He likes to get a big greasy breakfast on Saturday mornings– to make up for all the meals he misses when he’s working longhours during the week. He gets a newspaper, takes his time over bacon, eggs, toast, fried potatoes and lots of coffee.
He’s waiting for his breakfast to arrive, paper spread open, and sipping a hot coffee when he sees the story about the home invasion in Brooklyn Heights. They’ve released the name of the man who was killed– Ben Donleavy. Ramirez almost spits out his coffee.
He’s been in that house. He remembers interviewing Ben and Lara there about the Westcotts. What a small world, he thinks.
Chapter Fifty
NADYA FOLLOWS PETERto a run-down gym on a busy street. It’s large and filled with old equipment and mats and smells of sweat. There are men using the weight machines, but not a woman in sight. ‘Konstantin is here?’ she asks.
‘He owns the place,’ Peter tells her.
That gives her pause. ‘Is this where you spend your time?’ she asks him. She knows he works out a lot.
‘Sometimes,’ her son answers. ‘His office is through here.’
Peter leads her down a hall to a closed door and knocks. ‘Come in,’ she hears. It’s a man’s deep voice, with a slight Russian accent.
She takes a deep breath and steps in after Peter. The first thing that strikes her is that Konstantin is much older than she expected. For some reason she thought he’d be closer in age to her son, that he was more a friend than a boss. But this man is her age and owns the gym. She realizes she can’t speak to him the way she speaks to her son. Suddenly her mouth is so dry she can’t speak at all.
‘So, you are Peter’s mother,’ he says. He smiles at her.
She smiles awkwardly back. They stand staring at each other. He’s a big man, powerfully built. Nadya asks herself what the hell she’s doing. She wants to apologize for bothering him and flee. But somehow, she stays.
‘Please, sit,’ Konstantin says, offering her a chair. They all sit down. There is a large, long window that looks out over the gym. She notices that it is smeared with fingerprints. She wants to give it a good clean.
‘So,’ Konstantin begins, ‘what did you want to see me about?’
She shoots a glance at her son, who looks down at his feet. For fuck’s sake, Peter didn’t even tell him what this was about? She glares at her son for a second, but he isn’t looking at her. She turns to Konstantin, who apparently has no idea why she asked to see him. She clears her throat. Trying to find some common ground, she says, ‘I am from Nizhny Novgorod originally.’
‘That’s nice,’ he says.
