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I shook my head. Jonathan’s spreadsheet deserved another look — especially for the entities in the top ten. Sergei might have done the deed, but there were other players who had financed him.
“You helped me,” I said. “Why?”
“With you, the heir, in my corner, I knew I could get the biggest slice of all,” Sergei said. “And even more money than they gave me to end your parents.”
“Why not kill me too?”
“I had to earn your trust, first,” he said. “And when I figured out that you were actually good at running things, I decided to sit back and let you sweeten the pot — earn my money for me. You’re good at what you do, Misha. I’ve been proud of you.”
“It’s Mr. Turgenev to you,” I said. “You threatened my family — my blood. The mother of the woman I love. The grandmother to my children. I should kill you.”
“Finish it, then.”
Police officers shouted as they ran into the room.
“I think you’ll do better in prison,” I said, letting the cops have him. “Fuck you, Sergei. You were nothing like family.”
* * *
“I love those children more than life itself,” I told Mamachka as we were driving back to Smythe.
“I know you do, honey,” she said, patting my knee.
“And your daughter…”
My voice broke, and Mamachka continued to pat my knee.
“You don’t have to say it, Misha. I know. I know.”
* * *
The kids were in bed by the time we arrived. Sadie ran out of the house to meet us, clinging to both of us and sobbing.
I stayed the night, just in case — on the couch — to give them a little security.
I woke up in the wee hours to find Sadie curled up beside me, her hands fisted in my shirt.
