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Damien nods. I can’t decipher the sheepish look he wears. “Whatever you say, Boss.”
“Let’s move quickly. I want a full rundown of our new territory so we can bolster the perimeter and—”
A sharp knock on the door alerts us to a visitor. One of my mechanics, complete with grimy hands and overalls, removes his work cap as he steps in. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, sir, but there’s a strange man going around the depot.”
I arch a brow, concerned. “A strange man?”
“He says he’s a detective, but he doesn’t much look like one. He’s been poking around our stuff, making it hard to work.”
I grit my teeth, my molars squeaking inside my skull. “Dammit. I’ll take care of it, Igor. Back to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
Leo shoots me a glance with his one good eye. “Do you want me to take care of it?”
I shake my head. “No. You and Samuil go ahead of me. I’ll deal with the rat myself.”
* * *
Detective Ivanovich lurks between taxis in the parking garage, shining a flashlight through the windows in search of whatever the fuck he thinks he might find. I honestly have no idea what this guy’s problem is, but he’s seriously starting to get on my nerves.
“This is harassment,” I announce, making my way over to him.
“You told me I was free to check the premises,” he says with an innocent smile. Annoyance licks at the nape of my neck, hot and agitating. “I couldn’t conduct my search in one day. Too hard on my old legs, you see. So I decided to come back and continue my look around.”
I swallow my anger and force a plain smile. Roman and Damien will be bringing Sandra up any minute, and I can’t very well have the detective lingering around to witness the whole ordeal. I need to figure out a way to get rid of him—and fast.
“Actually, perhaps you can help me with something,” I tell him. “One of my drivers reported something rather strange earlier this morning. An item left behind by one of our customers. People tend to leave all sorts of things in taxis—all that rushing around. Would you mind coming with me to take a look in our lost and found room?”
Ivanovich hits me with a suspicious squint but reflects my smile all the same. Practiced, polite. “I’d be happy to help, Mr. Nicolaevich. I live to serve, after all.”
I guide him to the front of the taxi depot and show him the small storage room right next to the customer service desk. Our lost and found room is piled high with all sorts of knickknacks—a wide assortment of jackets, a whole bin of lost sunglasses, a rat’s nest of tangled headphones, a lifetime’s supply of umbrellas. It’s honestly a fire hazard. I make a mental note to have one of the office workers donate everything to a local charity.
“What did you want to show me?” the detective asks, looking around curiously.
I peek over my shoulder, noticing through one of the office windows that Roman and Damien have successfully loaded Sandra into the back of one of our taxis, driving away with urgent speed. I resist the urge to let out a sigh of relief. That was a close call. Now if only I could figure out a way to keep Detective Ivanovich from sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong in the future.
I reach past him and pick up a forgotten wallet, money and ID still safely inside. “This.”
“Thisis something rather strange?”
“Did I say that? Oh, I must have misspoken. I figured since you’re with the police department, you could help me return it to its rightful owner.”
The detective plucks the wallet from my hand between stiff fingers. “I suppose I can do that.”
“You’re too kind. Now, if you’d excuse me, I have some important business to attend to.”
“What sort of business?” he asks casually, even though I know for a fact he’s fishing for information.
I shrug, noncommittal. “With my accountant. I have to keep my books straight. What kind of a businessman would I be otherwise?”
The detective grunts, clearly dissatisfied. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
I walk away with purpose, making sure not to go so quickly as to arouse his suspicions. For now, I think Ivanovich will be thoroughly distracted with his inspection of my taxis, which means it’s the perfect time to go back down to the basement and destroy whatever evidence might have been left behind.
There wasn’t much to begin with in the basement storage room, which makes my job easy. I remove the chain from the floor, discreetly pocketing the handcuffs in my jacket. A quick sweep of my shoe over the floor makes a mess of our footprints. If the detective is feeling particularly nosey, he’ll see that someone was down here, but he won’t be able to determine who or what for. I leave the folding chairs where they are since they’re relatively inconspicuous.
Satisfied with my work, I’m just about to leave when something silver catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. A necklace. A delicate chain complete with a heart-shaped locket, forgotten and cold on the floor. I bend over to pick it up, figuring it must have fallen from around Sandra’s neck.
