“What happened?”
“I was nearly there, nearly ready. I’d completed the contract, and that had netted me another for one of the clients of the firm. My first corporation. It was good work, exhilarating, challenging. I believed, absolutely, my life was about to begin again. And I came out of the client’s building. Houston Street, downtown. I was thinking how I’d go home, change, go to the market and buy myself a good bottle of wine to celebrate. I was thinking the six months I’d set to contact the agent was nearly up. I was thinking of getting a dog, of where I’d want to live when I could really live again. I was thinking of anything but the Volkovs. And he was just there.”
“Who?”
“Ilya. Ilya Volkov and another man—his cousin, I found out later. They got out of a car just as I started for the curb to hail a cab. I almost walked into him. All those people, all that city, and I nearly walked into the man I’d run from for nearly eight years. He looked right at me, and I froze just as I had on the terrace that night. He started to smile, as a man does at a woman who’s staring at him, I suppose. And then he knew me, and the smile went away.”
“He recognized you? Are you sure?”
“He said my name. ‘Liz. Here you are.’ Just like that. He reached for me, he nearly had my arm. His fingers brushed my sleeve before I jerked away, and I ran. He came after me. I heard him shouting in Russian; I heard the car gun away from the curb. I thought, He’ll shoot me in the back, or catch me and drag me into that car.”
She pressed a hand to her heart, rubbed it there as the beat began to thud as it had that day in New York.
“I ran into the street. It was crazy; I was nearly run over. I didn’t care. Anything would be better. I lost my shoes. It was like that night again, running in my bare feet. But I was smarter now. Panicked at first, but more prepared. I knew the streets. I’d studied them, and I’d pulled away when I’d run into traffic, and his driver couldn’t make the turn. I don’t know how far I’d run before I realized I’d gotten away. I got on a crosstown bus, then I got in a cab.”
Too warm now, she thought, and crossed to a window to open it. “I didn’t have any shoes, but no one seemed to notice or care. It was a benefit of a large city.”
“I guess I’m a country boy, as that doesn’t strike me as a benefit.”
“It was that day. When I got home, I got out my go bag. I would have run again with only that, but I calmed down, packed up what I felt I’d need. I wasn’t sure how much time I had. If he’d seen which building I’d come out of, if he’d managed to dig out the name I was using, find my address. I kept a car, in another name, in a garage. It was, I’d thought, worth the expense. And it proved to be true. I called a private car service, had it take me to the garage. They might trace me there, but that would take time. By then I’d be gone, I’d buy a new car, change my ID.”
“Where did you go?”
“I stayed mobile for weeks. Motels, paid cash. I watched Ilya’s e-mail. I learned they hadn’t been able to trace me for several days. I didn’t have to leave so quickly after all. And they weren’t able to trace me once I left the brownstone. No one had seen, or paid attention to, me leaving. But I learned a lesson. I’d gotten careless. I’d let myself plan for a normal life, even in some way to live one. They’d never stop coming after me, so I had to accept the way it was. And do what I could to get justice for John and Terry and Julie another way.
“I’m tied in to the Volkovs’ network—e-mail, e-files, even text messaging. When I have something that seems worthwhile, I leak the data anonymously to the FBI agent I studied and cleared to my specifications. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be safe to use her as contact. If Volkov’s people connect her, they may eliminate her. I think, logically, they’d try to use her to find the source of the leaks before they eliminate her. But that may be worse. They could torture her, and she couldn’t tell them because she doesn’t know. I’d be safe, but she wouldn’t. Neither will you, if you involve yourself.”
“You’d have made a good cop, cyber or otherwise, to my way of thinking. But I am a cop. You’re just a cop’s rich girlfriend.”
“Don’t joke. If they connect you to me, in any way, they’ll kill you. But not just you. They’ll kill your family. Your mother, your father, your sisters, their children. Everyone you care about.”
“I’ll take care of my family, Abigail. I guess we’ll stick with Abigail for now.” He stroked a hand over her hair. “I’ll have to get used to Liz when this is finished.”
“It’s never going to be finished.”
“You’re wrong. I want you to promise me something.” To keep their eyes level, he shifted his hand to cup her chin. “I want your word on this. You won’t run out on me. You won’t run figuring you’re doing what’s best for me and mine.”
“I don’t want to make a promise I might break.”
“Your word. I’m going to trust your word, and you’re going to trust mine. You promise me that, and I’ll promise you I won’t do anything without your full knowledge and approval. That’s no easy promise for me to make, but I’ll make it.”
“You won’t do anything unless I agree?”
“That’s my promise. Now I want yours. You won’t run.”
“What if they find me, the way Ilya did in New York?”
“If you have to run, you run to me.”
“You’re like John. They killed John.”
“Because he didn’t know what was coming. Now, if you look me in the eyes and tell me you’re seriously worried the Russian Mafia’s going to infiltrate the Bickford Police Department, we’ll pack up Bert and whatever else we need and head out tonight. Name the place.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Good. Then promise me.”
“You won’t do anything without telling me. I won’t run without telling you.”
“I guess that’s close enough. You’ve had enough for tonight. We’re going to get some sleep. I’m going to think about all this. I may have more questions, but they can wait. And after I’ve thought on it awhile, we’ll talk about what we’ll do. That’s ‘we.’ You’re not alone anymore. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”
He urged her into bed, pulling her close after he turned off the light. “There. That feels right. Maybe I do have one question for tonight.”
“All right.”
“Did you hack into our system at the station?”
She sighed, and in the dark didn’t see him smile at the sound. “I felt it was important to know details about local law enforcement. The security on your network isn’t very good.”
“Maybe I should talk to the selectmen about hiring you to fix that.”
“I’m very expensive. But under the circumstances I could offer you a large discount on my usual fee.” She sighed again. “I’d secure your personal computer for free.”
“Jesus.” He had to laugh. “You’re in my personal e-mail and all that?”
“I’m sorry. You kept coming here and asking questions. You’d looked up information on me. Well, the information I generated, but it was disturbing.”
“I guess it was.”
“You should be careful, calling the current mayor a fuckwit, even in correspondence with your good friend. You can’t be sure who might see your personal e-mail.”
“He is a fuckwit, but I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned his head, kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”
She pressed her face to the side of his throat. “It sounds lovely in bed, in the dark, when everything’s quiet.”
“Because it’s true. And it’ll be true in the morning.”
She closed her eyes, held the words to her as he held her. And hoped, in the morning, he’d give them to her again.
Elizabeth
Let justice be done,