Page 24 of Wayward

“Yeah,” she said softly, her voice barely there, like she was remembering his face. “I never actually saw someone turn gray before. Logically, I knew he’d be shocked, but to see his face when you appeared on screen was…something.” She looked at me intently. “He honestly thought, in his heart, that you were dead.”

“Yes.”

“Because he sent your second-in-command—”

“My best friend,” I corrected her.

“Your best friend…to kill you.”

It was like she was having some epiphany right there beside me.

“I wouldn’t last a day in your world, Maks. That kind of betrayal would break me.”

I wasn’t so sure it hadn’t been the end of me.

The following week, back in her office, we got the news that there would be no trial. As expected, Grigory Lenkov would go to a maximum-security prison for the remainder of his life.

“Is he going to turn state’s evidence for you as well?” I asked Lewis.

She scoffed. “Oh no, Maks,” she assured me. “We don’t need him. We have Constantine, who flipped on all his associates and all your father’s as soon as we showed him that we had a record of all the cash transactions between them. Once you gave us the accounts and access to your safety-deposit box—which no one knew you had—we made the decision to go forward with the prosecution of everyone who’s ever worked for your father.”

“What will happen to Constantine?”

“He’s the one going to ADX Florence. It turns out that because you were running the business for your father for so long, your father doesn’t have the same amount of blood on his hands as Constantine.”

That made sense.

“Eventually, we’ll get everyone.”

I had a twinge of worry for Sava. “Okay.”

“Very smart to get a safety-deposit box in your grandmother’s name.”

I shrugged. “I have my moments.”

“You kept meticulous records. I’m really so impressed.”

“Why? You don’t think criminals can be good businessmen?”

“No, no,” she said, chuckling. “That’s not what I’m saying. What I am saying is that you could be a lawyer with records like that, or a CPA. I mean, seriously, everything is right there, easy to find and access with folders and subfolders, everything labeled, and I have to tell you, your Excel skills put mine to shame.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” I teased her.

“You should have skipped the life of crime and joined the Bureau.”

I grunted.

“All that record-keeping begs the question, though. Why take such meticulous notes? Like down to the time of day when your father pulled the trigger, sent a bribe, or paid off someone to look the other way? I don’t get it. You tied him up in a bow. There’s no wiggle room for him with every transgression accounted for.”

“That’s true.”

“Why?”

I tipped my head. “I always figured he’d turn on me someday. That was my safety net to make sure he couldn’t just make me disappear.”

“Again, your own father,” she said, shaking her head, the heavy ponytail swaying with the slight movement. I thought, again, as I had on our first meeting, how stunning she was. She looked more like a runway model than an FBI agent. “I’m sorry, that’s just mind-blowing to me and goes back to my comment about your old world versus mine.”

Sighing deeply, I said, “I was always certain I’d die young. I was just protecting myself from the threats I knew about.”