that.”
“The burly man pushed Alex to his knees. And then Korotkii took a gun from behind his back. He must have had a holster. I didn’t see. He shot him here.”
Elizabeth touched her fingers to her forehead.
“He put the gun against his forehead, and he shot him. It wasn’t loud at all. Then he shot him twice more. Here.
“I almost screamed. I had to put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. Korotkii called Alex a … It’s a very strong Russian oath.”
“You speak Russian.”
“Not fluently. I’d never heard the expression before, but it was … self-explanatory. I only mention it because that was how quick it all happened. He called Alex, even though he was dead, a name. Then Julie came in, from the kitchen direction. There’s a powder room off the kitchen. She said, ‘Alex, I don’t feel good. We should—’ That’s all she said. Korotkii turned, and he shot her. She fell. I could see she was dead, but he shot again. And he cursed in Russian. I couldn’t hear for a minute. There were screams in my head. I couldn’t hear. Then I heard Ilya. I thought they would kill him, too. I wanted to warn him, to help him. And then …”
“Take a minute.” Riley spoke gently in what Griffith knew wasn’t his going-in-soft voice but sincere concern. “Take your time.”
“They spoke in Russian, but I could understand all—or nearly all—of it. Ilya was angry, but not so much that Alex was dead.”
She closed her eyes, took a breath, and relayed the conversation she’d heard word for word.
“That’s pretty exact,” Riley commented.
“I have an eidetic memory. I ran, because Ilya knew I’d come to the house. I knew he’d ask about me. I knew they’d kill me, too. So I ran. I didn’t pay attention to where I ran—I just ran. I left my shoes. I couldn’t run in the shoes, the heels, so I left them on the terrace. I didn’t think. I just reacted. If I’d thought, I would’ve taken them with me. They must have found the shoes. So they know I saw. They know I heard.”
“We’re going to protect you, Elizabeth. I promise you.” Griffith reached out, laid her hand over Elizabeth’s. “We’re going to keep you safe.”
Griffith stepped out of the room with Riley, clamped her hands on her head. “Jesus Christ, Riley, Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. Do you know what we’ve got?”
“We’ve got an eye witness with a memory like a computer, whospeaks Russian. We’ve got motherfucking Korotkii, that slick bastard Ilya Volkov. And if God’s good, we’ll get Sergei. If she holds up, she’ll break the back of the Volkov crew.”
“She’ll hold up.” Eyes hard and bright, Griffith glanced toward the door. “We’ve got to call in the brass, Riley, get her into a safe house. We’re going to need the U.S. Marshals Service.”
“Screw that.”
“We ask, or they take. We ask, we stay in.”
“God damn it, I hate when you make sense. Let’s get it started. You know what else I noticed about the witness?”
“What’s that?”
“She looked nearly as sick about her mother coming in as she did about the rest of it.”
“I think getting grounded’s the least of her worries.”
E LIZABETH LET IT BLUR . It didn’t matter where they took her. She wanted only to sleep. So she slept in the car with the two detectives and Ms. Petrie. When the car stopped, she got out without complaint, all but sleepwalking into a small, clapboard house. She accepted the T-shirt and cotton pants Detective Griffith gave her, even managed to change into them in the small bedroom with the narrow twin bed. She feared her dreams but was powerless against the exhaustion.
She lay on top of the bed, used the cop blanket to cover herself. She felt the tears slide through her lashes as she closed her eyes.
Then she felt nothing.
She woke midday, dry and hollow.
She didn’t know what would happen next. All of her life she’d known exactly what was expected of her, when it was expected. But
“The burly man pushed Alex to his knees. And then Korotkii took a gun from behind his back. He must have had a holster. I didn’t see. He shot him here.”
Elizabeth touched her fingers to her forehead.
“He put the gun against his forehead, and he shot him. It wasn’t loud at all. Then he shot him twice more. Here.
“I almost screamed. I had to put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. Korotkii called Alex a … It’s a very strong Russian oath.”
“You speak Russian.”
“Not fluently. I’d never heard the expression before, but it was … self-explanatory. I only mention it because that was how quick it all happened. He called Alex, even though he was dead, a name. Then Julie came in, from the kitchen direction. There’s a powder room off the kitchen. She said, ‘Alex, I don’t feel good. We should—’ That’s all she said. Korotkii turned, and he shot her. She fell. I could see she was dead, but he shot again. And he cursed in Russian. I couldn’t hear for a minute. There were screams in my head. I couldn’t hear. Then I heard Ilya. I thought they would kill him, too. I wanted to warn him, to help him. And then …”
“Take a minute.” Riley spoke gently in what Griffith knew wasn’t his going-in-soft voice but sincere concern. “Take your time.”
“They spoke in Russian, but I could understand all—or nearly all—of it. Ilya was angry, but not so much that Alex was dead.”
She closed her eyes, took a breath, and relayed the conversation she’d heard word for word.
“That’s pretty exact,” Riley commented.
“I have an eidetic memory. I ran, because Ilya knew I’d come to the house. I knew he’d ask about me. I knew they’d kill me, too. So I ran. I didn’t pay attention to where I ran—I just ran. I left my shoes. I couldn’t run in the shoes, the heels, so I left them on the terrace. I didn’t think. I just reacted. If I’d thought, I would’ve taken them with me. They must have found the shoes. So they know I saw. They know I heard.”
“We’re going to protect you, Elizabeth. I promise you.” Griffith reached out, laid her hand over Elizabeth’s. “We’re going to keep you safe.”
Griffith stepped out of the room with Riley, clamped her hands on her head. “Jesus Christ, Riley, Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. Do you know what we’ve got?”
“We’ve got an eye witness with a memory like a computer, whospeaks Russian. We’ve got motherfucking Korotkii, that slick bastard Ilya Volkov. And if God’s good, we’ll get Sergei. If she holds up, she’ll break the back of the Volkov crew.”
“She’ll hold up.” Eyes hard and bright, Griffith glanced toward the door. “We’ve got to call in the brass, Riley, get her into a safe house. We’re going to need the U.S. Marshals Service.”
“Screw that.”
“We ask, or they take. We ask, we stay in.”
“God damn it, I hate when you make sense. Let’s get it started. You know what else I noticed about the witness?”
“What’s that?”
“She looked nearly as sick about her mother coming in as she did about the rest of it.”
“I think getting grounded’s the least of her worries.”
E LIZABETH LET IT BLUR . It didn’t matter where they took her. She wanted only to sleep. So she slept in the car with the two detectives and Ms. Petrie. When the car stopped, she got out without complaint, all but sleepwalking into a small, clapboard house. She accepted the T-shirt and cotton pants Detective Griffith gave her, even managed to change into them in the small bedroom with the narrow twin bed. She feared her dreams but was powerless against the exhaustion.
She lay on top of the bed, used the cop blanket to cover herself. She felt the tears slide through her lashes as she closed her eyes.
Then she felt nothing.
She woke midday, dry and hollow.
She didn’t know what would happen next. All of her life she’d known exactly what was expected of her, when it was expected. But
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