Page 94 of Her Darkest Possession

Roma checks his watch. "Once I deliver this? A few hours, maybe. Depends on how much the cops want to feel like a bunchof assholes." He slides his gun into his shoulder holster and buttons his jacket over it. "Just wait here for the good news."

"I will," I say. "Bring him home."

Roma nods, his eyes softening slightly as he looks at me. It's the most human expression I've seen on his face since I met him.

"You should rest a bit. It's been a long day."

I shake my head. "I'll rest when all of you come back safe."

As Roma reaches for the doorknob, I suddenly remember what happened to Svetlana when she left the house. The image of her bleeding on the sidewalk flashes through my mind.

"Roma," I call, making him pause. "Be careful, okay?"

He turns, a grim smile playing at his lips. "Don't worry about me, Indigo Malcolmovna. I can take care of myself."

Without waiting for me to answer, he closes the door behind him.

But it does nothing to assure me.

Because I remember what happened the last time someone else told me that.

27

ANATOLY

The interrogation roomat the NYPD is exactly what you'd expect.

Cramped, uncomfortable, and smelling faintly of desperation and bad coffee.

What a shame that I had to experience this twice in less than twenty-four hours.

Unfortunately for me this time, it was much easier yesterday to leave.

Detective Webb stares at me, drumming his fingers across the table impatiently while he waits for Kaufman to finish reviewing the security camera footage with forensics on the other side.

"You know, Baryshev," he says, tapping his pen against a manila folder. "I don't think your fancy lawyer is going to pull a rabbit out of his hat this time."

Roma had delivered the footage personally a few moments ago. Apparently, there was something wrong with the internet at themansion that forced him to come out here personally with the footage.

A pain in the ass for everyone involved, but now the pieces are in place and the only thing to do is wait.

In the meantime, Webb is taking every opportunity he can to push my buttons in the hopes of getting me to say something I'm not supposed to.

I offer him a neutral smile. Well, more of a smirk if you have to put a name to it. It's not enough to be overtly dismissive and confrontational, but also not meek enough to make him think he's got me cornered.

I know how this game is played.

Cops will do anything and everything to get the accused to slip up under pressure. And once you say something—anything—they'll take that opportunity and throw the book at you.

They're not fucking around when they say anything you say can and will be used against you.

I've seen men get put away for the dumbest shit they've said. So, I keep the smile on my face and let Webb talk.

"We have multiple officer statements confirming that you threw Ryan Bennet through a glass window. Hell, I watched it myself last night on the news." Webb flips open the folder, though I know it's just for show. "Assault and battery, at the very least, and that's before we even talk about the shit that went down today. Mr. Bennet would've pressed charges if he weren't, you know... dead. So, why don't you stop wasting both our times and make this easier?"

My eyes flick to the clock on the wall.

"Nothing to say?" Webb prods, leaning closer. "No clever explanations? No attempt at arguing about how you're innocent?"