Page 107 of Trust

The crunch of his bones had been one of the most satisfying sounds I’d ever heard.

“Hey, Boss,” Kolya calls out.

I open my eyes and glance over at him. “What?”

“Is it true your new cellist was?—”

“Shut up,” I interrupt harshly. “This isn’t the place for a gossip circle.”

Boris punches Kolya in the arm. “Seriously. You didn’t learn anything when you were locked up the last time?”

“I was seven!” Kolya complains. “You can’t expect a small child to learn these things!”

But he gets the picture. His gaze darts up to one of the cameras in the hallway.

The local cops might not understand Russian, but they can always pull in translators. I’m not going to give them any ammunition to use against us.

The longer we sit here, though, the more time Adam has to hurt Micah. If I thought it would help, I would demand to speak to somebody. A detective, a lawyer, anybody.

It’s another hour before cops arrive to take all three of us away.

I get put into an interrogation room on my own.

Boris and Kolya will know not to say anything without a lawyer. I’m not afraid that they’ll inform on me.

But then, I’d had that same blind faith in Artyom too.

In Micah.

The same detective from the restaurant enters the room and sits down opposite of me.

“Mr. Zima,” she says in a friendly tone. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Detective Amarillo.”

I nod at her. “Nice to meet you. I want to call my lawyer.”

She purses her lips. “Of course. But while we wait for him, maybe we can have a small chat.”

“No,” I say firmly. “No chat without my lawyer.”

I don’t know why she thought she could trick me like that. After another few questions, she gives up and leaves the interrogation room. I sigh and wait until I’m escorted to a phone so I can make the call.

It’s past midnight.

Micah would have packed up his cello by now and been waiting for me to pick him up from the restaurant. We would have gone home, and if we weren’t tired, I’d have sat on the couch with Micah’s head on my thigh.

Shit.

My lawyer arrives and argues with everybody involved, something about human rights violations and amendments and I don’t even care. It results in all three of us getting released from custody, with notice that the department intends to prosecute me for whatever crimes they can slap on me.

“They’ve got nothing,” Milov says. “As long as you all kept your mouths shut.”

Boris and I both look at Kolya.

“I said nothing!” Kolya protests, raising his hands up. “I mean, I told them about the time I robbed a candy store when I was seven. They weren’t impressed.”

“I’ll take a closer look at their warrant. But all this is for the morning. Can’t believe my night was ruined for this.” Milovkeeps complaining about having to get out of bed in the middle of the night. I keep my annoyance to myself, because Milov is a great lawyer who knows a lot of people in St. Petersburg.

Boris ends up following me up to my condo. I don’t tell him off for that, either. If ever it was a good idea to stick together, it would be now.