Entwined with You(68)

“Can we come in, Miss Tramell?” Graves asked in a tone that made the question a demand. She’d tied her curly brown hair back and wore a jacket to cover her holstered gun. There was a satchel in her hand.


“Sure.” I pulled the door open wider. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”


“Water would be great,” Michna said.


I led them to the kitchen and pulled bottled water out of the fridge. The detectives waited at the breakfast bar—Graves with her eyes pinned to me while Michna scoped out his surroundings.


“You just get home from work?” he asked.


I figured they knew the answer, but replied anyway. “A few minutes ago. Would you like to sit in the living room?”


“Here’s good,” Graves said in her no-nonsense way, putting the worn leather satchel on the counter. “We’d just like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. And show you some photos.”


I stilled. Could I bear to see any of the photos Nathan had taken of me? For a wild moment, I thought they might be pictures taken at the death scene or even autopsy shots. But I knew that was highly unlikely. “What’s this about?”


“Some new information has come to light that could be related to Nathan Barker’s death,” Michna said. “We’re pursuing all leads, and you may be able to help.”


I took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m happy to try, of course. But I don’t see how I can.”


“Are you familiar with Andrei Yedemsky?” Graves asked.


I frowned at her. “No. Who’s that?”


She dug in her bag and pulled out a sheaf of eight-by-ten photos, setting them down in front of me. “This man. Have you seen him before?”


Reaching out with shaking fingers, I pulled the top photo toward me. It was of a man in a trench coat, talking to another man about to climb into the back of a waiting town car. He was attractive, with extremely blond hair and tanned skin. “No. He’s not someone you’d forget meeting, either.” I looked up at her. “Should I know him?”


“He had pictures of you in his home. Candid shots of you on the street, coming and going. Barker had the same photos.”


“I don’t understand. How did he get them?”


“Presumably from Barker,” Michna said.


“Is that what this Yedemsky guy said? Why would Nathan give him pictures of me?”


“Yedemsky didn’t say anything,” Graves said. “He’s dead. Murdered.”


I felt a headache coming on. “I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about this man, and I have no idea why he’d know anything about me.”


“Andrei Yedemsky is a known member of the Russian mob,” Michna explained. “In addition to smuggling alcohol and assault weapons, they’ve also been suspected of trafficking women. It’s possible Barker was making arrangements to sell or trade you for that purpose.”


I backed away from the counter, shaking my head, unable to process what they were saying. Nathan stalking me was something I could believe. He’d hated me on sight, hated that his father had remarried instead of mourning his mother forever. He’d hated me for getting him locked up in psychiatric treatment, and my being awarded the five-million-dollar settlement he thought of as his inheritance. But the Russian mob? Sex trafficking? I couldn’t comprehend that at all.


Graves flipped through the photos until she came to one of a platinum sapphire bracelet. An L-square ruler framed it—unmistakably a forensics shot. “Do you recognize this?”


“Yes. That belonged to Nathan’s mother. He had it altered to fit him. He never went anywhere without it.”


“Yedemsky was wearing it when he died,” she said without inflection. “Possibly as a souvenir.”


“Of what?”


“Of Barker’s murder.”


I stared at Graves, who knew better. “You’re suggesting Yedemsky could be responsible for Nathan’s death? Then who killed Yedemsky?”


She held my gaze, understanding the motivation behind my question. “He was taken out by his own people.”


“You’re sure about that?” I needed to know that they knew Gideon wasn’t involved. Yes, he’d killed for me—to protect me—but he’d never kill just to avoid going to jail.


Michna frowned at my query. It was Graves who replied. “There’s no doubt. We have the hit on surveillance footage. One of his associates didn’t take too kindly to Yedemsky sleeping with his underage daughter.”


Hope surged, followed by chilling fear. “So what happens now? What does this mean?”


“Do you know anyone who has connections to the Russian mob?” Michna asked.


“God, no,” I said vehemently. “That’s … another world. I’m having trouble believing Nathan had any connections. But then it’s been years since I knew him …”


I rubbed at the tightness in my chest and looked at Graves. “I want to put this behind me. I want him to stop ruining my life. Is that ever going to happen? Is he going to haunt me even after he’s dead?”