Cold Silence (A High Stakes Thriller) (23 page)

"No worries. Those articles help?"

"They did."

"But you're looking for something else?"

She glanced over her shoulder, suddenly concerned Dmitri would appear and ruin the surprise. He had a way of sneaking up on her that was unnerving. "I am. I'm hoping to find a waiting list for organ recipients. Same age group."

"Hold on. Let me write this down." There was the shuffle of paper in the background. "You're talking medical records?"

"Right. Anyone waiting to receive a donor organ."

She could hear his pen moving across the page. It stopped. "Any idea what organ?"

She sighed. "No."

"No worries. I think I can handle this."

"I really appreciate it."

"No problem. You're talking same ages, seven to thirteen?"

"Right."

"Ethnicity?"

"Caucasian."

"Sex?"

"Male."

He scratched some more. "Same case number?"

"Yep," she lied.

"I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

"I owe you, Steve."

"Someday I'm going to collect on that, Jennifer."

"You got it."

He laughed and hung up and she stared at the phone, smiling at the sound of his laugh and his pen scratching against the surface of the page. He was so cute, she thought with a bit of guilt.

Just then, the downstairs door slammed and she heard the sound of something crashing to the floor. She glanced at the empty hallway and stood from her chair. She walked to the door, hesitating to call out.

"Jennifer," Dmitri yelled as something else fell to the floor.

"Dmitri?" she called, coming to the top of the stairs.

He stood, rocking on his feet as though trying to keep balance on a boat. His face was pale and shiny. He'd been drinking.

"Are you sick?" She hurried down the stairs, waiting for a response.

He staggered a few feet and then swung back around. He muttered something else, but she only caught the word "father."

"What is it, Dmitri? What's happened?"

He turned toward her, one arm swinging out. "Goddamn asshole," he snarled. "He killed him. He fucking killed him." As he swore, he swung his arm again and the back of his hand connected with her cheek with a sharp sting.

"Ow." She flinched and stepped back.

"Oh, Jesus." He opened his arms and approached her. "I'm so sorry, Jenichka. I'm so, so sorry." He rested his elbows on her shoulders and leaned into her. He was heavy and she struggled to support him.

She pushed him back and took his arm, leading him to the living room. "Who killed who, Dmitri? Who's dead?" She found herself praying it was Oskar. Please let Oskar be dead. What problems that would solve.

Dmitri moaned, his head lolling and his feet stumbling as together they staggered into the living room, he from the alcohol and she from the weight. She lifted his arm off her shoulder and pushed him onto the couch. His head fell back and he let out a loud noise like he was snoring. Then he jolted upright. "I saw him. He didn't want me to, but I did. I had to look." He dropped his head in his hands. "He looked terrible, Jenichka. Terrible."

Jennifer sat beside him on the couch and tucked her feet beneath her. "You're not making any sense. Please tell me what you saw."

His eyes focused on her and he cupped her chin in his palm. "Thank God for you, Jenichka. Thank God for my little
anghel,"
he said, using the Russian pronunciation of "angel."

Jennifer touched his cheek. "I'm here. What happened?"

He shook his head. "It's so terrible. He's a monster. He's a monster and he wants me to be one, too."

She thought he meant his father, but she wasn't getting any clear answers. "Should I start some coffee?"

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. "No. Please don't go. I can't stay long. They can't know I'm here, but I needed to see you."

"What? Who can't know? What are you talking about?" She shook her head. "Dmitri, you're not making any sense."

"I'll tell you. He shot himself. In the head."

"Oskar?" She held her breath for the answer.

"Feliks."

The wind rushed from her lungs, leaving her breathless and suddenly cold.

"Papa killed Gary."

Feliks's lover. She closed her eyes. She adored Feliks and Gary. "Killed him?" she asked almost in a whisper.

"Had it done."

She blinked away the violent image that played in her mind. She'd never heard details of Oskar's work from the family, but she'd read enough of the case files to know it was not the way she wanted to go. She rubbed the shivers off her arms. "Why?"

"As an example."

She choked on the next question. "An example of what?"

"Papa says he betrayed the family."

Each breath made her throat feel smaller. She shook her head, saving the little breath she had.

"It wasn't like you."

She gasped. "Like me?" She sat back, knowing he was referring to the fact that Viktor's location had come from her. "I didn't betray you. It was a mistake—"

"I didn't mean it like that." He put his palms out. "I meant that Gary was stealing. Papa says they were both stealing."

"Feliks was stealing?"

"Papa says he was." He shook his head. "I don't know what to believe. Papa says he didn't kill Feliks. He swears he didn't." Dmitri's expression was fearful and Jennifer felt it was fear for her and not him. She wanted to ask what his father had said about her, but knew it wasn't that easy. Dmitri wouldn't tell her, and it might put him on the defensive. Would he really hurt her? The answer that came to her mind was a resounding
yes.

"Papa said Feliks saw Gary and turned the gun on himself."

She shuddered. She could picture that. Feliks had been deeply in love with Gary and horribly torn about his father's views of his sexuality.

Dmitri rubbed his forehead with both hands, his shoulders shaking.

She leaned against him, unable to find anything to say. It was too terrible. And yet she could think of it only selfishly. How much more Oskar would expect of Dmitri. At least when there were two of them, it alleviated some of the pressure on Dmitri. Now it was only him.

"He's finishing up."

She sat up and pushed the hair off her face. "Finishing up what?"

"He wants it to look like he's in control before he's too sick."

She shook her head. "Sick? What do you mean sick?"

"He's got something."

Jennifer felt her chest expand. It was the evil sense of wishing something bad on someone. She didn't try to stop it. "What does he have?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know he's sick?" she pressed, hoping he wasn't wrong.

"I see him sneaking the pills sometimes when he thinks I'm not watching."

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. I can't tell, but it's getting worse." He focused on the far wall for a moment and then shook his head. "He holds his stomach and I can see that he's in pain." Dmitri dipped his head. "He's getting ready, though. He's very focused on the end, on finishing it."

The panic swelled in her chest. "Finishing what?"

Dmitri blinked and looked at her from the corner of his eye.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, and the look cooled her to the spine. All the moisture seemed to evaporate from the air and it was as though she were sucking on dry ice when she spoke. "What?"

"Viktor."

She blinked and rubbed her hands together. She wondered for a moment if Dmitri had turned the heat down. He did that sometimes. "Viktor?" She paused. The thought of what had happened, of her part in it, still left her cold. If Oskar knew... She shivered. "Finding Megan Riggs, you mean?"

"In part."

"I found something on Megan."

He looked back and his eyes widened, suddenly more hopeful.

She went to her office and opened the drawer. Pulling the phone records out, she returned to him and handed them over. "I was waiting to get confirmation, but I think they're in California."

He scanned the numbers. "You found them."

She exhaled. "Yes. I'm waiting for someone to call me back with more information. I hope to have it tonight or tomorrow."

He looked away, the tears, the affection, suddenly gone.

She watched him, trying to gauge his thoughts, his reactions. She'd thought he'd be thrilled. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "This is good. It will help with Viktor."

She touched his arm and felt the stiffness of his muscles under her fingers. "What else is there?"

When he didn't answer her, she stood, wrapping her arms against the chill in the room. "Is it Feliks?"

Dmitri focused on the far wall. "That's done now."

She tried to turn the conversation, to bring it back in her control. "I'm sorry about Feliks, Dmitri. I really cared for him. Can I help with the service arrangements or anything?"

"I think it will be a family affair," he said.

She frowned at him, though he was not looking at her. Giving him the opportunity to have some time alone, she started for the door. "I can order us some food for takeout if you'd rather stay in tonight...."

He stood, too. "I should go." He walked to her and took her hands. Then he scanned her, head to toe, as though she were something he'd never seen before. Or might never see again.

"Good-bye, Jenichka." He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and walked to the door without turning back.

She stood watching him. He seemed cold and strangely vacant. Somehow she felt he was saying good-bye for good. But instead of feeling lonely or sad, she was filled with the icy awareness of fear.

Chapter 22

Travis pulled his Porsche in front of the green Jeep he knew was Cody's. It was only nine-thirty at night, but from the look of the house, Cody could have been asleep. He knew, of course, that she wasn't.

He wanted to warn her about the news. He'd had no idea what was coming, no idea how they'd found out about the kidnapping. The interviewer had said there was a "rumor" about an abduction. Travis had denied the rumor and confirmed that Peter was home safely in bed. Would the network edit it out when they ran the taped interview tomorrow?

He rapped three times on the door. He heard shoes on the stairs, but when the door opened, it wasn't Cody.

Travis looked over the colonel's shoulder. "Is Cody here?"

"She's a bit busy, Mr. Landon."

Travis smiled. "You playing butler?" he teased, but realized his offense as soon as the words were out.

The colonel raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry. I was just surprised to see anyone answering her door." He tapped his watch. "Especially at this hour."

"I suppose she's probably surprised to be getting visitors at this hour, too."

Travis stepped back and raised his arms. He didn't want to say anything in front of the colonel. Maybe it could wait. "Right. Just tell her I was surprised she didn't make it to the meeting tonight. I was coming to brief her on it."

Just then, he heard the low moan of the stairs.

The colonel turned back, too.

Cody made her way down the stairs. Her dark hair was down, long over her shoulders, and Travis touched his tie awkwardly. It was the first time he'd noticed how well all that hair framed her face, and he realized that besides being lithe and strong, she was really quite beautiful.

She had very narrow, almost catlike light blue eyes with high cheeks and an angular jaw and chin. Her nose was slender with an even upslope, which broke up the sharp edges elsewhere. She ran her hand over her hair as she approached the door as though she knew he was evaluating her features. He forced his gaze back to the colonel, who was giving him a reproachful stare.