Page 75 of Beautiful Agony

"Oh come on, Elwood, your personal feelings about me aren't relevant here." Aleksey's voice carries that practiced blend of amusement and warning. "What's relevant is that my client has information about Nathan Walker's death that she'd like to share. So can we cool it with the personal attacks?"

Rutledge's jaw clenches. I can see the wheels turning behind those sharp eyes—the same eyes that give my ring a passingglance—before he reaches for a notepad, his movements deliberately slow.

"Very well," he says finally. "Tell me what you know about Nathan Walker's death."

I take a deep breath, borrowing strength from the familiar weight of the necklace against my chest. “Nathan was involved with a man named Kirsan Kuular," I say, my voice even. "He helped facilitate a human trafficking network that spans multiple continents."

Rutledge leans forward, his expression hardening. "That's quite an accusation. Do you have any proof to back this up?"

"Actually," Aleksey speaks up from beside me, reaching for his briefcase, "we do."

My stomach churns as he takes out Vadim's list—the same one that started all of this when I accidentally took his suit jacket from Mrs. Klossner's. The paper looks so innocent, but I know the horror it describes.

Aleksey slides it across the table to Rutledge.

I watch as Aleksey leans forward, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. "Tell me, Elwood, are you on social media these days? TikTok? Twitter?"

Rutledge's weathered face creases with mild annoyance. "No, I'm not."

"Then you might have missed the viral shit storm that's been brewing for the past five weeks." Aleksey's finger taps the list meaningfully. "Women from all over have been coming forward, sharing their stories of abuse and exploitation at the hands of traffickers operating in the fashion industry."

"I'm aware of the Seattle Voice's coverage," Rutledge says, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Then you'll understand what that is.” Aleksey points to the list. "These aren't just SKUs, Captain. Each one represents a human being put up for sale. And these boutique fashion brands? Fronts for trafficking operations."

My stomach churns as I watch Rutledge examine the list more closely. The memory of Taliya's bruised face from Megan's interview flashes through my mind, and I have to grip the arms of my chair to keep my hands from shaking.

"And how exactly is this connected to Nathan Walker?" Rutledge asks, looking up from the list.

"I heard Nathan mention Chrysalis Designs several times before he died. He was working on finalizing some deal with them." The memory of finding him with Caroline flashes through my mind, how that betrayal led me to discover something far darker. "He seemed excited about it, said it would be his biggest commission yet. I'm sure Caroline would be able to verify that if you were to ask her."

"We have good reason to believe that Mr. Walker got careless with his bookkeeping," Aleksey cuts in smoothly, "The kind of carelessness that someone like Kirsan Kuular doesn't forgive."

I lean forward, seizing the moment. "You said it yourself when I was last here—Nathan's death had all the hallmarks of Russian mafia involvement." My voice stays steady even as my stomach churns at the memory of those clinical details. "The way his body was processed, the removal of identifying features..."

Rutledge's weathered face remains impassive as he studies us both. "That's all true," he says slowly, setting down his pen. "But..."

His razor-sharp eyes narrow, and I can see the doubt creeping in.

Rutledge's eyes drop to my hands, still wrapped in bandage, but his gaze is reserved for my finger.

"That ring wasn't there five weeks ago when you first came to see me." He points. "And I still haven't forgotten that you gave me a very unconvincing reason for how you knew the word 'bratva' before Mr. Sterling-Wright whisked you away."

I force myself to hold his stare.

"And if what you're saying about the fashion industry is true," he continues. “It seems awfully convenient that you're coming to me now with evidence that only Svoboda seems to have, when they're one of the biggest players in fashion."

"Elwood," Aleksey says. “Are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you accusing Svoboda of involvement in human trafficking?"

"Yes, Mr. Sterling-Wright, that's exactly what I'm suggesting." Rutledge's weathered face hardens as he turns to face Aleksey. "A company that size, with that much international presence? They'd have to be blind not to see what's happening in their own industry."

"That's a very serious allegation, Captain." Aleksey's practiced smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I feel compelled to remind you that slander is a very real criminal charge."

"So is human trafficking." Rutledge's voice carries the weight of steel. "And unlike slander,thatcomes with mandatory minimum sentences."

My fingers ball into a fist as I watch them face off. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.

I take a deep breath, my heart racing. There's no point in hiding anymore. Not when we're trying to get Rutledge on our side.

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