Page 20 of Traitor

April 2015

My phone vibrated on the nightstand and I blindly felt for it in the dark.

“Hello?” I answered groggily, having just been woken from a dead sleep. I was dreaming about her again.

It was all I ever did anymore.

Tonight, she’d married Little Ricky and started a family with the prick. They’d had a daughter they lovingly referred to as, ‘Little Lauren’ and a son known as, ‘Littlest Little Ricky.’ Lauren had never looked happier.

It was a goddamned nightmare.

“Detective?” The female voice questioned and I was instantly on alert.

“Lauren, baby, are you okay?”

There was a pause before the woman answered, “This is Katya Egorichev, Detective. I’m sorry to wake you.”

She’d called on and off over the last three months, convinced that someone was stalking her. Every conversation led back to Landon Scott. I gave her his college ring, yet somehow, she’d convinced herself that the man was still alive.

If she hadn’t been through the fucking ringer already, I would’ve recommended a psych evaluation because she had definitely lost touch with reality.

“Katya, call me Mike. What’s going on now?” I stifled a yawn and tried to sound interested.

She sniffled into the phone before clearing her throat. “Um, there was a note on the door to my condo when I got home tonight.”

I hastily rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. “What did it say? Did you see anyone?”

“It just says,‘These days when I see you, you make it look like I’m see-through.’I didn’t see anyone though, I swear. How did he get into my building, Detective?”

I leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp before grabbing my notebook. I scrawled out what the note said before asking, “Has there been anything else? Any specific people you keep seeing around?”

Katya cleared her throat again and I could hear the clashing sound of glass on glass.

“Katya,” I ventured. “What are you doing right now?”

Her voice was monotone as she responded, “Drinking, Detective. It’s the only way to get through the nights. And yes, to answer your question, there was theVictoria’s Secretcatalog that asked,‘What do you know about the disappearance of Katya Egorichev?’You said not to worry, but—” Her voice broke. “I’m starting to worry.”

Fuck, I wanted a drink.

I wanted to ask her what it was in the glass…to hear the liquid sloshing up against the sides of the bottle. But first, I needed to calm her the fuck down before she did something stupid, like admit that Landon was dead over a cell phone line.

“Okay, I’ve got the catalog thing noted right here.” I didn’t, but that was only because I’d been certain that it didn’t exist. She swore she came home to her condo and found a catalog that was published after she went missing, hidden under the comforter on her bed. The problem was that local police officers couldn’t find any record of its existence.

I continued, “Remember what we talked about. I am pouring every resource into finding Landon. You need to stay safe until we get him though.”

She knew Landon was dead, but I made sure she knew to never bring it up over the phone. Now, it seemed, I was bound to mention that we were looking for him every single fucking time we talked. I was being a dick, but I swear to god, I broke out in a cold sweat every time her name popped up on my caller ID.

“I’m being careful, Detective. I promise you that.”

Katya was a wild card. I always felt like she was one bad day away from revealing everything. We hung up after I promised that I would look into the note and let her know if I came up with anything.

It bothered me. It was obvious that a copycat had left the cryptic message, but why? Was he just trying to scare her or was he trying to convince her to come clean because he already knew that Landon was dead?

I tried to fall back asleep, but my thoughts had me completely alert. I kept my promise to David, but at what cost to me? If things went south, I’d be locked up forever. For all of Grey’s club connections, I doubt even he’d be able to bust me out.

How in the hell was I going to keep Lauren safe?

The more I went back over that night, the more I was convinced that someone had in fact killed Monica to keep her quiet. I hadn’t wanted to, but I reached out to another club member to help me.

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