Page 53 of Confession
So why bring me in at all?
I look up to the two-way mirror. All I see is the back of Cohen’s head and my own harsh face, but the other agent is most certainly on the other side. Maybe he’s on the DiMaggio payroll too, but we’re still in the FBI building. They’re still leaving a trail.
Cohen doesn’t answer my question. I didn’t expect him to. He starts asking me about Neon Paradise and whether I was there the night before the murder, whether I saw Pedano.
I tell him that I was there for the cheap drinks and easy entertainment. I tell him that I didn’t notice Pedano.
“Not even in the bar fight that broke out?” Cohen inquires.
“I guess I left before that. I didn’t know there was a fight.”
“Someone thought they saw you there.”
“I was there, like I said. But not during the fight. You know how those things go. People get confused.”
“I supposeyouwould know that, Mr. Richmond.”
“Do you have any more questions for me?”
“Not tonight, Mr. Richmond.” Cohen gets up from his chair, so I do too. “Sanchez will see you out.”
***
The Jag is parked on the street right in front of the building. As soon as I emerge, the engine starts. I’m still very locked down, almost mechanical as I descend the concrete steps.
Then Vitali gets out of the car, which he really shouldn’t do, not in this exposed environment, not under the circumstances. He meets me at the bottom of the steps.
“Get back in the car, Vitali.”
“Are you okay?” His eyes dart back and forth as he looks at me. His hand skims my side. My heart leaps up into my throat.
I turn away from him and walk to the rear door. “I’m fine.”
I can feel his anger and confusion as he follows me. We both get in. Sasha’s eyes flick to me in the rearview mirror as she pulls away from the curb.
It’s a silent, awful ride home. I feel relief only when we pull through the gates and roll along the private drive toward the blunt face of the Georgian-style mansion. Soon, I can escape. I’ll go straight to my car when we park.
But Sasha drives past the garage to the fenced-in patio outside my room. I glare at her reflection in the rearview mirror. I thought she was bailing me out tonight. Apparently, she’s changed her mind.
When I get out, of course Vitali does too. The Jag reverses along the drive, leaving us alone together.
Vitali walks to the gate and opens it, holding it for me. When I don’t immediately walk through, he snaps, “Stop being a goddamn coward. You’re gonna fucking deal with me.”
Fuck.
I walk through the gate, which he slams behind me. Moonlight paints weak light over the patio with its little table and chairs. It’s ridiculous for me to have a place like this. This isn’t what I am, and I feel horrible being here.
What the fuck was I ever thinking, inserting myself into this life?
I unlock the door and go into my room, hitting the light for the kitchen area. The pan I used to cook this morning is on the hotplate. I stare at it until the door claps shut behind me. I jump.
Vitali demands, “What did Cohen want?”
“He didn’t have anything. I don’t know what his game was.”
“Why was he asking you about Pedano?”
“He knew I was at Neon Paradise the night before the murder. He didn’t say anything about you.”
