It's simply because I'm a criminal.
I respect that.
It's certainly far better than the corrupt cops who hate me because they're paid to hate me by my enemies, or the ones who hate me because they think I ought to pay them more.
I hold out my hands, wrists together. "Shall we?"
Webb's eyes narrow slightly. "Nothing to say, Mr. Baryshev?"
"I'll let my lawyer speak for me when we reach the precinct."
Webb holds my gaze for a long moment. He wipes his thumb across his lips as he assesses me. Then he nods to one of the officers, who steps forward with handcuffs.
The cold metal clicks around my wrists, and a moment later, I'm being guided towards the door.
When we step outside, I spot Vassily's black Mercedes screeching to a halt at the end of the driveway. He jumps out, face twisting in anger as he strides toward us.
"This is some fucking bullshit!" Vassily snaps, glaring at Webb and the officers.
"Vasya!" I call out sharply. "Your place is here."
"But they can't just?—"
"They can, and they have." I can't help but smile a little. "This is the hand that I've been dealt, and it is the hand I must play. Stay here. Keep everyone safe.Ponimayesh?"
"I do," he says. "And I will. I promise."
"Molodets."
I turn for one last look inside my home. There, standing in the shadows of the hallway, is Indigo. Her silhouette is unmistakable and her stance remains defiant even from this distance.
I give her a single, firm nod—a promise that I'll return—then duck my head and slide into the waiting car.
25
INDIGO
I stand frozenin the hallway for several minutes after I watch the police cruisers disappear down the driveway.
They can't just take him like this. Not when I know he's innocent.
With renewed determination, I turn and march through the mansion toward Anatoly's office. Roma should be there, gathering evidence like Anatoly instructed.
When I push open the heavy oak door, I find Roma hunched over Anatoly's computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. With every few keystrokes, he pulls up another feed from a security camera installed on the exterior of the mansion.
"Anything I can do to help?" I ask.
Roma glances up briefly. "I'm just downloading all the security footage to give to Kaufman. Should be finished soon. But I could use another pair of eyes. Makes the whole thing go faster."
I slide into the chair beside him. "Show me what you have so far."
Roma pulls up footage from last night. There's Anatoly, stepping out of Roma's car at the front entrance a little before midnight, exactly when I saw him walk through to enjoy our Thanksgiving dinner.
"So, that shows him coming in," Roma says. "Now, I just need to get all of the cameras until this afternoon."
I nod and watch as Roma cycles through different camera angles. The front gate, the back entrance, and the path leading towards the seaside cliffs. He fast-forwards through the timestamps, muttering under his breath with each one and stopping at the exact time Ryan was reportedly murdered earlier today.
And not once does Anatoly ever step foot outside of the house.