Kayne leaned forward, his body vibrating with energy. “Were the kids with her when she went to the interview?” Perhaps one of these women knew who she'd left them with.
Figueroa studied his notes for a long moment. Flipped back and forth between several witness interview forms. “I don't know. Goddamn it, Myla Mechnikov was our translator for all the interviews except for one. We caught her on the way out, and she spoke English. Christ, we couldn't have been stupid enough to miss something so obvious. Come on, we're taking a road trip.” Figueroa jumped out of his seat.
Jess looked between them. “Where are we going?”
Kayne grabbed her hand, towing her along. “To the Russian Community Center.” Jesus, the investigators had had a suspect translating for them. God only knew what had actually been said.
***
After a brief wait, they were shown into a conference room at the community center. Several long minutes later, a tall, regal woman somewhere in her early fifties, if Kayne had to guess, stepped into the room and greeted him with a warm friendly smile and firm handshake.
“It's nice to finally meet you, Sasha. I'm Petra Rakovna.” The woman introduced herself in Russian.
Ignoring the pet name, Kayne introduced everyone then asked, “I'm sorry, do you speak English?”
Thankfully she did, though it was heavily accented. “Please be seated.” Petra motioned to the chairs and took a seat across from them once they’d all found a chair. “I am surprised by your visit, but glad. Ana spoke so highly of you, and often, that I had hoped to one day meet you.”
Ana. He'd given Oksana that pet name, had called her that until the day she died, and then he'd buried it with her along with the too few tender memories he'd had of his time with her. Kayne shook the thought away. They were here for only one reason. “You told the officers she interviewed for a job the day she died.”
Petra nodded. “She was rather excited to get the job. She practically floated out of here.”
Kayne shrugged helplessly. “I don't understand—why was she looking for work?”
She cocked her head. “May I speak freely?” She made the request in Russian, glancing quickly from Figueroa to Jess then back to him.
“Yes, anything you have to say, please, and in English if you can. My wife” —he nodded to Jess— “and my children may be in danger. I can't afford any secrets. We need the truth, whatever it is.”
Petra nodded her understanding. “We have so many women here who try and escape from undesirable circumstances in the homeland, only to come here and face far worse, and so we offer counseling. As I'm sure you know, Ana attended group counseling once a week. It's where I met her.”
No, he didn't know a damned thing about Oksana needing counseling, but Kayne said nothing, afraid Petra would stop talking.
“For months, Ana would do nothing but sit and listen. Never saying a word, silently crying as she listened to other people’s stories. Then one day she told us hers.”
Figueroa leaned forward with interest, glancing at Kayne, then back to Petra, asking, “And what was that story?”
“When she was fourteen, her father's worst enemy, a man of great power, kidnapped her. This man held her hostage for weeks. While she was in captivity, she was raped. Repeatedly.”
“Jesus,” Kayne hissed, leaning back in his chair. “She never said a goddamned thing about it.”
She offered him a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry, I assumed you knew. It was a horrible experience for her. Later, when she found out she was pregnant, her father forced her to have the baby. It was a boy.” Petra paused and studied Kayne. “I see by the look on your face you never knew this. Should I continue?”
Kayne cleared his throat. “Please.”
After another moment, she forged ahead. “She never knew what her father did with the boy, but she often wondered if her father had killed him. I think it is why she had such a difficult time with Niki. She once said it was difficult to be his mother, that he reminded her too much of the one she lost.”
“God, I think I'm going to be sick.” Kayne shot from his chair to pace the room, ignoring the look of concern from Jess. “What else?” he demanded after several moments.
“She spoke often of her 'Sasha'” Petra gave a watery laugh. “She always had a private smile when she said that name. She once said you made a face whenever she used it, so she used it often.” Petra paused and studied him for a moment. “She said you were good to her. That you were kind and gentle. That you never gave up on her, even when she knew she deserved it; when sometimes she wished you would have. She felt intimidated by you. You reminded her of someone from her past, but she said that despite the blood you came from, you were such a good man.”
Yes, Oksana had known he was the bastard son of a whore, but it had never seemed to matter to her. She repeatedly told him it didn't matter who his father was, that he wasn't that man.
He turned to Petra. “She never gave you any clue why she wouldn't have told me about her past?”
Petra raised her palms questioningly. “Where would she have gone if you'd left her? Her father had convinced her you'd get rid of her, if you discovered the truth about the past. I know she changed her mind, because she'd told all of us in the support group that she planned on telling you. She said her parents had visited and brought her something to keep for them, something she wanted no part of. She said she had to tell you about the past so that you'd understand the significance of the gift and why you couldn't keep it.”
Kayne frowned in thought. “She never said a word. When was this?”
“Maybe a month before she died.” Petra shrugged. “I'm not sure. I could probably figure a date out if it's important. I remember she came back the following week and told us about the trip into the mountains. She was very happy. She said you…” Petra paused and looked apologetically at Jess. “She said you'd been more affectionate. I assume she meant intimate, since the trip.”
Kayne tried to keep from squirming. So not what he wanted to have Jess hear, or to even think about, because he and Oksana hadn’t had sex since long before Tasha was born.
“She had some sort of epiphany that day in the mountains. She told me she wanted to change. She said she wanted to become a person worthy of being loved by someone like you. She felt guilty that you worked so much to take care of her and the kids, and yet she did nothing to contribute. She knew you resented that, though you tried to hide it.”
Petra leaned forward, her expression earnest. “She was trying to change, Sasha. She got rid of the house cleaner and had been doing the work herself. Not that you noticed, Ana told us.” Petra paused and laughed. “She even started taking a cooking class we offered here twice a week.” Petra paused, swallowed hard, then gave another watery laugh. “She nearly burnt the kitchen down the first time she tried to boil water for pasta. But she was so determined to please you she didn't give up. She told me before she left that day that she was going to make you dinner that night.”
Kayne closed his eyes, remembering the bag of groceries he'd found sitting in the kitchen that day, inexplicably waiting to be put away. There'd been no receipt, no bank card purchase recorded, and he'd not been able to explain why she'd purchased items for what looked like a romantic dinner. There'd even been a box of condoms in the bag, leaving Figueroa to wonder if Kayne had caught her having an affair and killed her and the children in a fit of rage.
Petra’s words pulled him out of the memory. “Her biggest obstacle was the children. I don't think she could look at them without remembering her other baby and all of the horror that revolved around that time in her life.”
“So why would she work in a daycare?” Kayne’s voice was raw with emotion. “That makes no sense.”
“She was to work in the office as my administrative assistant. The hourly pay wasn't much, barely double digits, but she negotiated free daycare out of me instead of health benefits since you already covered them through your job. With three children, that benefi
t nearly doubled her wage. She knew that with the money you'd save in daycare, along with her take-home pay, you could quit working overtime. She wanted you to be able to spend time with your children. She knew you hated coming home after they were asleep and leaving before they woke up.”
Kayne couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't stand here, knowing Jess was having to listen to all of this in hopes that Petra would reveal something useful. He couldn't readjust his opinion of Oksana either. He'd hated her for too long. Kayne looked down, only to realize he was rubbing his palm over his heart where his chest ached. “Were the kids with her that day?”
Petra shook her head. “No. I don't know who watched them. When the officer came by days after the murder asking more questions, I wondered. I asked Myla because I was sure Oksana had said she was the one watching the kids that day, but Myla said Oksana had changed her mind and used someone else.”
Kayne slammed his fist down on top of a file cabinet. “Myla ended up dying in Payson a week later in a car accident. She had Tasha with her.” Goddamn it!
***
Kayne didn't say a word after they left the community center. They were back in Santa Barbara, pulling into the police parking lot, when he finally erupted. “Two years. Two fucking years of my daughter's life lost to me, because someone didn't ask the right goddamn questions; because you guys relied on a civilian to translate during a murder investigation. Jesus Christ, I almost ate my service weapon because I didn't know how to go on without my kids. Tasha could have been killed that night instead of just Jarred. Because you fucked up and didn’t enter a goddamned serial number into NCIC, Tasha was left to be raised by strangers instead of me. I was forced to marry Jess to have rights to my own daughter, or risk losing her again.”
Jess grabbed her purse and bag, then paused. “Kayne's right. Jarred would still be alive and no one would have been forced to be married to anyone they didn't want to be married to.” Jess quietly climbed out of the car without waiting for a response.
“Son of a bitch! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Kayne jumped out of the car and went chasing after Jess. “Baby, wait.”
When he grabbed her arm, she jerked away. “Don't. Touch. Me. Just leave me alone, I don't want to talk to you right now.”
“Baby, come on.” Kayne tried to take Jess into his arms. “I didn't mean that how it sounded.”
Jess held up her hand, warning him off. “I'm taking a cab to the hotel. You and Detective Figueroa can do whatever you need to do. I can't do this anymore, I'm done.”
“No. I don't want you to be alone, Jess.”
“Too bad. I was born and raised in America. I am not Jessica the daughter of, or Jessica the wife of. I'm not your goddamned property. I get to make my own decisions, and I can damn well take care of myself. I was doing just fine before you arrived and fucked with my life, and I'll be fine after you’re gone too.”
“Jess, baby, please.” He reached for her again. God, seeing her so upset was ripping out his already bruised and bloodied heart.
She dodged his hands. “Stay. Away. From. Me.” Jess fumbled with her hands for a moment, then grabbed his. “This doesn't belong to me; you had it right the first time.” With that she turned and fled.
Kayne looked down at the ring in his palm. Oh yeah, he'd fucked up.
THIRTY-FIVE
When Kayne finally got to the hotel, all he could think about was taking Jess in his arms and trying to make things right. But there was a message waiting at the front desk for him. It was short and to the point—Jess had flown home without him. Christ, he wanted to hit something. He called home, and Trace confirmed she'd arrived safely. And she didn't want to talk to him. Trace promised that he’d stay close until Kayne returned. With no other choice, Kayne went upstairs to spend a sleepless night. Alone. Until he could catch a flight home.
He finally gave up trying to sleep as the sun started to paint the sky shades of lavender and purple. He'd spent the entire night tangled in emotions, past and present. His mind finally forgiving Oksana enough that his heart could mourn.
Before leaving the Community Center, Detective Figueroa had given Petra a list of the five original investigation contacts. She was able to give him the current addresses of three. Petra also confirmed that all five of them spoke English in varying degrees. Well enough it would have been unnecessary for Myla to have translated for any of them.
They'd successfully contacted all three people. Each had refused to talk about Oksana. They seemed fearful, but one had reluctantly confirmed Kayne's suspicions—Myla had told them not to speak with the police about Oksana. When asked why, the woman had looked fearfully at her neighbor’s house—the one with the curtain that twitched from time to time as someone peeked out—and refused to say more.
Kayne checked out of the hotel, taking his overnight bag with him. He took a cab to the one place he hadn't been in too long. Walking through the gates and across the manicured lawn, he headed straight to the tree on the hill. There, he stood and stared at the three, side-by-side, stone markers. Oksana in the middle, Niki and Natalia on either side.
He crouched and brushed the leaves and dirt off Niki's headstone. “Hey, sport, did you think I'd forgotten you? I haven’t. I think about you all the time.” His voice was rough. “I have another little boy now; I sure wish you were here to meet him. I miss you so damn much, Niki. Don't tell your mama I cussed.” Kayne gave a hoarse laugh. “She hated when I taught you bad words. I love you.” Kayne kissed his fingers, laid them on the cold stone, then turned to Natalia.
“Hey, kitten, it's Papa. How's my best girl? I sure miss your hugs. I found your baby sister. She looks so much like you it makes my heart ache.” He told her about Maddy, Isabelle, and Gracie. “Be good for mama, okay? I love you, don't ever forget that.”
Kayne couldn't stop the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, but he tried to wipe them away as he turned to Oksana. “Hey, Ana. I wish I knew what to say to you. I'm sorry seems so inadequate.” He knelt by her grave, and with a shaking hand, he brushed the dirt off the flat granite headstone. She'd been so goddamned young, he thought as he traced first the day of her birth, and then her death.
“I still don't know what happened that day, but I don't believe you drowned our babies, and I'm so sorry I accused you of it. I'm so afraid you killed yourself because of me and that's eating a hole right through my heart.” His voice broke, and he couldn't speak for a long moment. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Kayne ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “God Ana, I've been so mad at you for so long. I talked to Petra yesterday, and she told me everything. I wish to God you had. I wish you'd given me a chance to slay your dragons. Your father was wrong; I wouldn’t have sent you away because of something awful that happened when you were a child. I need you to know that I would have stood by you.”
He took a shaky breath and slowly let it out. “You were my wife and the mother of my children, and I'm sorry you didn't have a chance to live in the light when you'd finally found your way to the sun. I always wished that for you, sweetheart. I hope you know that.”
Kayne told her about Gracie, about the accident and Jarred's death, and about Gracie's life since that fateful night.
“Her mom's pretty incredible too. She's my wife now, Ana. She's everything I could have wished for. She's mad as hell at me right now. And a little jealous of you, if I had to guess. I think you'd like her though. She's such a great mom, and she loves Gracie so much.”
He rested his hand on the grass-covered ground. “If there's a heaven, I hope you're there, and I hope you're happy. I pray Niki and Natalia are with you. I hope...I hope you can forgive me, and I hope you understand why I'm saying goodbye. I'll always remember you, but Jess is my life now. She and those kids mean everything to me, and I can't live without them. Without her.”
Kayne kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them to the headstone. “So, goodbye, sweetheart. Never doubt that I loved you all, so very much.” With one last look t
oward his children, he turned and headed home.
***
Detective Figueroa called while Kayne was standing at the airport ticket counter, trying to get an earlier flight home. He and Jess had purchased open-ended tickets and the next available flight wasn’t until six that night. God, he just wanted to get home; to see Jess and get the ring that was burning a hole in his pocket and his heart back on her finger, where it belonged.
The conversation with Figueroa was short and to the point. He’d found another witness while going through his old partner’s notebook. A young neighbor had reported a suspicious vehicle and subject to a patrol officer, but the info had never been followed up on. Not only had she been able to place Myla Mechnikov at the scene, she’d seen her and the male suspect leaving the apartment with Gracie. When asked why she hadn’t come forward when she realized they were looking for Gracie’s body, she’d told Figueroa that since the police were claiming Kayne had killed his wife and the other kids, she thought Myla had taken the baby to keep her safe. Then Figueroa did the very last thing Kayne had ever expected him of doing.
He apologized.
It was nearly midnight when Kayne got home. Stripping down to his boxer-briefs, he crawled into bed next to Jess and pulled her into his arms.
She lay stiff as a board, faint tremors racking her delicate body, and he knew she was crying.
“I'm so sorry, baby. I was angry and hurt. I am sorry that I missed those years with Gracie, I’m sorry Jarred died, because it hurt you, and he never had a chance to say he was sorry. I know if he could have told you so, he would have.” He slid the ring back on her finger and curled her hand in his. “This is where my ring belongs, and you are where you belong.”
He pulled her tighter against him. “I'm not sorry I married you, baby. I'm not sorry that I love you. I'm not sorry we're the proud parents of four wonderful children. I love you, and I love this crazy life we have, and I'm so, so sorry I hurt you.”
Razing Kayne Page 30