Razing Kayne

THIRTY-FOUR



“Detective Figueroa, this is my wife Jessica.” Kayne shook the detective's hand when he met them at the airport terminal. They'd flown from Payson to Phoenix and Phoenix to Santa Barbara, arriving slightly after noon.

“We've met. Nice to see you again. Still wish it were under better circumstances.” He offered Jess his hand. “How do you guys feel about Mexican food? There’s this great little place where they make the tortillas fresh. I know Kayne likes it. It’s a cop favorite.”

“I love Mexican food,” Jess said.

“Then come on, kiddo, let’s get you fed.” Figueroa winked at Jess.

Jess asked about his family as they took their seats.

“Can you believe I'm gonna be a grandpa in a few short months? Hell, if I can get these last few cases closed, I might be able to retire.”

Kayne was admittedly shocked by how affable the detective was being. He'd been a total hard-ass for the last two years. No, that wasn't exactly true. They'd never gotten along when Kayne worked for the department either. Yet Jess seemed to have won him over with little effort.

Once they finished lunch, they headed to the department.

“What on earth do you have in here?” Kayne sat Jess's carry-on bag on the conference room table. He'd been lugging the thing around all day and curiosity had finally gotten the better of him.

“It's my copy of the case file.” Jess reached in and pulled two large folders out. “From Jarred's accident.”

Figueroa sat heavily in a chair. “I'm still trying to get copies from various agencies.”

“I have it all right here.” She patted the folder. “Everything that was written, including firsthand accounts by personnel on scene, as well as the taped copes of radio transmissions is in here. Well, CD's, but still, you get the point.”

“And you didn't feel like sharing them when I visited Payson?” Figueroa tossed her an annoyed look.

“You were being an a*shole and all but accusing Kayne of murder. I figured you wouldn't settle for a copy of what I had, figuring I'd omit some key piece of evidence to screw with you. So I let you work for it.” Jess shrugged unapologetically.

“Okay, I deserve that. You're right—Kayne has been my prime suspect because nothing about the case ever added up unless he was involved. I'll buy that someone else killed the kids.” He held his hand up when Kayne opened his mouth to protest. “I'm not seeking a confession; we're just talking this out. It doesn't make sense for Oksana to kill the kids and let someone else take the baby, then wait for you to get home to commit suicide. Now, if you'd told me the maid we never found came in and caught Oksana in the act and slipped out with the baby, and you came home and lost it and shot Oksana out of grief, I'd totally buy that.” He looked at Kayne as if he expected him to suddenly agree. “Jesus Kayne, I don't know that I wouldn't have pulled the trigger if I were in that situation.”

Kayne leaned over the table and looked the a*shole in the eye. “And yet, I didn't. So let’s get back to the facts.” Kayne should have known Figueroa would still be hunting for some involvement from him.

An hour later, they'd made no progress, and Kayne and Figueroa were back to arguing over who shot Oksana.

“Could she have left them alone?” Jess looked questioningly at Kayne. “Could she have gone to a neighbor’s or the store and left them napping, only to come back to find the older two had drowned themselves?”

Kayne slowly shook his head, his expression contemplative. “That still doesn't explain what happened to Gracie or why Oksana killed herself.”

“Kayne, she had severe depression and anyone who knows you, even a little, would realize those kids meant more to you than life itself. If she'd allowed something to happen to them, by fault or neglect, she might have figured you'd never forgive her.”

Kayne’s eyes narrowed. “Of course those kids were my world, that's how it's supposed to be, and I refuse to regret that! As far as forgiving her, I'd like to think I would have, but I don't know. I just don't know. She never gave me a chance to find out.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “It's possible she left the kids with someone. God knows it wouldn't have been the first time. We'd argued over her leaving the kids with virtual strangers before, but she just didn't see the danger. Compared to Russia, Santa Barbara seemed safe to Oksana. Hell, the Watt's district of Los Angeles would probably seem safer than even Vyshgorod, where she’d attended boarding school.”

“Vyshgorod?” Jess pulled one of the binders back in front of her. “That sounds like the same place Ludmyla's parents were from.” She started turning pages in one of the two duplicate binders she'd brought along. She'd collected everything there was to acquire on Jarred's accident, from what he'd seen. Kayne's heart began to race, he did not believe in coincidences.

Kayne grabbed the other folder and started searching for a name he’d seen on a report earlier. “Trace said, when he talked to...” Kayne paused, flipping pages until he found what he was looking for. The autopsy report for Ludmyla Viktrovna Oleksevna. “Viktor Oleksy, that Olesky told him they were from Vyshgorod and knew nothing about Gracie?” Kayne looked at Jess expectantly.

“Who is Viktor Oleksy?” Figueroa’s expression was confused.

Kayne pointed to Ludmyla's name. “Ludmyla was her given name. Viktrovna is her patronymic name, and Oleksevna is the surname, but it's also diminutized. So anyone who sees her name knows she is Ludmyla, the daughter of Viktor Oleksy.”

Jess flipped to a different section in her binder, shaking her head. “No, according to Trace’s report, his name was Konstantin Mechnikov.”

“Mechnikov?” Figueroa’s face lit with interest, and he shuffled through a thick stack of papers. “I interviewed a... Myla Mechnikov at the Russian Community Center the day after the incident. She claimed Oksana hadn't been there that day. Yet when the other detective shared his interview notes, another woman he'd talked to had seen Oksana there that morning. She'd had a job interview.” Figueroa looked up from his notes.

“A job interview? Are you sure?” Kayne’s expression clouded with doubt.

“I'm positive. It's one of the reasons I didn't buy your story of her depression. I sent one of Oxnard’s Russian-speaking officers back to the center a few days later, and he spoke with the daycare director, Petra Rakovna. She confirmed Oksana had interviewed and accepted a job offer, an administrative position. Ms. Rakovna claimed Oksana had been extremely happy about the job.”

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 benefit 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 f*cking 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 f*cked 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! F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!” 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 f*cked 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 f*cked up.