“I only just found out. Oh God, Angie. What are we going to do?”
“Firstly, don’t panic. I need to talk to Ash, but this is it in a nutshell: armed officers entered the theater. Boykov was on the floor and Ash was hitting him with his bare hands. They couldn’t see clearly because they were on the floor between two rows of seats. The next thing they heard was a gunshot. Boykov was dead and Ash was holding the gun. But the Russian had already fired at both of you. Personally, I don’t think there’s much chance that they’ll file charges.”
I was finding it hard to breathe.
“But there is chance?”
“Laney, calm down. We’ve got a few facts in our favor. One: even though two police officers shouted at Ash to drop the weapon, he didn’t appear to hear them. You know the drill—people usually look in the direction of sudden noise. Ash didn’t even flinch, which goes to suggest that he hadn’t heard the orders. Two: no one else saw what happened.”
“But . . .”
“Don’t tell me anything I don’t want to hear, Laney,” she warned. “Thirdly, during prior police interviews with Ash, they’d suspected that he was suffering from a post-traumatic disorder. This is all in his favor.”
“Okay,” I said quietly, trying to take it in. “What about this reporter? Why did you give him my number?”
“He’s a good guy, Laney. I’ve worked with him before—a real straight shooter. He’s been working on several mafia-related and people-trafficking stories. He’ll be fair, and Ash could use some good publicity—it’ll get the community on his side. The fact that he’s a foreigner and that he married you so quickly will look like all he’s after is a green card. Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!”
I huffed quietly, even though what she said wasn’t untrue—except that now it was.
“He needs to make sure he charms the hell out of everyone he meets from now on.” She paused. “Talk to Phil. I’ll brief Ash about what he can and can’t say. Okay?”
“Okay.”
There was a long pause, then she spoke more quietly.
“I’ll do everything I can.”
We ended the call, and I promised to speak to her reporter friend.
But first I had to talk to Ash.
Ash finally reappeared looking calmer, although I could see the lingering tension in his expression.
“We have a few things to talk about.”
For a moment I thought he was going to argue, but then his body sagged and he sat down on the bed.
I explained everything Angie had said and why she thought we should talk to the reporter. He wasn’t keen at first, but eventually agreed.
I reminded him to call Angie to talk through his approach while I contacted the reporter. But Angie had already been in touch and Phil Nickeas was already on his way over.
It didn’t give me much time to shower and dress, especially as I had a broken wrist.
Ash tidied the apartment, which didn’t take long as neither of us were particularly messy, and he hadn’t been around that much lately. Then I heard the coffee machine puttering in the kitchen. I hadn’t even had my first gulp before Ash was buzzing in our visitor.
Phil Nickeas was a good looking guy with sandy hair in his mid-thirties. I don’t know what I’d expected, maybe a grizzled older man.
“Thanks for taking the time to see me, Mrs. Novak, Mr. Novak.”
“Well, Angie spoke very highly of you, so . . .”
He grinned, looking much younger.
“Smart woman, Ms. Pinto.”
Oh, yeah. He was totally into my friend. Interesting.
I suddenly felt a lot better about the interview. Ash, on the other hand, was wary and uncomfortable, looking as if he was itching to pick a fight, or find a reason not to do the interview.
“Is it okay if I record this as well?” Phil asked as he placed his phone between us.
Ash glanced at me and I nodded.
“So, Mr. Novak, take me back to what brought you to the U.S. in the first place.”
Ash’s mouth twisted in distaste and I held his hand to reassure him. Or me. Probably both of us.
“It’s hard to talk about all this,” Ash said stiffly. “I keep trying to put it behind me.”
“I understand, but with all due respect, that’s not going to happen.”
“I just want to live my life!” Ash growled. “Be with my wife, dance. It’s not so much!”
His accent always became more pronounced when he was upset.
“Your best chance to make this go away is to give your side of the story now. Angie is a great criminal attorney and she wouldn’t have suggested that you speak to me if she didn’t think it would help your case.”
Ash bowed his head, staring at our hands.
“Okay.”
“If it helps any, I already spoke to Mr. Benson and Ms. Kuznets—they only have good things to say about you.”
Ash looked up. “You’ve seen them? How are they?”