The Boy Who Stole from the Dead

CHAPTER 25

AFTER NADIA AND Marko left for the airport, Johnny drove to Rikers Island. His meetings with Bobby reminded him of when he first became a criminal trial lawyer. The man who hired him, a gritty litigator renowned for his ability to sway a jury, made him practice his opening and closing arguments pertaining to his first case for hours. Johnny remembered delivering his arguments to an audience of one in similar confines but feeling as though he was talking to himself. His boss rarely interrupted him. But when he did, his words left a mark.

It was only a matter of time before Bobby talked, too, Johnny thought. And left his own mark.

“The preliminary hearing is in seven days,” Johnny said. “The DA will probably offer a deal. The judge will encourage it. The system’s overloaded. He’ll try to save the State of New York the cost of a trial. Problem is, they have a confession and an eyewitness.”

Johnny waited for some reaction but Bobby just sat there in his chair with his usual expression. Glum, bored, and arrogant, not giving a damn about anything Johnny had to say.

“Did you hear what I said? They have an eyewitness. Does that make sense to you? Did you see someone watching you?”

No reaction. None at all.

“You’ve got to help me, son. If you don’t, they’re going to lock you up and throw away the key. And I don’t care how much you think she loves you now, Iryna is not going to sit around waiting for you to be released in the afterlife. She may be young, and she may be in love, but she isn’t going to be stupid in love for the rest of her life.”

Johnny thought that might get a rise out of the kid. It didn’t. He kept his eyes on the floor.

“You seen her recently?” Johnny said. “How’s she doing? I wonder what she’s doing right now. I wonder if she’s safe. Or if whoever caused you to stab Valentine is more of a threat to her than you realize. If you love someone, don’t you want that person to know the risks she’s facing every day?”

Bobby shifted his gaze to the wall. As his eyes passed Johnny, he looked through him, as though he wasn’t even there. That type of detachment wasn’t easy. Johnny knew from years of experience in the courtroom cross-examining witnesses and connecting with juries. The kid was creepy, the way he could disengage, but given what he’d endured as a child of Chornobyl, that probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. People avoided him. Viewed him as a pariah. Adults and kids alike. Folks around Kyiv had an irrational fear of being contaminated with radiation poisoning, Nadia had said.

“Okay. I get it. You’re not going to talk to me. Fine. Continue to be selfish. You know what’s best. Your lawyer, the woman who brought you to America, your girlfriend—none of us matter. I still need you to do something for me, though.”

Bobby didn’t move.

“I need you to take a look at two pictures for me. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Obviously. But Nadia made me promise to have you look at them, and I don’t want to catch shit from her for not doing what she asked. You know what I’m talking about where that’s concerned, right?”

Bobby’s lip curled upward.

“Cool.” Johnny pulled out the picture of Valentine. “This is the victim after you finished stabbing him with your homemade screwdriver. Per your confession, that is.”

At first Bobby didn’t move. A few seconds later, he glanced at the photo through the corners of his eyes. No reaction.

“See how the right fist is half-closed? It looks as though he had his fingers curled against something. Like a knife. The knife you said he was carrying. But there was no knife at the crime scene. When you left Valentine, was he still holding the knife in his right hand?”

Bobby looked away. Johnny counted to ten to make sure he wasn’t about to talk.

Johnny revealed the second photo, the one of Valentine’s father. “What about this guy? He look familiar?”

Bobby glanced at the photo. A look of fear washed over his face. It came and went in a flash but it was unmistakable.

“Valentine’s father,” Johnny said. “Did you know him?”

Bobby’s complexion darkened.

“Did your paths cross in Chornobyl? In Kyiv?”

Bobby turned away from Johnny.

Johnny repeated his questions. Bobby didn’t respond.

Johnny put the photos away. He locked his briefcase and stood up to leave.

“We’ll see what Nadia digs up. She’s flying to Kyiv on business. While she’s there, she’s going to look into the old man’s past.”

Bobby sat up in his chair. “No. She can’t do that.”

Johnny stepped toward him. “Why, Bobby? Why can’t she do that?”

“She just can’t. She must not. She must not do that.”

“Why?”

Bobby sprang to his feet. His cheeks swelled. “Because they’ll kill her. You’ve got to stop her. Are you listening to me? You’ve got to stop her now.”

“It’s too late. She got on the plane after she called me.”

Bobby collapsed into his chair. He didn’t say anything more.

Outside the prison, Johnny called Nadia and left her a voice mail about what Bobby had said. She would hear it when she landed in Kyiv. Then he left Rikers Island, two of his predictions fulfilled. First, the kid had spoken and left his mark. Second, concern had turned to dread. A boy’s past threatened a woman’s life. Her predicament struck fear in a man’s heart.

But it was Nadia, not Iryna, who was in danger. And it was Johnny who felt helpless.