The Sin Collector

ANDREY

From the moment he left Anyutin’s office, where the colonel and Katyshev were still bemoaning the morals of the day, Andrey knew there was no way he would be capable of thinking, or engaging in any investigative activities whatsoever, until he saw Masha. He needed to embrace Masha Karavay, press her body to his and never let her go, until either they found the killer or he stopped killing. He would hold her that long, or maybe even forever. Eternity in Masha’s embrace didn’t seem like such a bad deal. Andrey didn’t really trust Innokenty, but still, he felt better knowing she was with him rather than all alone. When he called and heard her expressionless voice on the line, pronouncing just two words—“I’m home”—Andrey did not stop to ask questions.

I just need to remember to stop at the store, he thought as he parked in front of Masha’s building. His fridge was empty again. But that would be later, with her by his side.

As Andrey climbed the stairs, he heard voices. One male, speaking quietly, and the other female, slightly hysterical, which sounded as if it were coming from behind a closed door. He couldn’t make out the words at first. But the higher he climbed, the more distinct the dialogue became. He recognized Innokenty’s voice. And the first words he understood stopped Andrey in his tracks.

“Masha, please!” Innokenty was saying. “Please forgive me! I feel like all I’m doing is apologizing, admitting things I’ve done wrong. What do you think? That I’m insane and I’ve been stalking you for years? Don’t you think that might not be it at all? Isn’t there—” Innokenty paused for a second. “Don’t you see any other reasons, aside from me being some sort of bloodthirsty maniac, that I might have—Masha, why can’t you see? I—”

“You lied to me!” Masha interrupted him, the panic sounding in a long, high note in her voice.

Andrey couldn’t wait any longer, and he sprang forward.

“You hid so much from me!” Masha yelled. “I don’t trust you now. I don’t trust anyone!”

Andrey reached the landing and saw Innokenty standing with his forehead pressed to Masha’s apartment door. He turned to Andrey, his eyes lost and unseeing.

“Masha!” Andrey called. “It’s me. Open the door.”

Andrey stepped forward, and Innokenty stepped aside, his shoulders shaking. “Please, Masha,” said Andrey.

The door cracked open and there she stood, tears in her eyes.

“Where have you been?” She took a step toward Andrey. “Why did it take you so long to get here?”

Andrey hugged her then, the way he had dreamed of doing all day long, and he felt her hot, damp cheek pressed against his neck. He held her head to his shoulder, and moved his lips over the silky hair covering the back of her neck. He whispered, as soothingly as he could, “Hush, now. Shhhhh. Hush. Everything will be okay. Let’s go to my place. We’ll feed Marilyn. We’ll eat, too. We’ll go to bed and get a good rest, okay?”

And Masha only squeezed him harder and sobbed for a while before her breathing gradually returned to normal. Then he turned her to face him, and when Andrey looked into her sad, moist eyes, he thought he had never seen them look so piercingly green.

“Anything you want to bring with you?”

“That would be the third bag I’ve packed this weekend,” she said. “No. I don’t want anything. Just let me grab my purse.”

Without letting go of his hand, Masha rummaged in the coat rack for her purse, turned off the light, and pulled the door shut behind them. This time she didn’t bother to lock it.

Only then did either one of them remember Innokenty. They looked around, worried, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on,” said Masha, pulling Andrey by the hand. “Let’s go. Marilyn Monroe must be starving.”