His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(106)
Author: Shayla Black

“That’s it, baby girl.” Joaquin cupped her shoulders, seemingly to steady her, provide support. “Tell me everything you remember.”

“We’d been camping for a few days already. It seems like we were moving somewhere new every day. We’d drive for hours. My dad would say he was going for a walk by himself, then he’d come back and . . . It seemed like nothing happened until the day he said he wanted to fish. That morning, we didn’t pack up and drive somewhere else. Instead, Viktor woke me up early, and we drove away together. We didn’t travel long before he parked, then we walked. He helped me climb a fence that had been painted green, I think. People had carved their initials into it and someone had painted over it again. Viktor stopped there and started singing to me. He wanted me to sing with him. I remember jumping left three times from the fence post over and over until I fell down giggling.”

“Then what?”

“We trekked a dirt path. He pointed out a sign to me about no lifeguard being on duty, then he dug a hole in the dirt and . . .”

“And?” Joaquin quizzed.

“I don’t know. The memory just stops there. Viktor presumably buried something, but I don’t know what or where that scene might have taken place. I don’t even know if that’s really a memory of him hiding the research.”

He cupped her face. “One thing I suspect? He taught you the rhyme because he already had a plan and had decided to spare you. So he showed you exactly how to find his legacy when you were grown. That way, you could preserve it.”

“Why not my older brother or sister? He can’t have been sure I would remember any of this.”

“We’ll never know,” Joaquin said sadly. “It’s possible he couldn’t bring himself to shoot someone so young. Or maybe he thought LOSS would never believe you’d know anything about his work and would leave you alone. I’ve looked at a few of the records. Your brother struggled in school.”

“Russian was his first language. I don’t think he spoke much English before he went to school. When I was little, my birth parents spoke mostly English. I remember my mother saying it would be better for us kids. But she hated the language.” In fact, Bailey remembered her mother tsking in the kitchen at what a silly language it was.

“And your sister’s aptitude was largely in dance, according to what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah. Even at seven, her dance instructors oohed and aahed about her abilities. I went to the same dance school. They weren’t nearly as excited about me.”

“Looks like they were off base about that,” Joaquin pointed out. “But your school records indicate you were the one who did best in English-language organized academic settings. Maybe that’s why. Maybe he thought that someday, when you remembered his nursery rhyme and put everything together, you’d decipher his research or continue it.”

Bailey shrugged. “And maybe we’re crediting a very desperate man with a lot more rational thought than he actually had.”

“Like I said earlier, we’ll never know.”

She shook her head. That made her sad all over again. “So now what? We know the rhyme wasn’t referring to any location near the house.”

“And that’s why the FBI never found anything on the premises. They believe LOSS looked, too, because the crime scene was contaminated and the house trashed when the sheriff arrived. Sean said the FBI speculates that, after taking your father from the house, LOSS searched it from top to bottom. They believe that the sheriff arriving sooner than expected stopped the hunt, but after the murder scene had been cleared, they came back. Your aunt in Russia hired someone to clean it up and try to restore it as much as possible. The company reported that it had been ‘vandalized.’ But the walls lacked any sort of graffiti, as you’d expect if the culprits had been bored teenagers. They also didn’t find any drug paraphernalia, like you might find with addicts.”

“It’s probably safe to say that LOSS didn’t find anything there.”

“Right.” He sighed. “Do you remember anything you saw on this vacation with your family? Any landmarks?”

“So far, no. I’ll keep trying. What will we do if we actually find the research? How does having it stop them from coming after me?”

“I think we have to take a page from Sean’s book and be very visible and vocal about the fact that we’ve found what your father left and given it to the feds. Whatever we have to say to get these people off your back. I’m sure Sean and Callie will help.”

She nodded. If they found her father’s mysterious research that so many had killed and died for, Callie would absolutely try to help. Sean had worked this case when he’d been an FBI agent. He knew the stakes. He’d jump in, too. It felt good to have friends.