Page 245 of Sexting His Assistant

“He was running toward you.”

“I know that too,” she says, voice sharper now. “Do you think that makes it easy to watch?”

“No.”

“Then why did you disappear?”

Because I’m a coward in ways no one would believe. Because I can face bullets more easily than her disgust. Because every violent thing in my life has been easier to justify when she did not have to see it.

“I handled it badly.”

Nina lets out a tired laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her hands. “I don’t even know what I want you to be sorry for.”

She looks back up. “I want to talk about Misha.”

Pavel shifts slightly by the table.

I say, “All right.”

“He didn’t do this,” Nina says.

I say nothing.

She leans forward. “He didn’t.”

“Nina—”

“No,” she says. “Don’t say my name like I’m being emotional and you’re being rational. My brother loves me. He loves you. Whatever is going on, whatever that man said, Misha would never arrange for people to shoot at you or break into my apartment.”

I say, “The prisoner said he was paid through a handler using Misha’s name.”

“That could be a lie.”

“Yes,” I say.

“It could be planted.”

“Yes.”

“He could have been told to say it.”

“Yes,” I say. “Then what do you say about this?”

I turn my laptop toward her.

For a moment, she does not look down.

I think part of her already knows she will hate whatever is on the screen.

Then she lowers her gaze.

The footage is grainy, black and white, taken from the interior camera of Alina’s apartment building. The timestamp sits in the corner. The angle is poor, positioned high above a stairwell landing, but the picture is clear enough.

A door opens at the top of the frame.