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“Ariadna.”

She glances at me, wanting more but not asking. Still resisting the fact that she’s in this now.

“She used her network. Traced payments, connections, and people who knew people. Eventually, she found a property near Saranac Lake.”

“Property?”

“A condo.”

Matilda’s eyebrows lift. “Seriously?” There’s a blotchy red tinge forming on her cheeks, and when our eyes meet briefly, she begrudgingly explains, “We lived on the third floor of a duplex until I was four years old. Then Ed was able to put a down payment on a starter home; nothing fancy. But Semiyon…well, sure seems like he’s doing well for himself.”

I nod. I’m tempted to ask more about her family, but that feels like crossing the line even further.

There’s no denying I’m already on the other side of it; but that doesn’t mean I need to keep going.

“The condo was paid for through one of Yuri’s shell companies. One of the aliases. The new payment tied the alias to Yuri’s company. That’s what Ariadna had been waiting for.”

She stares out the window. “That’s ironic. It’s similar to how Yuri put you in the situation you’re in with Mikhail.” I don’t say anything, privately acknowledging the tit-for-tat move. If only we’d been able to anticipate Yuri’s scheming earlier. Matilda exhales through her nose, shoulders dropping. “I don’t know why, but I expected a trailer park.”

I almost smile.

“Or a shack in the woods?”

“Something like that.”

“Something more ‘criminal.’”

I understand the expectations. Semiyon isn’t supposed to have a comfortable life. Not in her mind. Not after everything she’s learned about him.

But the condo bothers me. Men like Semiyon don’t get housing like that by accident. It means Yuri’s organization is supporting him in ways we haven’t uncovered. Money. Protection. Maybe something else. Semiyon might be a larger problem than I anticipated. Not just a Boevik anymore.

I glance at Matilda. I don’t like the thought of what we’re going to find.

Whatever it is, she’s going to have to live with it.

We turn into the development; a collection of expensive-looking buildings tucked among the trees. I slow the car, scanning the numbers.

“One-two-eight-six,” I say.

Matilda sits straighter, looking at each ornamental mailbox.

“There.”

I follow her gaze.

1286 Axton Estates.

Intentionally, I drive past, down a few other condo blocks, and turn around, parking on the opposite side of the street. We’re diagonal and behind a white Honda, but can still see 1286. For the first time since we left the lake house, I wonder if bringing her here was a mistake.

The condo is nice, nicer than a man like Semiyon deserves, or should be able to afford.

We sit in the car for about ten minutes in silence, watching through the windshield as Semiyon moves around the patio with a beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other. Several people are gathered around him, laughing as he tends to the grill. A few of them look rough and like they might be more of Yuri’s men, though I don’t recognize them. But most of them look like upper-middle to upper-class Adirondack residents.

He’s entertaining. Comfortable. Doing well for himself.

For a lower-level Boevik, it’s more than I would expect.

My thumb slides meditatively up and down my cell phone. Should I have sent Ariadna here instead? That would have avoided the mix of anger, guilt, and sadness tangling in my chest when I try not to look at Matilda. It would also have given us an opportunity to learn more about Yuri’s current crew.