“I need to examine Tatiana,” I said. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
His eyebrows rose. “If you think learning the lay of your new residence is a waste of time, perhaps you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
I clenched my jaw but bit my tongue.
“No response?” For a second, I thought he looked disappointed. His expression smoothed quickly, making me think it was a trick of my imagination. “Very well. This way.”
Konstantin led me through familiar hallways to Tatiana’s room. When he reached it, he turned to me and said, “I would be remiss if I didn’t ask, but did your late husband ever mention a key of some kind?”
I kept my expression clear. “A key?”
“Indeed.” His eyes scanned my expression.
“No,” I forced out. My fingers bit into my palms. “Unless you mean the front door key. Then yes.”
Konstantin didn’t believe me. Sure, he kept his expression perfectly smooth and polite, but the flicker in his eyes told me he knew I was lying.
In my mind, an image of that fucking key formed. That thing had gotten me into more trouble than it was worth—and it intended to get me into a little more.
I cleared my mind of the picture, as though Konstantin had suddenly become telepathic.
“Well, if you recall anything, let me know.”
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Why do you care about some key?”
I couldn’t read his expression. “That key is very important, Elena. I would hate for it to fall into the hands of someone with less than noble intentions.”
“Then we should pray you don’t get your hands on it, right?”
He laughed softly, dangerously. “The tools of men are not inherently evil; it is how they are used.”
My brain shuttered for a few seconds as it absorbed his words, added definitions and understanding to them.
The tools of men are not inherently evil…
There was no way. It was out of the question. How could he possibly know that? It was impossible.
It is how they are used…
Word to word. Identical. Like he was reading it right off the page.
“Something wrong, Elena?” Konstantin asked, his voice cutting through my growing confusion.
It’s just a coincidence, I told myself. How could he possibly know?
“No, nothing is wrong.” I straightened my shoulders.
Konstantin smiled slightly and gestured to the door. “Tatiana is expecting you. If you need anything, just ask. There is no expense too high for Tatiana’s health.”
With that, Konstantin left, striding down the hallway like the doors and windows were bowing to him. If they had been animated, perhaps they would’ve.
“Tatiana,” I said as I knocked softly on the door, peeking my head in. “It’s Elena.”
Tatiana was in the same position as yesterday, leaning against her headboard and surrounded by beeping machines. Though frail and exhausted, there was a bright smile on her face.
“Elena, have you met my son?”
I looked down to her side. Lying on his back, legs kicked up, was a child, [S4]two years old. He was a spitting image of Dmitri, though I could see hints of Tatiana in his features. He was wearing a shirt with a superhero on it and smiled goofily at me as I entered.
“’Ello, Lena,” he greeted, his speech toppling over my name’s pronunciation.
“Hello, Anton.” I stepped into the room. The overwhelming smell of cleaning products flushed over me. It made me think of the hospital.
“Elena is going to help mama,” Tatiana told him, smoothing down his inky black hair.
“And baby sister?”
“And baby sister,” Tatiana confirmed. She beckoned me forward, her eyes remained bright. “I hope Kostya didn’t anger you too much. Having a conversation with Konstantin is like playing a game of chess.”
That was perhaps the truest statement I had ever heard. I snorted in agreement. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
She smiled and scratched Anton’s belly. He laughed in protest, wiggling over the bed and carefully plopping to the ground. He let out a loud “Oopsie!” as he fell to the ground.
“Are you okay, darling?” Tatiana asked.
He used the side of the bed to help him to his feet. “Yep, yep.” With chubby fingers, he shoved back at his hair, but it came forward again seconds later, blocking his eyes.
Tatiana laughed, the sound brightening up the room. “Silly boy, look at you!”
“I can come back later,” I ventured. I wasn’t very sentimental but something about breaking up this moment between this sick mother and her son seemed too mean–even for me.
She looked at me like she had forgotten I was in the room. “Oh, no,