Orest Stelmach - The Boy Who Stole from the Dead

“So technically you pulled your screwdriver first?”

“No. He aimed his rifle on me on Hart Island first.”

“Good point.”

Johnny’s conscience eased. If Victor Bodnar had convinced the witness to stretch the truth and swear that Valentine had drawn his weapon first, it was the truth in spirit.

“What happened to the bat?” Johnny said. “The bat you took to Hart Island?”

“I was actually hiding in the dumpster. I needed both hands to get out. To go up and over the top. There was no way I could have moved as fast as I needed to and gotten the bat out. I forgot all about it and left it there.” Bobby took a deep breath and exhaled.

Johnny reflected on what he had just heard for a moment. “So you didn’t have a date with Iryna.”

“No.”

“And that’s why your only call from prison was to her. To tell her to back up your story you were meeting in the Meatpacking District on a date.”

“Yes. To hide the part about Hart Island, for fear someone connected to Valentine from Russia would come after Nadia.”

“Why would you be concerned about that? How did you know Valentine wasn’t just acting on his own?”

“I didn’t. But when you grow up in Ukraine, you understand that powerful men work in packs. There’s never just one of them. They’re all tied together, and they all have connections to the government. So I had to be careful and assume the worst. I had to assume someone else might come after me and my family. And Nadia’s all the family I have.”

The kid sounded sincere. His comments, heartfelt. “I’m going to do my best to keep your real identity a secret,” Johnny said. “Nadia’s been digging into Valentine’s background. If she found any evidence that he was a nutcase, a reckless guy with a history of violence, that’ll help. Where’s the letter you got when you landed on Hart Island?”

“In the Long Island Sound.”

“Good. Let’s review the truth, or our best guess of what it was, and then what we’re going to tell the district attorney. Truth first. Valentine saw your picture or video on the Internet. Probably the Gáborik race in Lasker Park. He went to the hockey game to see you in person. He probably followed you before and knew Iryna was your girlfriend, or maybe he figured it out from Facebook. Maybe he hadn’t talked to his father yet, didn’t have the orders to avenge his mother’s death. He just went to the hockey game angry and lost his cool. Then maybe he spoke with his father on his deathbed. Maybe not. Either way, he accepted responsibility to kill you. Then things got serious. Events occurred the way you described.

“The district attorney doesn’t need to know any of that. All he needs to know is that Valentine hit on Iryna, she told him to take a hike, and he got pissed off. She said number four was her boyfriend, and he confronted you after the game. Why? Because he had that kind of personality. He called you from London and said he would hurt your loved ones if you didn’t agree to meet. You met outside his apartment. He pulled a knife, things got ugly. That part is true, mind you. We won’t get into any of the rest unless it becomes necessary. I’ll bet his boat rentals were cash transactions. He might have had to show ID but there’s no credit card record. No one’s going to find out about them unless they go to the docks looking for them.”

“Will they send me home?”

Johnny detected a strange note of reluctance. “Let’s see what Nadia found out about Valentine. Maybe she learned some things that will help convince the DA he had a volatile personality. You do want to go home, don’t you?”

Bobby dropped his chin. Stared at the floor for a moment. “I don’t deserve to go home. I killed that woman. She was a good person. Not like the other hunters. She wanted to help us. It’s my fault she’s dead. I deserve to go to jail.”

His comment caught Johnny off guard. All this time he’d thought the kid had remained mute strictly to protect Nadia. In fact, his motives were more complex.

“It was an accident,” Johnny said. “Her husband and friends were shooting at you and your girl. The woman was pointing a rifle at you. You did what you had to do. Nothing that happened was your fault. Do you understand me?”

Bobby continued looking at the floor.

“And let me tell you something else. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Bobby looked up at Johnny. Guilt shone in his eyes.

“You may be the smartest guy in this room or any other, but that doesn’t mean you’re the wisest. Wisdom comes from suffering. Take it from someone who’s experienced and seen his share. It’s easy to forgive other people because you have no control over their actions. The hardest thing is to forgive yourself because you have control over your actions. You must forgive yourself right now for what you think you did. If you don’t, you’ll be miserable the rest of your life, and you’ll make everyone else miserable, too.”

Bobby thought about this for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Thanks,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

“How is Nadia? Where is Nadia?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Is she okay?”

“I hope so.” Johnny cleared his throat. “Listen. I have to shift gears for a second. Your freedom is my main focus, I promise you, but Nadia told me to ask and if I don’t she’ll be upset with me.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows.

“The locket,” Johnny said.

The emotion drained from Bobby’s face.

“Nadia got some intelligence in Ukraine that suggests there might be more to it than you all originally thought.” Johnny studied the kid’s expression but he remained inscrutable. “That make any sense to you?”

He kept a straight face.

“Because if it does, and it’s with your personal possessions, it would be good to know ahead of time before you get released.” Johnny considered telling him Victor Bodnar might try to steal it from him, but didn’t want to alarm him yet.

Bobby thought about it for a moment. “Yes, and yes.”

“Yes there might be more to it, and yes it’s in an envelope with your personal possessions?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then we may have a little bit of a problem—”

“Victor Bodnar.”

Johnny’s jaw dropped. He studied the kid again but he was giving him nothing now. He was his father’s son once again.

“How did you know?” Johnny said.

“Iryna.” Bobby shrugged. “She told me everything without saying a word.”

MARKO GOT BEHIND the wheel. Nadia navigated from memory. She’d travelled on one of the scavenger trails last year in an old Soviet military supply truck.

An alarm sounded once they crossed the main road onto the path that led to the trail. Nadia guessed it was the fire alarm at the power plant. There had to be a fire truck on the premises. Nadia saw flames in the side view mirror coming from the direction of the babushka ’s house.

Marko drove twenty miles through the woods. They didn’t encounter the driver or the other hunters. They’d abandoned their posts per the General’s instructions. The trail was wide and well-worn by truck tires. Marko spun the wheel to avoid trenches, eased the throttle when the trail wound around trees. The SUV’s suspension absorbed dips, bumps, and sudden turns. They emerged out of the forest on the main road to Chornobyl three miles past the checkpoint. From there it took them a little over an hour to get to Kyiv.