The Witness

married?”
    “Yes.”
    “So he can develop and maintain a relationship. You’ve got his genes, too.”
    For a moment, a long moment, she watched the flight of the hummingbird—that sapphire blur—until it whizzed out of sight.
    “Why would you want to be with someone whose skills and aptitude for personal connections are stunted?”
    “Maybe I like the idea of watching them grow, and being part of it. Then there’s the fact I’m hung up on you. Factor those together.”
    “There are other reasons I shouldn’t let this continue. I can’t tell you what they are.”
    “Yet. I know you’re on the run from something, something that scares you enough you need that dog, all this security, all those guns. Whatever it is has you behind locks, actual and metaphorical. When you trust me enough, when you figure out that needing help isn’t the same as being weak and needy, you’ll tell me. But for now, I should fire up that grill.”
    She got to her feet when he did. “How much of your interest in me is wondering what’s behind the locks?”
    She needed honesty, maybe more than most, so he’d give her honesty. “It started out that way. I still wonder, partly because a cop always wonders. But mostly now? When you opened those locks, even a little,Abigail, you got me. You got me,” he repeated, taking her hand, pressing it to his heart.
    She looked at her hand, felt that strong, steady beat. And let herself go, let herself lay her cheek there. When his arms came around her, she squeezed her eyes shut and the emotions rose so fast, so hard and fast. To be held like this on a cool spring night by someone who cared.
    It was like a miracle, even for someone who didn’t believe in them.
    “I still don’t know what to do with this, with you. With any of it.”
    “Let’s see how it goes.”
    “I can try. Will you stay tonight?”
    He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “Thought you’d never ask.”
    She stepped back, steadied herself by looking into his eyes. “I’ll go make a dressing for the bag o’ salad.”
    And saw that quick flash of humor light his face.
    “That’d be great.”
    When she went inside, he walked over, took the cover off her grill. Oh, she had him, all right, he thought, more than was comfortable. But he believed he’d get used to it, just like he believed easing open those locks, a little at a time, would be worth the effort.
    I N C HICAGO , only two blocks from the club where Ilya had met Elizabeth Fitch one summer night, he toured the dingy apartment that housed one of their most profitable computer scam operations. He often oversaw this area himself, so while his presence generated some nerves, work continued smoothly.
    Several operators worked computers, blasting out spam advertising job offers for work at home, Canadian pharmacies, online dating, free downloads. Some would generate fees—handled by phone operators who conned those naive or desperate enough to call in. Others wouldsimply steal credit card information, which could be translated into quick profit or identity theft.
    Here, the overhead was low, the profit rich and regular.
    He’d personally designed a variation on the tried-and-true Nigerian scam that continued to be their top moneymaker.
    It brought him considerable pride.
    He enjoyed the work, and considered it an intellectual exercise. Business was good, increased from the previous year. No amount of warnings posted online, touted on the nightly news exposés, curbed the hunger in human nature for easy money.
    And the only weapons needed to strip the foolish from their wallets were a computer and a phone.
    He accepted violence, inflicted it when necessary, ordered it when it was warranted. But he preferred bloodless crime.
    He considered himself a businessman, and would soon take a wife, make a family of his own. He would teach his sons to be businessmen, and to leave the blood to others. Men like Korotkii would always be useful, but he had higher plans for the sons he’d make.
    He enjoyed hearing the phones ring, and the “operators” read the prepared script, improvising when necessary. “Yes, you can earn money at home! Increase your income, set your own schedule. For a small fee, we’ll provide you with all you need.”
    Of course, they’d provide nothing of use, but the fee would already be deposited. The mark would be out just under forty American dollars. Really, a small price for a lesson learned.
    He spoke briefly with the supervisor,