Thurman shrugged. “The maid, maybe his brother who was home for the funeral.”
“And who collected all these things for you?”
“Just my secretary.”
“Does she have a name?” Hawk asked.
“Yes, Irina Lopovsky.”
Hawk eyed Thurman closely, unsure if he was joking.
“Irina Lopovsky?” Hawk repeated slowly.
“Yes,” Thurman said. “Do you know her? She’s a lovely lady.”
“She also sounds Russian,” Alex said.
“Moldovan, actually,” Thurman corrected. “She immigrated here at the age of three with her mother.”
Hawk eyed Thurman closely. “Don’t you think that would be important to know, that your son who we suspect was killed by an FSB assassin had a father who employs a Russian on his staff and entrusted her to gather Thaxton’s belongings?”
Thurman sighed. “I’ve known her and her family for years. She’s clean. Trust me. All my employees have been through such a rigorous screening process that they could run for a government office without even a hint of scandal emerging from their past despite the media’s best efforts to unearth them. There simply isn’t anything there.”
“So we should just take your word for it?” Hawk asked.
“Be my guest,” Thurman said. “Question her all you like, but I promise that you’re not going to find even a hint of what you’re looking for. And then in the meantime, your chances of finding Krasnoff will diminish. Is that what you want to happen?”
Hawk shrugged. “We’re focused on apprehending your son’s killer, but we’re also not afraid to turn over any other rocks that we might find along the way.”
“I understand,” Thurman said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my wife and I would like to continue grieving in private.”
“Of course,” Alex said.
Thurman led them to the door, stopping to have one final word before ushering them outside.
“Be careful where you dig,” Thurman said. “There might be something you find that’s best left alone.”
Hawk eased into the driver’s seat and looked at Alex. “What do you think?”
“I think we’ve got a potential mess on our hands, and we better figure out a way to clean it up without anyone else getting hurt,” she said.
“Without a doubt,” Hawk added.
CHAPTER 5
BLUNT STRIAIGHTENED THEN smoothed his tie before standing up to welcome Rebecca Paris. He hadn’t even made it halfway across the room before she opened the door and let herself in.
Lugging a briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, she seemed to move effortlessly inside.
“I’m sure Linda could’ve given you a hand if you’d asked her,” Blunt said, gesturing to help.
She ignored him and marched toward his desk. Before having a seat, she set her coffee cup down and flung her other belongings into the other chair.
“I don’t have much time,” she began as she spoken in a measured tone. “And I doubt you do either since you’re such a busy man. So, I’ll make this short.”
Blunt shuffled back to his spot and sat down, wide-eyed as he listened to Rebecca speak as though she were the one in charge.
“Before we begin, I’d like to issue my condolences to you again,” Blunt said. “I never had the chance to—”
“Save it,” she said, holding up her hand. “You’ve had over a year to pick up the phone and give me a call. If you really meant what you were about to say regarding Lee, then you’ll do what I’m asking you to do.”
Blunt leaned back in his seat, interlocking his fingers and placing them behind his head. “After years of working in Washington, I’ve learned not to make any promises I don’t intend to keep. That policy might run counter to how most successful people in Washington operate, but I’d rather do what I do with a modicum of integrity.”
“Nice speech,” she said tersely. “But like I said, if you really cared about Lee, you’ll put your money where your mouth is and help me out.”
Blunt chuckled. “I like you. You’re bold and sassy. You should be on television instead of buried on the internet.”
She held up her hand and looked aside. “Please. Television reporting is an absolute joke. Editors expect you to spin the story for their target audience. And if you don’t, you’re relegated to some panel to argue like a bunch of second graders on the playground fighting to keep the fat kid off your dodge ball team.”
“You don’t mince words, do you?” Blunt said with a laugh.
“I guess you’ve never read my column, have you?”
“No, but I promise you that I’ll be looking it up as soon as you leave. You’re a breath of fresh air in a city full of people gasping beneath the weight of a million polluted promises.”
She smiled for the first time since she entered the room. “Maybe you should be the writer, or at least you could be a source. The Skinny could use someone with your access to all the major players here.”
“I’ll have to politely decline,” he said. “You don’t get to rub shoulders with these people by being a snitch. However, I’m open to hearing what you have to say, so please let’s get on with it.”
Rebecca took a deep breath and then tucked her auburn hair behind her ears. She reached over and dug out a folder from her briefcase on the seat next to her. Opening the file, she pulled out a few pages and set them on top.
“Lee was terrified of getting murdered for doing his job. Obviously, he had a reason to feel that way. But as a result, he never kept any of his really important research at his apartment. He kept just enough on his computer to write his stories, but he always back them up on the cloud in multiple locations. The real juicy tidbits he uncovered were kept in a file in a fireproof safe at my apartment. He was even so nervous about anyone finding out about us that none of our friends ever knew we were dating.”
“For what it’s worth, when I read Lee’s file after he died, you were never in it.”
She
