Rattlesnake Island

Vanya reached the park, found the picnic table where Zoey was to meet her for lunch, sat and waited. The Park is quaint and intimate. At waters edge, it’s covered with lush green grass, large trees, bunches of flowers planted throughout, and several picnic tables. A perfect place for lunch.

She took in the lazy summer day. The blue sky, dotted with a few clouds like large white cotton balls. The waters of Meredith Bay, crystal clear—the glass surface mirroring the sky and clouds. She also had a beautiful view of the verdant White Mountains.

“Nice mountains aren’t they, Officer?”

Vanya jerked at the voice. Vicktor Zamiatin towered over her.

He pointed to her shopping bag. “Appears you’ve been enjoying the morning. It’s a beautiful summer day on the lake. My son used to like Meredith.”

Vanya stood and felt her shoulder bag for the hard comforting lump of her pistol. “Um, what are you doing here? And I mean right here.” She pointed to the ground between them.

“You’re very suspicious of me for some reason, Officer. I have every right to walk the streets of Meredith and along this park.”

“Yeah, um…I know you do. I just don’t want you around me. Now please leave. Take a walk along the bay or in town. Go to the freakin’ bookstore and buy a book for recovering stalkers. Just leave me the hell alone.”

“I will, but I want to talk to you first.”

“We have nothing to talk about. Now leave.” Vanya thought about Zoey arriving in a few minutes. It wouldn’t be good for Zoey to be seen with her. Zamiatin would be furious.

Zamiatin pointed at her. “You may not have anything to talk about, but I do. You see, I found out you and your partner shot and killed my son and his friends. How do you think that makes me feel? I thought I could trust police officers to serve and protect. Not to shoot and kill.”

She wasn’t going down this road. Not with him. Not ever. And especially not with Zoey about to arrive any minute. “Listen! I’m not discussing this case with you.”

Zamiatin stared at her with eyes of fire. “You kill my son and now you’re out on the town buying a nightgown. You obviously have no idea how this could feel?”

She thought of Logan’s tragic death—a death she should have prevented. “Yeah, so um…here’s the deal. I do know how it feels. Now get the hell away from me.”

“I’ll tell you how I feel. Besides grieving for my murdered son, I feel very angry. And when I’m angry, I’m very dangerous to be around. Just ask any of my associates.”

Vanya glanced around and didn’t see the Arab, but he was so short he could hide behind just about anything. Short stature didn’t matter though if you’re armed with a gun or knife. A knife would be best in this situation, she figured. She cut her eyes to Zamiatin.

He flipped open a large folding knife and began cleaning his fingernails.

“Are you threatening me?” She asked.

“I’m cleaning me fingernails, little missy. Do you feel threatened? Should you feel threatened? Maybe you feel paranoid because you murdered my son.”

A quick squirt of adrenaline shot into her veins, heightening her senses. “I will not kowtow to you. Your son shot me first and I fired in self-defense.” She raised her voice, “That, Mr. Zamiatin is not murder. But what happened out on Moose Island was!”

“Are you accusing me of those murders?”

“Let’s just say you’re on my short list as a POI.”

“I’m your person of interest? That’s absurd.”

“I’m not discussing this with you any further. Take it to court if you’d like, but now I want you to leave.” She glanced over Zamiatin’s shoulder and saw Zoey standing street-side and bug-eyed, forty yards away. Oh, for the love of God.

Zamiatin followed her gaze, then returned his attention to Vanya, his face flush with rage. “Oh…I’ll take care of this, little missy. Believe me.” He stepped toward Vanya and began twirling his knife with his fingers while locking eyes with her.

“Step back…now!” Vanya drew her pistol from her shoulder bag, and gripped it with both hands, barrel down, close to her chest. “Step back! And I am speaking to you as a police officer.”

Zamiatin stood his ground, twirling his knife.

She noted the way he handled the knife, the piercing way he held her gaze. This man is definitely a professional. Probably a professional killer. That’s what she saw in his eyes the other day—danger. He’d done this before, she was certain. Possibly just seconds before he eviscerated his victims.

Zamiatin stole another glance over his shoulder. He didn’t retreat as ordered. Rather, he stepped a foot closer, continuing to twirl the knife. Now, only four feet separated them. “What do you think I should do about this situation?” He asked.

“Put that weapon away, turn around and leave. That’s what.”

He stood his ground, glaring at her like a famished leopard.

She didn’t want to retreat, but tactically, it was necessary. While maintaining eye contact, she edged backward around the picnic table, putting it between them. This would give her more reaction time in case he lunged. She glanced over Zamiatin’s shoulder, Zoey had advanced.

What’s she doing?

Zoey now stood a mere ten yards from Zamiatin, had moved to his right, and leveled a pistol at him.

A pistol?

Zamiatin followed Vanya’s gaze, looking to his right. He saw Zoey, gun in hand, pointed at him. His cold gray eyes darted from Vanya to Zoey and back again. He spit on the ground. “You stupid woman. You arrogant Russian bitch.” He raised his voice. “Do you know who I am? Can you be so stupid as to threaten me? Do you have any idea who you’re toying with? I can ruin your lives.” He glared at Vanya. “And that of you’re husband. As it is, I’m terminating his contract.”

“Yeah, um…thanks for the small favor. And don’t even think about threatening my husband.” She pointed a finger at him with her free hand. “And as far as I’m concerned, you’re a criminal, and I’m five seconds from arresting you and throwing your fat ass in the can.” Vanya noticed Zoey had maneuvered a little closer, flanking Zamiatin, her pistol leveled steady on him.

He laughed, “You? Arrest me?” Ha! For what? I’m simply walking in the park, cleaning my fingernails.” He advanced two more steps. Now he was at the end of the picnic table, within easy striking distance.

“For starts,” Vanya said, “brandishing a weapon in public and threatening a police officer. Second, as a suspect in two double homicides. Third, as an alleged head of a Russian crime ring, running drugs on my lake. Now step the hell away from me!” She raised her pistol and aimed center mass at his chest. “If you take one more step toward me, I’ll put you down!”

Vanya glanced up at the road, then across to the waters edge. A large crowd had gathered: shoppers, shopkeepers, sunbathers, mothers mashing their kid’s faces to their chests—all staring wide-eyed, mouths agape.

She locked eyes with Zamiatin. “BACK AWAY…! NOW!” She thrust her pistol at him, assuming an isosceles shooting stance—left leg quartered back for balance, right knee flexed, two hands on her pistol.

Zamiatin had also noticed the gathering crowd. But he refused to be intimidated by anyone, let alone two women. He did note Vanya’s aggressive stance, with her pistol pointed at his chest. He also knew by looking at the diameter of the barrel, it was a large caliber. He glanced to his right, to where Zoey had advanced on him, aiming her weapon at his head. Now he heard police sirens converging from two directions.