“I didn’t kill anyone! Why won’t you believe me?!” the young brunette repeated over and over, tears streaming down her face. Her delicate features were swollen and flushed from crying. The so-called “friendly” conversation with the detective had been dragging on for hours.
At the table in the interrogation room, her slender frame trembled as if she were freezing. She wrung her hands, occasionally rubbing her wrists—likely sore from the handcuffs chaining her to the table. A strand of thick, wavy hair fell over her eyes, and she tried to brush it away with her free hand.
The detective, stern as ever, spoke again:
“All the evidence points to you, Inna. If you write a confession, your sentence will be lighter.”
“What evidence?! You’ve got nothing!” she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. “Mrs. Tamara invited me over plenty of times. I’ve been to her house, so of course my fingerprints are there! That proves nothing! And that poker… I used it to stoke the fire. Sometimes she asked me to add logs or adjust them to keep the flames going! Don’t you get it? Why would I kill someone who was paying me? It was in my best interest for her to stay alive!”
“Oh, if only that were true… Quite the opposite, actually. It was in your best interest for her to be dead!” the detective hissed. “Did you know Mrs. Tamara recently received a very interesting letter from a private investigator? Though, chances are, she never got the chance to read it.”
“What letter?” the girl asked, her eyes fixed on him, listening intently.
“The one you stole! Tell me, were you alone, or did you have help?!” the officer slammed his fist on the table, making the suspect flinch.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t steal anything!”
“Oh, we’ll figure that out. I’m sure the letter will turn up. Unless you’ve already destroyed it, right, Inna?” He leaned in closer to her. “You’re not stupid. You’ve probably gotten rid of it by now. But that won’t save you, because the investigator gave us a copy!” he shouted venomously.
“Oh, God…” she exhaled heavily, wiping away her tears. “What letter? What are you even talking about?”
“Come on now, as if you don’t know. Fine, and I suppose you’ve never heard about the change to the old lady’s will either. Of course not. A perfect little angel, aren’t you?” he said sarcastically.
“Believe it or not, I hadn’t heard a thing,” she replied quietly, utterly drained.
“Well then… Let me enlighten you. You came to Mrs. Milchenko’s house to help out and walk her dog. Over time, the lonely old woman grew so fond of you that she added you, a poor little orphan, to her will. But the day before yesterday, she finally received an envelope with news that her long-lost daughter, whom she’d given up in her youth, had been found. You panicked when you realized there’d be another heir. So, you… took care of the old lady and that letter before she could rewrite the will.”
The girl’s eyes widened in shock. Clearly stunned, she murmured:
“I was in her will? You’re kidding. Why on earth would she do that?”
“Enough already!” he slammed his fist on the table again. “Stop playing games! How could you not know?! What, do you expect me to believe she wanted to surprise you and kept it a secret? You think I’m buying that?!”
“You’ll have to, because I honestly had no idea Mrs. Tamara decided to be so generous. I wouldn’t have believed it if anyone else had told me! She was never the sentimental type, always pinching pennies! I’m not complaining—she paid me fairly, as promised. But she never once gave me a dime more than she owed. If she didn’t have smaller bills, she’d wait for me to give her change! Do you get it?!”
“Oh, really?” the detective smirked slyly. “So, you’re admitting you thought she was stingy and didn’t like her, huh? That just proves it wouldn’t have been hard for you to kill the old miser. Especially for the kind of money her estate is worth. She left nearly everything to you!” he yelled right in her face. “We’re talking almost a million dollars!”
The girl recoiled from the aging officer, her face twisting in disgust. She paused for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, through gritted teeth, she said:
“Just because I didn’t think Mrs. Tamara was generous doesn’t mean I killed her. And this is the first I’m hearing about any million. If you hadn’t noticed, the woman lived in a rundown old cottage that hasn’t seen a repair in thirty years. She skimped on heating and ate worse than her dog. It never would’ve crossed my mind that she had a fortune stashed away somewhere!”
Inna raised her voice on that last sentence, emphasizing the absurdity of the accusations. But the detective wasn’t deterred.
“You could’ve found out somehow. Even by accident. You spent plenty of time with her—she might’ve let it slip one day.”
“Sure,” she scoffed, her tone dripping with skepticism. “Just like she could’ve told anyone else she knew. Why are you so fixated on me?! Maybe she mentioned her millions to the nurse who came to give her shots, or the driver who occasionally took her places, or someone else entirely. As far as I know, she didn’t have any close family, but she had plenty of acquaintances! Have you checked them all? Or are you just taking the easy way out? Of course, it’s simpler to pressure a defenseless orphan into confessing than to find the real killer!”
“Well, your so-called defenselessness, sweetheart, is still… up for debate. So, I’d watch that tone if I were you. Do you think we don’t know about your past? This isn’t your first rodeo, is it? Forgot already? The Galenko case three years ago…” he drawled mockingly, trying to hit a nerve. “This time, you won’t walk away scot-free.”
The girl let out a heavy sigh, her gaze dropping to the table. She propped her head up with her hand. The detective smirked with satisfaction. His next question came:
“So, what do you have to say about your alibi for the time of the murder? At home with your pet chinchilla? That’s no alibi, darling. Not. At. All,” he enunciated each word triumphantly.
Inna closed her eyes wearily, letting out a deep sigh. She had no idea that on the other side of the one-way glass, two men were listening to her conversation with the detective—and with keen interest. One of them, in particular, was watching her closely, hanging on her every word. When he heard the mention of her past, he inhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath. Then, in a whisper, he said:
“It’s her… Yes.”
“What else do we know about her?” asked a tall, dark-skinned, muscular man standing beside a major near the interrogation room.
“What? Inna Volodymyrivna Grakovska, 20 years old, orphan. Lived in an orphanage since she was five. Father unknown, mother stripped of parental rights. She’s got an aunt in town, works as a hospital orderly. The girl rents an apartment with a roommate. Studying to be a phys ed teacher. An athlete. That’s about it…” the major mumbled indifferently, glancing at his notes.
“Hand her over to me,” the younger man said suddenly.
“What?” The major let out a surprised chuckle, smirking sideways at his companion. “What do you mean, ‘hand her over’?”
“Just that. You know she didn’t kill that old lady. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”
“And what makes you think she’s so innocent? Because she’s got a pretty face and cries pitifully?” the major scoffed. “Do you know her? Dominik, you’re surprising me. Didn’t see this coming. Since when are you so soft? Feeling sorry for this little troublemaker? You heard it yourself—she’s been suspected of murder before. Last time, there just wasn’t enough evidence to pin it on her. Plus, she was a minor, only 17. They went easy on her. Now, she’s got a motive… A big one. Trust me, I’ve seen it all. People grow fangs over much less money than this. Even dolls like her.”
“I know, Zakhar. This isn’t about pity. I don’t do that. I need her. Let me help you find the real killer, and you make sure this girl gets released. And… I’ll make it worth your while, of course. I know it’s not that simple. So, what do you say? Do we have a deal? You get a pat on the back from the higher-ups and a cleaner conscience, and I get the girl.”
Major Panovsky grinned widely but quickly turned serious. He glanced at the young woman in the interrogation room. It seemed he now saw someone entirely different from the tearful yet stubborn murder suspect of a few minutes ago—someone far more intriguing. He looked back at his companion, lost in thought, perhaps trying to figure out what made this scrappy girl so valuable that a man like Horvat would take an interest in her. And not just any interest—this would cost him dearly. Dominik never threw money around lightly.
“Are you serious? I don’t get the joke. You know this isn’t exactly easy to pull off.”
“Dead serious,” Horvat replied firmly, his tone grim. Then, with a hint of awkwardness, he added:
“But this stays between us. Don’t think I’ve gone… soft or anything, not after all these years since… Well, you know. Just… Zakhar, I don’t ask for help often. This time… trust me, it’s necessary. I can’t explain it right now. Maybe someday.”
The officer stared at the man in bewilderment for a good few seconds. They’d known each other for years, but he still couldn’t figure out what was going on. One thing he was sure of: if Dominik was asking for something like this, it wasn’t random. He never acted without reason. There had to be a serious motive. And it was clearly more than just a sudden attraction to a stranger, no matter how striking she was. He wouldn’t go to such lengths just for a fling. There was something else at play… But what?
“Horvat, you’ve got me curious, honestly. I’m intrigued. I’d love to play along with this little game of yours, but… you know not everything depends on me. There’s a whole team working this murder case. And the brass…”
“Yeah, the brass. Maybe I’ll swing by for coffee with General Panovsky tomorrow,” Horvat said with a sly wink.
“Better let me handle that,” the major chuckled.
“As you wish,” Horvat replied with a faint smile, extending a strong hand. Zakhar shook it.
“Alright, my friend… Let’s see what we can do.”
“Make sure they treat her decently. I need her in one piece,” Horvat said seriously, clapping the major on the shoulder before turning toward the exit.
“Take care, Zakhar. I’ll give you a call.”
That same evening at the detention center...
In a small, dreary cell with peeling walls, Inna found herself in the company of a few other women. Two of them sat silently on separate bunk beds, seemingly too weighed down by their own troubles to care about the newcomer. But the third detainee, a disheveled woman in her fifties with short, messy hair, was clearly bored. She started asking Inna about her situation.
“So, you’re innocent, just like the rest of us here, huh?” she said skeptically.
Inna reluctantly lifted her sad gaze to the woman and replied:
“I can’t speak for everyone, but I definitely didn’t kill anyone.”
“What? They got you for murder?” the woman asked, surprised. “Wow, you’re no small fry,” she whistled and let out a crude curse.
“Yeah. For a murder someone else committed. You don’t have to believe me—I don’t care,” Inna sighed resignedly and turned away. She leaned against the wall, covered with some kind of plastic sheet to keep the crumbling plaster from falling on her back. She pulled her knees up to her chest. It was cold. She curled up tightly.
“What, really?” the woman asked, still doubtful.
“Yeah… Not that it helps, since I don’t have an alibi. Or anyone to stick up for me,” Inna said, her voice heavy with pain. Her sigh echoed through the cell.
“Well… here’s what I’ll tell you… If you’re not guilty, don’t sign anything. You know, they just want someone to pin it on. And you, do you really have no one? Family, a boyfriend? With a face and figure like yours… Come on, you’ve gotta have some guy who’d stand up for you.”
“I’m an orphan. And guys…” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve never had much luck with them. I’m better off without. I’ve got friends, but…”
The cellmate pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“Yeah… not exactly a thrilling story…”
She thought for a moment, then spoke more cheerfully:
“Hey, don’t let it get you down. Things might still work out. Rest up for now. We’ll see what happens.”
“You sound just like my grandma used to. She always said that as long as a person’s not in the ground, there’s still hope. Things can still turn around,” Inna recalled sadly.
“See, and you said you’ve got no one. A grandma—that’s something,” the woman chimed in.
“Yeah… Except… she’s not really my grandma. It’s just… a long story,” Inna sighed.
“Oh… You’re a walking tragedy, aren’t you?” the inmate grimaced. “Well, whoever that ‘not-your-grandma’ was, she had the right idea. Don’t give up just yet. Maybe they’ll find the real killer, and you’ll be out of here.”
“I’m all for that. I just have no idea who it could be,” Inna mused aloud.
“Wanna talk about it? Who got killed? Young, old?”
Inna stayed silent for a bit. She sat up straighter, glancing around the bleak, dimly lit room. Her face twisted in discomfort. Then she began her story:
“Well… I… I worked part-time, going to an older lady’s house to walk her dog. I helped out a bit around the place too—cleaning up, tending to the fireplace, stuff like that. She gave me a set of keys, and sometimes I’d stop by to check on the dog even when she wasn’t home. Yesterday, as usual, I took Lyska out for a walk, and… she led me to an abandoned park. She sniffed out…” She stopped, a lump of despair catching in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears.
“What? A body?” the woman asked bluntly. The other two inmates turned their heads, suddenly interested in the conversation.
Inna nodded sadly.
“Yeah…”
“Someone buried the old lady?” one of the women nearby asked.
“Yes. Mrs. Tamara, the woman I worked for,” Inna sighed.
“Poor doggie… What’s gonna happen to her now?” the third woman said with pity. A calendar with pictures of different dogs hung near her bunk.
“Lucy, come on! The dog’s the one you’re worried about? A person’s dead, another’s getting locked up for nothing, and you’re fretting over a mutt?!” the first woman snapped at her.
“What can I do? People… they’re all different. Often, they bring trouble on themselves. But dogs… they’re so good, loyal, sweet, defenseless,” Lucy started listing off warmly. Then she turned to Inna and asked:
“What breed is she? A pretty dog?”
The women laughed. One of them said to the newcomer:
“Don’t mind her. Lucy’s just had bad luck with people in her life. So, she’s got a soft spot for four-legged friends.”
Inna gave a faint, sad smile.
The conversation continued. The women started sharing their own stories. It turned out Nina and Maria had been in for over two months on theft charges. Lucy had been there even longer, accused of arson after setting fire to a neighbor’s house. She admitted she’d been feuding with him for a long time over his cruelty to animals. One day, she lost it and threatened to burn his place down. Later, someone actually did it. Framing her was all too easy since everyone in the village knew about their conflict.
Soon, the cell door swung open. A guard barked:
“Grakovska, let’s go!”
Everyone exchanged surprised glances. Inna tensed up, not exactly thrilled. She assumed it was another interrogation. Facing that abrasive detective again was the last thing she wanted. But a surprise awaited her.