Beauty & the Beast by Nancy Holder

cleared her throat. She was so afraid to say the wrong thing. But she was beginning to be more afraid that her time was running out.
    “So, is Ilya your brother?”
    Svetlana pulled a comical grimace of horror and crossed herself. “No way. Colleague only. His uncle…” She stopped herself. “Don’t ask questions.”
    “Okay, sorry.” Heather held up her hands. “I’m just scared. I talk a lot when I’m scared.”
    Svetlana said, “Is good you’re scared.” Then she shook her head, pulled up the folding chair outside the cell, and plopped down into it. “Doesn’t matter.”
    “Why not?” Heather extended a shaking hand toward her. “Svetlana, are you… are you going to kill me?”
    Svetlana’s eyes flashed with anger. She sat up straight. “You see what we did. You see we kill Ravi Suresh.”
    “I know Ilya killed him, not you. And I also think that was a mistake. You do too,” Heather said, pushing. “He could have gotten a duplicate chip for you.”
    The other woman caught her lower lip between her teeth. Then she nodded.
    “You feel the same way. Svetlana, it would be a mistake to kill me. My sister is a cop. NYPD.”
    “If I am ordered,” Svetlana began, but she didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she rested her elbow on her knee and cradled her forehead. Her loose blonde hair draped forward. She laughed wanly. “Look at this. Crazy mop of hair.”
    “I’ve worked in fashion,” Heather said. “You know, fashion? Like Project Runway ? You have great cheekbones. And you’re tall and thin. You’d be a good model.”
    A harsh laugh was Svetlana’s response. “I am Russian criminal, not model.”
    “But you could be one. They like those kinds of edgy backgrounds.” When Svetlana didn’t appear to understand, Heather elaborated. “They like dangerous women for models.”
    Svetlana sucked in her cheeks, raised her chin, made as if to raise a pistol, and cried, “Bang!” She didn’t aim her fantasy gun at Heather. She aimed it in Ilya’s direction. “Die, asshead!”
    The two shared a smile. Then Svetlana went dark again. Heather needed to keep a bond between them. “Do you think I could have a towel or a blanket to sleep on?” she asked. “The ground is so cold.”
    Svetlana shrugged. “We don’t have here.”
    “I know. But maybe the next time you go home, could you bring me back something? An old rag, something you don’t care about?”
    Something shifted in Svetlana’s gaze. Heather couldn’t quite read it, and she didn’t know what it meant. But there was a change, and Heather wondered if it was good or bad.
    Oh, my God, what if I don’t have one more night?
    “Maybe I bring,” Svetlana said.
    “And… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, maybe a flashlight? It’s so dark in here and the rats come…”
    Svetlana’s gaze shifted toward the ceiling. For the first time, Heather noticed a tiny ebony square. Was it a window? Was she just one story below a street where there were people? If she opened her mouth and screamed, would anyone hear her? Could they get to her in time?
    “Nice try, smart girl,” Svetlana said. Then she got up and left. The cell door lock clicked ominously behind her.
    But she had left the camping lantern on. On purpose? As a gesture of kindness? Heather had often listened to Tess and Cat discussing their cases back when they were partners—on the phone or during a movie night at the apartment—and one of the most interesting things they talked about was getting a bad guy to “flip.” To become a good guy, basically. To reveal information that would solve the case, incriminate his or her friends, or confess. Most of the time, people flipped to save their own skin. But sometimes they did it because their conscience was bothering them. They weren’t completely bad. They were still redeemable.
    Was Svetlana redeemable? Svetlana had stepped into Heather’s line of vision when Ilya had killed Ravi. She’d made him back off when he’d