They sat down on a bulky couch while Oksana rushed into the kitchen. Cohen heard the clink of china. Oksana emerged a few moments later with a large plate of home-baked cookies and a teapot on a tray with cups, spoons, a creamer, and sugar bowl. Without asking, she poured tea for each of them, and offered them cookies. “When we mourn, we bake,” she said with a Ukrainian accent. “I have no room left in my cupboards. Please. Please.”

Kilburn reached for a cookie. After everyone had at least one, she finally sat down in the chair next to Lopez at the end of the couch. “You have come a long way to talk about Viktor,” Oksana said, folding her hands in her lap.

Lopez reached out and touched the back of Oksana’s hand. “We’re so sorry about your husband.”

Oksana smiled tightly and nodded.

Lopez removed her hand. “Your husband was an experienced fisherman, wasn’t he?”

“Ever since coming to America, Viktor loved to fish.”

“Was he a good swimmer?” Lopez asked.

Oksana shook her head. “No, he could not swim.”

Kilburn frowned. “And he wasn’t wearing a life jacket that morning?”

“The police say he wasn’t,”but Viktor always wore a life jacket.”

“Didn’t the police think it unusual that he wasn’t wearing one then?” Kilburn asked.

“That morning when he went out was chilly, but when the sun rose it got very hot.” Oksana stared at her hands. “They think Viktor was standing up to take off his coat and life jacket, when he tipped the boat …”

No one spoke for a moment. Finally, Cohen asked, “Did you ever fish with your husband?”

Oksana looked up at him with a sad smile. “I don’t fish, but usually I kept Viktor company in the boat.”

Cohen cocked his head. “Why weren’t you with him that morning?”

“He asked me not to.”

“Why?” Cohen said.

“Viktor worried a lot,” she sighed. “Sometimes he didn’t feel it was safe for me in the boat. That day, he was scared something might happen to us. To me.”

Lopez sat up straighter. “Scared of what?”

“You must understand, Viktor came from the old communist system.” Oksana sighed. “In the late seventies, when he graduated university, he was given a research job with a government lab in Kiev. Viktor thought he would be working on agricultural veterinary research. It was military research. He didn’t want to do it but he had no choice.”

“Are you talking about biological weaponry research?” Cohen asked.

Oksana closed her eyes and nodded once. “Life was not easy.” Her eyes opened. “The KGB watched him at all times. He never felt safe. Even after we fled to America, Viktor never stopped looking for spies.” She paused. “But the week before he died, Viktor became more afraid. He thought someone was following him.”

“Did he say why?” Cohen asked.