And then those bird-watching people came hiking out of the woods. They had a cellphone and called the police. I was at the edge of the pond holding a big stick when they saw me. I was only trying to drag her to land. They backed up like they thought I was going to hit them with it. Sergei ran away into the trees and I followed him. It was dark with all the leaves overhead. He lit a cigarette. I told him he’d have to take responsibility. It was then that he said he would tell the truth, he would make sure they knew it was him. I ran back out crying, asking the nature people to help me while the Lulu bird floated in the water and Sergei ran away to his car.

I can hear them coming down the hall now.

The door opens and the sheriff is standing there with cuffs and shackles. “Time to go for a ride,” he says, no smile. “Stand up, please and put your hands behind your back.”

I stand up and face the ugly beige wall. It seems to move forward, closing in on me, challenging me. I won’t close my eyes and give in.

I was looking at this same wall the first time I talked to my lawyer. He was telling me that the police were interviewing Sergei for the millionth time, and if the judge accepted Sergei’s testimony, they’d drop the charges against me when I came to court to enter a plea.

The metal snaps together as they put the cuffs on. They don’t say anything about my sweating hands. The shackles take longer. I’m just standing there, being cooperative. The shackles catch on the leg of my grey sweatpants. The sheriff apologizes to me.

“It’s okay,” I say, looking at the wall.

And just then, the warden comes in. He clears his throat, that’s how I know it’s him. “Your lawyer just called. Your friend Sergei is going to testify,” he says.

I just smirk. Tell me something I don’t know, I think.

But then he does. “The Russian says that you killed the girl. He couldn’t go through with it so you did it and he hit you, he tried to stop you,” he says in his flat voice. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

I don’t say a word.

Instead, I smile.

Smile at the beige wall. You know that kind of smile, the smile of a thousand knives. The wall trembles.

“They dredged the pond and found the necklace.” The warden clears his throat again. “They are charging you with murder in the first degree.”

I keep right on smiling because I’m going to stick a knife in Sergei’s gut as soon as I get my hands on him, and I can’t wait to see his face then. I should have known he wouldn’t keep his word. You can’t trust Russians. No one will ever believe him. No one will take his word over mine. Or my father’s. My father is with me every step of the way. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that.