Berkut is busy with a patient," informed the administrator, a nice young woman with a perfect smile. "But if you'd like to schedule a consultation…"
"This is an official visit," Anna showed her badge. "I'll wait until he's free."
The girl's smile became strained.
"I understand. Please have a seat. I'll let Doctor Berkut know you're here."
Anna looked around. Several people sat in the waiting area: a mother with a child about ten years old, an elderly woman, a young man immersed in reading a book. On the walls—diplomas, certificates, thank-you letters. And photographs: Doctor Berkut with famous people, Doctor Berkut at scientific conferences, Doctor Berkut with groups of children of various ages.
The door of one of the offices opened, and a woman with a teenage girl emerged. Anna froze. Something in the girl's face seemed familiar. Blonde hair, serious eyes… The woman walked past, but Anna managed to notice a medical chart in her hands. On the cover—a colored sticker. A small blue circle.
A man came out of the office after them. The very same one from the photographs. Alexander Viktorovich Berkut.
"Doctor Berkut," Anna rose from her chair.
"Ah, Detective Sviridova," he smiled, extending his hand. "Maria told me you wanted to see me. Has something happened?"
His handshake was firm, his gaze open and friendly. Nothing about him suggested a person capable of the crimes Viktor and Klavdia Mikhailovna had spoken of.
"Investigation into the case of the missing girl. Sophia Velichko."
"Ah yes, I heard. A terrible story. Please, come into my office, let's talk."
Doctor Berkut's office looked exactly as a successful psychiatrist's office should: comfortable furniture, subdued lighting, bookshelves, diplomas on the walls. And not a single elephant.
"How can I help you?" Berkut sat at his desk, gesturing for Anna to take the chair opposite.
"We're establishing the circle of the missing girl's contacts. Was Sophia ever your patient?"
"No, never. I would remember that name."
"And her mother, Elena Andreevna?"
Berkut thought for a moment.
"Possibly. We have many clients. I can check the database if it's important for the investigation."
"Very important. And one more thing," Anna tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible. "Have you ever worked in Tver? At a music school?"
For a fraction of a second, Berkut's gaze changed. Something flashed in his eyes—wariness? Concern? But it immediately disappeared.
"Yes, I did. Early in my career. Tver is my hometown," he leaned back in his chair. "But that was a very long time ago. What does this have to do with your investigation?"
"Just clarifying details. Do you happen to remember a piano teacher named Viktor Rogov? Or Igor Vasilyev, a physical education instructor?"
Now the change in Berkut's face was obvious. He tensed, though he tried to hide it behind a smile.
"The names sound familiar. But, you see, that was twenty years ago. A lot of water under the bridge."
"Of course," Anna smiled back. "And what about Igor Sokolov? Was he ever connected with your center?"
"Sokolov?" Berkut frowned. "I don't recall anyone by that name. Who is he?"
"A physical education teacher at the school where Sophia Velichko studied. He's currently wanted—suspected of involvement in the girl's disappearance."
Berkut shook his head.
"I don't know him. But if he was acquainted with Sophia, perhaps she told him about her problems. Teenagers often trust teachers more than parents."
"What problems could you be referring to?" Anna became alert.
"I'm speaking hypothetically," Berkut spread his hands. "Not knowing the girl personally, I can't say anything specific. But as a specialist, I can suggest that if she became a victim of abduction, then perhaps something preceded it. Perhaps she herself was looking for a way to leave home."
"Are you suggesting Sophia might have run away voluntarily?"
"I'm just considering all possible scenarios. Professional habit," Berkut smiled. "But I'm glad I can be useful to the investigation. If you need consultation on psychological aspects of the case, I'm always at your service."
Anna nodded, carefully observing the expression on his face. Too smooth. Too professional. As if he had been expecting this conversation and had prepared thoroughly.
"One more question, Doctor Berkut. Are you familiar with collecting porcelain figurines? Elephants, in particular?"
It was a shot in the dark, but the reaction exceeded all expectations. Berkut momentarily froze. His right hand, resting on the desk, trembled slightly.
"Funny you should ask," he quickly composed himself. "I do actually have a small collection. Not elephants, though, but porcelain dogs. Why does this interest you?"
"In the apartment where Sophia lived, we found a collection of porcelain elephants. It might be connected to the disappearance."
Berkut shook his head.
"I'm afraid I can't help you there. Although… porcelain figurines are often used in art therapy. They can reveal a lot about a person's inner world."
"How exactly?"
"The choice of figurine, how one handles it, its placement in space—all of this reflects subconscious processes. But again, not knowing Sophia personally, I can only theorize."
Anna stood up, feeling she wouldn't get anything more from this conversation. Berkut was too cautious, too much in control of himself.
"Thank you for your help, doctor. We'll be in touch."
"Always happy to assist justice," Berkut walked her to the door. "And, Detective Sviridova… good luck to you. Cases like these always leave a mark on the soul."
Leaving the center, Anna called Dorokhov.
"He knows more than he's saying. Denies knowing Sokolov, but visibly tensed at the mention of Tver and porcelain elephants. And also—I saw a patient's chart with a blue circle, like the markings in Sokolov's register."
"I have news," Dorokhov's voice sounded excited. "I checked the connections. Elena Andreevna was indeed a patient at the 'New Life' center. Two years ago, a course of therapy for increased anxiety. And guess who referred her there?"
"Viktor Mikhailovich Astakhov."
"Exactly. Moreover, there are records showing that Sophia also underwent 'diagnostics' there. Only three sessions. Then the mother discontinued the therapy. And here's what's strange—there are colored markers in both electronic charts. The mother's is blue. The daughter's is green."
"Wait for me. We need to speak with Elena Andreevna urgently."
Consciousness returned slowly, as if rising from the depths of a dark lake. Sophia opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for several seconds, not understanding where she was. The room. The same room with concrete walls. But something had changed. The walls… drawings had appeared on them. Colorful images of elephants—dozens, perhaps hundreds of figurines, drawn as if by a child's hand.
She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't cooperate well. Her head was spinning, her mouth was dry. What had they injected her with?
"You're awake. Good."
Sophia turned her head. In the corner of the room, a girl about her age sat on a chair. Thin, with short dark hair and large eyes.
"Who are you?" Sophia's voice sounded hoarse.
"My name is Katya," the girl stood up and came closer. "Katya Voronova."
Sophia tried to make sense of what she heard. Katya Voronova. She had heard that name somewhere. Somewhere…
"Have you been here long?" Sophia