Chapter 12
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This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.
Hena stepped into the conference room adjacent to the mayoun hall.
The long oak table gleamed beneath the recessed lighting.
It was a sleek, modern space—designed for CEOs who had chosen a tropical location for their annual board meeting to sneak in some sun.
It certainly wasn’t meant for whatever this conversation was about to be.
The detective shut the door and sat down across from her. He wore khakis and a linen shirt, ostensibly to avoid drawing attention to his presence, though the odds were everyone in attendance had already figured out exactly who he was.
She was afraid to know why he was there.
Folding his hands on the table, he leaned forward.
“I’m not sure you remember me. Detective Milcheck,” he introduced himself. “I’ve been investigating your fiancé’s disappearance.”
“I remember you,” she said. “I thought the case had gone cold.”
“Interesting assumption.” He studied her like she had given something away. “Why would you think that?”
Was he serious? “It’s been three years,” she said slowly. “That’s why. I’ve received no updates.”
“Just because we don’t call doesn’t mean we let things fall to the wayside,” he said. “And when we get new information, we act.”
Her breath caught. “You found something new?”
“We received a tip, yes.” His eyes were trained on her. “It’s about you.”
“Me?”
“Someone reported you have information pertaining to his absence,” he continued. “That you might know where he is.”
The timing of this “tip” meant whoever phoned it in was at the wedding. She wasn’t surprised, but the disappointment stung. It was one thing to gossip with one another, but to bring the police into this?
“I wish I knew where he was,” she said. “It’s why I called every week for years trying to see if you all might do your jobs. Last I remember, you said disappearing isn’t a crime.”
“Ms. Mirza, we have been doing our jobs. As you can see, we are still doing our jobs.” He frowned. “While going missing is not a crime, we take it seriously if there’s suspicion of foul play. If you know something about what happened to him, it’s important you share it with us.”
The door swung open.
Haris. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him. Before the detective could speak, he drew to Hena’s side.
“She won’t be answering any questions without me present,” Haris told the detective. “I’m her attorney.”
His presence alone was enough to shift the air in the room. Hena gave Haris a grateful smile as Milcheck leaned back.
“That was fast,” he said.
“Lulu filled me in just a second ago.” Haris gave Hena an apologetic look before turning back to the detective. “We don’t want any misunderstandings.”
“Of course not,” Milcheck replied, but there was something smug in his tone. “Funny thing, though—misunderstandings usually start when people have something to hide.”
“What do you think I’m hiding?” Hena’s voice rose. “If I knew where he was, why would I have kept it secret all these years?”
Haris touched her knee gently beneath the table—a reminder to stay calm. A reminder he was here to help her, and she needed to let him.
“Detective, if you have something to say, say it,” Haris told him. “This is a family wedding, and we would like to return to the festivities.”
As though on cue, there was the crackling sound of fireworks. Brilliant orange and green sparks burst into the night sky through the windows.
“Ms. Mirza, we recently got a ping from a cell tower near Homestead,” said Detective Milcheck. “We have reason to believe the device belonged to Nasir Wahidi.”
Homestead? Her pulse quickened. Homestead was here. In Florida. Only an hour south of them. Looking at Haris, he was processing this as well—the news clearly a shock to him too. He nodded, signaling for her to answer.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said truthfully.
“You don’t know,” he repeated. “Let me be honest. Here’s what we do know. We know he didn’t arrive for your wedding. We know he turned off his phone the morning of the nuptials. We know his accounts were emptied. So we know there was premeditation in his leaving.”
“None of this is new,” she said, her frustration leaking out.
“We received a tip that you saw him—in fact, spoke to him—not just the night before, but the morning of his disappearance. Which means you would have been the last person to have seen him.”
Shit. This was something new. Something that sent ice down her spine.
“We also have reason to believe the quarter of a million dollars he removed from his account was yours,” he said.
A wave of nausea passed through her. How would he know? No one knew about that.
“I don’t appreciate this fishing expedition, Detective.” Haris’s tone sharpened. “Gossip isn’t a justification for harassment.”
“This isn’t a fishing expedition. It’s a tip.
” Milcheck’s voice grew clipped. “A guest at this wedding reported their concerns, and we’re obligated to investigate any new information that comes to light.
Ms. Mirza, it’s a simple question. And I’m assuming it would be all right if you shared your bank statements with us for the relevant time period?
A quick look at your records from that time frame will put this particular theory to bed. ”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. This was déjà vu. They had asked to see her bank statements three years ago. She had demurred. They hadn’t pressed.
That part of her life was supposed to be behind her.
But if they saw her records, nothing would be behind her at all.
“We are done here.” Haris pulled out a business card from his wallet and slid it across the table. “If you have cause to bring my client in for questioning, or if you have a subpoena to request her records, contact me. Otherwise, we invite you to leave the premises.”
Milcheck pursed his lips, but he took the card. He studied Hena as he stood. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Mirza.”
He was nearly at the door when he looked at the card. His focus shifted to Haris. Something flickered across his face.
“So, you’re Haris.”
Haris’s face remained unreadable. “Is there something else?”
“Well, it’s interesting.” The detective studied the card. “I wasn’t going to mention this as it hardly seemed relevant, but the tip we received mentioned you. Or rather, the two of you.”
He gave them a knowing look. Hena stiffened. Was he accusing them both of conspiring to get rid of Nasir?
“If it’s of relevance, please share what you’ve heard,” Haris said calmly.
The detective looked from her to Haris. “I’m still figuring out if it is.”
“Excellent,” Haris said. “Once you’re done enjoying all the gossip our guests can regale you with and are actually ready to find Nasir, get in touch. Until then.” Haris gestured to the door.
When he was gone, Hena pressed her back against a wall to get her bearings.
“Wh-what was that?” she stammered. “Was he implying we did something to Nasir?”
“He’s throwing darts in the air,” Haris said. “Hoping to touch a nerve. That’s all. If they had anything real, we’d be having a different conversation.”
She should have felt reassured by this. But she wasn’t. Because someone had called the detective with this information. And whether they were speculating or not, what they told him was true.
She had spoken to Nasir that morning.
The money Nasir withdrew had been hers.
“Now what?” she asked shakily. “Are they going to go through my accounts? Are they going to—”
“Not without legal justification they won’t,” Haris said. “First thing tomorrow I’ll head to the police station and find out what is going on. If there’s new information, if they really found his location, you deserve the full picture. Don’t worry, Hena. We got this.”
We. For the first time since Milcheck arrived, her chest loosened. Haris was right. She wasn’t alone in this. Despite all the years that had passed, here he was, helping her carry this weight.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” she said.
“I’m happy to help.”
“I’m sorry, Haris,” she said. “For leaving the way I did. Khala…Lulu…you. None of you deserved that.”
“No one could blame you.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re glad you’re back, though. I’m glad you’re back.”
She met his warm gaze and something stirred in her. She quickly pushed it away.
They walked toward the large oak doors. She braced herself for a sea of wedding guests on the other side trying to listen in, but only Irum was waiting in the hallway for them. Arms crossed, she wore a grim expression. Before Hena could say anything, Irum spoke first.
“Lulu told me to come find you,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Hena, but it looks serious.”
“What is it?” Hena asked.
Before Irum could reply, Hena saw red and white lights flashing outside the hotel entrance.
She rushed through the sliding doors. Partygoers were gathered around the ambulance. Before she could ask what happened, she heard the sliding doors part behind her. Two medics wheeling a stretcher hurried past as bits of conversation wafted over to her.
The stress was too much…
The officer…
The shame of it all…
That poor thing, after all she’s been through…
Their words surrounded Hena, but all she could focus on was her.
Ammi.
Lying motionless on the stretcher.