Chapter 14
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Two trips to the hospital and back, and Hena finally returned to her suite. The adrenaline that had kept her functioning all night had fully drained out of her system, leaving her hollow.
She dropped her purse on the kitchen table and texted Lulu for an update on their mother.
The sun was steadily rising in the sky. It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning.
Waves of exhaustion rippled through her so strongly she considered collapsing then and there.
She wanted nothing more than the oblivion of sleep.
She kicked off her shoes and walked toward the bedroom.
Suddenly she heard it: a creak.
Hena froze.
The noise sounded again.
Just like last time.
Which means it’s nothing, Hena told herself. Buildings settled. It was what Lulu said. And this one, built over the wetlands, likely settled more than most. Her nerves were frayed and she was exhausted. The sooner she slept, the better.
A knock.
Hena paused. She edged to the door. Peered through the peephole. No one. Cautiously, she cracked it open. The hallway was empty. But she’d heard a knock.
Hadn’t she?
Shutting the door, Hena latched the bolt. She moved to grab her phone to call the front desk, when—
Footsteps.
The undeniable sound of heels clicking against tile. Someone was here. They were in this suite.
Shit. She needed to leave. Now. She yanked at the doorknob, ready to flee, when—
“Hena?”
Lucinda. She emerged from the kitchen holding a vase of flowers and a wrapped gift.
Seeing Hena’s stricken expression, her face flooded with color.
“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “I thought you were at the hospital. I’d have rung the front door otherwise.”
“Wh-where did you come from?”
“The service entrance.”
She led Hena to a laundry room tucked behind the kitchen. Hena hadn’t noticed it before, but sure enough, there it was: A narrow white door opened onto a landing. A metal staircase across from it led to the ground.
“I had no idea there were two entrances,” Hena said.
“It’s a fire code thing,” Lucinda replied. “Lulu also prefers staff use the back entries so as not to jam up the elevators for our guests.”
She apologized again for giving Hena a scare.
“It’s okay,” Hena said, her pulse settling down.
“I’m glad to hear your mother is better.” Lucinda handed Hena the flowers and gift. “It looks like someone was thinking of you.”
She headed out the back entrance, and Hena tried not to flinch at the way the stairs creaked with each step Lucinda took.
The same creak she’d heard the night of the storm.
Was it possible it hadn’t been in her head? And if so…
Stop.
Hena tried shaking it off. This was the exhaustion talking. That was all.
But.
The man who’d tried to kill her had never been caught. The police had insisted he’d likely died. Swallowed by the swamp behind her family home.
But likely was not definitely.
There was a chance he was still alive. There was a chance he knew she was back in town.
Maybe he was looking for her.
Maybe he had already found her.
Or maybe it really was the wind. Maybe I should calm down. This place had security, Hena reminded herself. Multiple cameras. So many people. She just needed to get through a few more days.
Hena set the flowers on the kitchen table—gorgeous pink peonies. She opened the note.
Thinking of you and your family—Reza
Her heart lifted as she unwrapped the gift: a KitKat bar.
Pulling out her phone, she texted him.
Hena: You know the way to my heart, don’t you?
Three bubbles appeared. Then—
Reza: There’s more KitKat bars where that came from
Hena: Thank you, Reza. This is so sweet and thoughtful.
Reza: The least I could do. And if you need a break, the boating trip is still on the table…
Hena’s smile lingered. Before she could reply, the phone lit up with an incoming call—Lulu.
“Is Ammi all right?” Hena asked as soon as she answered.
“She’s fine,” Lulu said. “Turns out the initial guess was right—severe dehydration. They’ve got her on a higher level of electrolytes, and she’s perking up. We’ll probably get the discharge paperwork in a little bit. She’ll be back in time for the mehndi.”
“I’m happy to help,” Hena offered. “Whatever you need, don’t hesitate.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I do need help. Not with the mehndi, though.”
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s simple, I promise. The men are on their deep-sea fishing excursion, but the charter bus for the women’s outing is set to leave at noon. It’s the Bartelo House.”
“What is this one?” Hena grabbed the wedding binder from the coffee table and paged through it. “I can’t keep track of all the events you’ve got going on.”
“How have you never heard of the Bartelo House?” Lulu exclaimed. “It’s that cute little boho chic place by the water where Mariela shares her visions.”
“So, she’s like a fortune teller?”
“Not like a fortune teller, she is a fortune teller. Mariela? She’s got three million followers on TikTok!
” Lulu sounded personally offended. “She can read people’s fortunes without ever having met them.
You choose the topic you want her to explore, and she takes it from there.
It’s uncanny how good she is. She predicted I’d meet Khaled.
She knew it down to the month. I told her to keep today’s fortunes strictly peppy and upbeat so everyone can leave in good spirits.
They’ll have tea and sweets followed by the palm reading, and everyone gets to take their fortune home memorialized in a cute little typed-up scroll. It should be fun.”
“So…what’s the favor?”
“I need you to go.”
“Lulu—”
“We need a representative from the family,” she said. “Khala won’t leave Ammi’s bedside, and Ammi doesn’t want me to go. Besides, I have the power of attorney, so I should be close by. You know, in case.”
In case she had to use it. This really could be any day now, couldn’t it?
“Please, Hena?” Lulu pleaded on the other end of the line. “I promise it won’t be too painful.”
“Of course I’ll go,” Hena told her. She would take a quick catnap. She’d much rather crash for a few hours—her body was almost demanding it—but this was what family did. They showed up for each other.
“Thank you!” Lulu said. “Lean into the kitschy, okay? It’ll be fun.”
—
Lulu and Hena clearly had different definitions for what constituted kitschy.
The three-story moss-lined Bartelo House perched on the edge of a sleepy inlet was over-the-top extravagant. Banana, orange, and guava trees framed the lush grounds. Actual peacocks strutted across the lawns. Gentle instrumental music wafted in the background.
Servers in full livery carried trays of pastries and crystal glasses filled with something pink and fizzy. Courtney and a few aunties made affirmation bracelets at a high-top strewn with beads and crystals.
Irum was getting a tea sandwich when Hena joined her at the snack table.
“How’s your mom?” Irum asked.
“She should be getting discharged from the hospital any minute. Thanks for handling the mehndi stuff today.”
“It’s all set,” she said. “We’ll stay strictly on schedule. I’m making sure of it.”
“Thanks, Irum,” Hena told her.
Irum pressed her lips together. “The detective who came by last night. He was the same one from your wedding?” When Hena nodded, Irum’s expression grew clouded. “Was he here about Nasir?”
Things had been so chaotic since the detective had swung by, Hena hadn’t found the right time to bring it up. Of course Irum had questions. Of course she wanted to know. She deserved to know.
Hena told her what little relevant information Detective Milcheck had shared: The phone ping. That it had come from the Homestead area. That it may have been Nasir’s phone. Maybe.
Irum’s lips parted. The hope blooming across her face broke Hena’s heart.
Before Hena could tell her that Haris hadn’t put much stock in it, that he suspected this was the detective’s ruse to get her talking, Irum spoke again.
“Was Kiran right?” she asked, almost to herself. “Did she actually see him?”
Hena stiffened. “What?”
“Kiran. She said she saw him,” Irum said, excitement rising in her voice. “A few days ago. At Las Olas.”
“Sh-she saw Nasir?”
“Well, she said she saw someone who looked like him. I didn’t think anything of it.
She didn’t talk to him or even get a picture, and she said he was dressed like a hobo with oversized sunglasses.
Does that even sound like Nasir?” She shook her head, half laughing.
“I figured it was Kiran being Kiran. You know, gossip for gossip’s sake.
I didn’t even dare tell my mother. I wouldn’t want to get her hopes up.
” Her eyes were brighter. “But, maybe? Maybe it was him?”
Hena’s pulse ticked up. Could Milcheck have been telling the truth? Did he really get a ping from Nasir’s phone? And if they traced him to Homestead…
She pulled out her phone. She scrolled to his name in her contacts. Three years later, there he was. Brown hair parted to the side. A photo she’d captured mid-laughter. She pressed the call button. Held the phone to her ear.
“Straight to voicemail.”
“But it could have been on for a little while.” Her smile wavered. “It’s why my father won’t cut the line. He said he’d leave it just in case. So…maybe?”
A dull ache throbbed in Hena’s head. She needed to tell Haris about Kiran. What she thought she’d seen. Soon. But before that, there was something else Hena needed to know.
“The detective said someone at the wedding accused me of being involved in Nasir’s disappearance,” she said.
She studied Irum’s face as this sank in.
“Are you serious?” Irum said, blanching. “Does Lulu know?”
“I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet. With everything going on, it’s hard to find the right time.”
“She needs to know. This…this is beyond the pale. Isn’t there enough for them to gossip about? There has to be a limit.”
She seemed genuinely surprised. And angry. Which meant she probably hadn’t called in the tip.
“I’m scared to ask, but…how deep in the hole was he?” she asked Hena. “My brother?”
“The hole?” Hena repeated.