Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-six
The morning sun filters into my kitchen from the skylights above. When I first came back to the house yesterday afternoon, I had every intention of packing up a handful of things and checking out of the hotel to head to Azar’s place, but once I actually stepped into my foyer, Gertie greeting me, I felt a rush of homesickness for my cozy cottage. Luckily, Azar is easily dissuaded. He brought over a duffel bag last night and set it by the door. It’s there now.
The phone rings. Nina.
“Yes, we’re still on for this afternoon, and yes, I’ll be there right on time, and yes , I’m sure,” I say immediately upon answering.
“Am I that predictable?”
“Little bit.”
“I guess I have a bit of a hard time relying on people.”
“I had no idea,” I tease her. It’s not even noon yet. “I’m swinging by the agency to grab a few things, but I’ll be at your place by four o’clock with time to spare. Promise.”
“It’s just a networking event,” she says. “If you’re busy, I could skip it.”
“It’s an unofficial job interview.”
She groans. “I’m trying not to think of it like that, or I might have a full-on panic attack.”
“Please. They’d be lucky to have you. Things are slow at the office today anyway. Darcy’s out for wedding fittings, and Genevieve took a sick day. My schedule is clear. I’ve got an alarm reminder on my phone so I won’t lose track of time. Plus, guess who’s getting the award for Number One Auntie this year? I swung by the store last night, and they restocked the stuffed Charmander. I grabbed the second-to-last one they had.”
“You got Lilah the Charmander? She is going to—”
There’s a squeal on Nina’s end of the line.
“Chill, Lilah. Sorry, Nura,” she says as the squeals continue unabated in the background. “Lilah’s got ears like a puppy. I think you’re definitely far and away Auntie of the Year. Azar still coming over to tag-team with you?”
“He’ll join us once he’s off work. We’re going to head to the Stone Bowl House for Korean food. I haven’t tried it yet, but the foodie swears we’ll all love it.”
“Foodie spots are wasted on a four-year-old,” Nina says. “She’ll be equally happy eating a box of mac and cheese.”
“Azar’s response to this would be that we need to refine her palate.”
“Don’t refine it too much,” she warns. “She’s picky enough as is.”
I hang up and fill my water bottle. I pull back my hair and eye my smartphone perennially charging on the counter.
“I miss you,” I say half-jokingly to the glowing device. I’ve heard some people get so used to dumbphones, they never want to go back. For me, absence only makes the heart grow fonder.
A call comes in on my flip phone. Genevieve.
“I have an update on the Usmani investigation,” she says.
“You’re supposed to be off today,” I remind her.
“A cold doesn’t mean I can’t fit in time for a little research. Turns out they’re a pretty huge family, and they live all over the world. It’s a feat to track them all down, but I’m working on accounting for everyone.”
“Thanks, Genevieve.”
“The good news is, so far I haven’t found anyone local,” she says. “And the States-based folks seem pretty intent on living a Kardashian-adjacent lifestyle, but nothing nefarious. I’ll keep you posted if I learn anything more.”
“I really appreciate this.”
“Happy to help.”
I drop my phone in my purse. Earlier today I spoke with the PI that Amara referred me to. He’s still looking into Borzu, but so far there’s been nothing remarkable to note. Borzu frequents three locations almost exclusively: home, his mother’s place, the agency. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious.
I thanked the investigator. I told him it was a relief. Borzu was my trusted employee. He had no reason to deceive me. But, eyeing the broken tracker in my purse, I wish I could feel relief.
—
I park at the agency parking lot. I’m so distracted, I barely notice Fiona keeping pace with my brisk walk until I reach the agency’s glass entrance door. Borzu’s inside. He’s at his computer.
Amara’s PI said nothing suspicious had turned up so far, but…
I turn to Fiona. “I know you like to stay outside to survey the perimeter, but do you mind hanging out inside the agency with me today?”
“My pleasure,” she replies.
Borzu startles when the bell chimes overhead.
“Nura. What are you doing here?”
Borzu’s clean. He’s done nothing wrong.
But then why does he look like a deer in headlights?
“Did I interrupt you?” I ask.
“No, of course not. I…I was catching up on work. I thought you were babysitting today.”
“That’s not until a bit later.”
He’s dyed his hair blue to match his long-sleeved cerulean-colored shirt. I notice for the first time the Movado watch on his wrist. Gucci sunglasses rest by his computer. None of this necessarily means anything. Sure, it’s a new habit, but he’s paid well enough to afford all of these luxuries without blinking. I’ve worked with him for years. He’s never given me a minute of doubt.
And yet—my car was hacked. My location was tracked. The PI said nothing seems amiss, but Borzu is a master at surveillance, which means he’d be a pro at getting around attempts to surveil him.
I need to find out for myself.
I place the device on his desk. Fix my gaze on him.
“Where’d you get this?” He frowns at the tracker.
“Take a wild guess.”
He lifts it and turns it over. Looks up at me incredulously. “Was it on your car?”
“I found it there yesterday morning.”
“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He examines it more closely, then wrinkles his nose. “This is such a basic one.”
“As basic as it might be, it worked.”
He squints at something on the device, then types on his computer.
“It’s from Amazon.” He points to the identical item online. “It’s at least five years old. There’s no way someone bought it from a brick-and-mortar.” He scratches his head. “I don’t get it. Why would anyone go through the hassle of getting this one? There’s way more sophisticated stuff on the market for only a little more money.”
I look at his perplexed expression. My heart hammers in my chest. I need to say it. Address it full on. It’s the only way to truly know.
“Borzu, what’s with all the lifestyle changes? The expensive watch. The fancy coffee machine and new furniture in your condo. The Tesla. What’s going on?”
His relaxed demeanor vanishes. He studies his lap. “Yeah. So. There’s, um, a few things we need to talk about. I keep meaning to. It’s just…with everything going on, the timing’s never been right.”
“Now’s as good a time as any.”
“I made an app.”
I blink at the unexpected explanation.
“It’s a satellite tracker,” he continues. “Gets way better reliability than anything currently on the market for when you’re out of cell tower range. I put it up as a soft launch a year ago just to see what would happen, and it really took off with hiking and outdoorsy types. It ended up gaining a niche popularity that got lots of Silicon Valley types interested. There was a bit of a bidding war to acquire the application. I got bought out a few months ago, and, well…” He gestures at his sunglasses. “My mom said I gotta do something with the windfall.”
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because it’s a violation of the noncompete in my employee agreement?” He looks at me sheepishly. “I wasn’t even thinking it would go anywhere. It was a free app mostly for my own amusement, but once it snowballed, I couldn’t figure out how to tell you.”
“The noncompete was to avoid conflict with the Piyar app. This was never a conflict….” Oh. I look at him. “Are you quitting?”
“Leaving the agency? No way.” He shakes his head. “I love this job. You all are like family to me. I hate that I’ve been distracted, though. I…I feel awful that I haven’t been giving it my all.”
“Borzu, you’ve been here at all hours helping.”
“I could have done more. If I had my head fully in the game, I’d probably have figured out who is behind this already. It’s not like it’s some ghost lurking in the bushes—it’s a person. With a trackable amount of information.”
A car alarm beeps in the distance as Borzu keeps talking. My chest constricts. Borzu had been keeping something from me, but nothing bad. How did Logan get into my head and make me doubt the people I trust most?
“I’m sorry, Borzu,” I tell him. “For asking you all these questions. I appreciate everything you do. You had every right to keep this to yourself.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. For not telling you everything.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
He won’t meet my eye. “Not about the app. There’s, um, something else I need to tell you. I don’t know how to say it.”
Before he can continue, the doorbell chimes.
The front door swings open.
A man walks in.
Logan Wilson.