Chapter Fifteen
Saffi sprang violently upright from her desk at the burst of light. Taylor, the source of her disorientation, gave her a tight-lipped smile from the open doorway, looking more frantic than apologetic.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know you don’t sleep enough as it is.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, already shoving her arms through the sleeves of her suit jacket and jumping to her feet. She pinched her thigh when the brain fog took longer than usual to dissipate.
“I know I’m not technically supposed to be investigating—”
“Get to the point, Taylor.” The fact that he couldn’t help himself was as unsurprising as it was uninteresting. Saffi fell into step beside him and they hurried out of the office together.
“Something happened two days ago, and I think it’s related to the case,” he explained. At her expression of disbelief, he added, “It wasn’t public knowledge until a couple hours ago.”
Saffi was suddenly more awake than she’d been in days. She forced her feet to move faster. “There’s been another murder?” she guessed.
“Something like that,” Taylor said vaguely, huffing as they crossed the hallway.
The perpetrator must’ve taken notice of Saffi’s challenge and panicked. It had been quiet since she first issued her challenge almost two weeks ago, which had been worrying. But clearly it had paid off.
Saffi was so caught up in her excitement that the hollowness creeping into her chest shocked her enough to stumble.
Taylor steadied her by the arm and gave her an odd look, to which she couldn’t respond.
Usually, the familiar heart-pounding, full-body excitement of a mystery close to its end was her favorite part of the process.
But all she could think about now was how soon it would all be over.
How soon she’d be on the other side of the world again with no more peace than she’d started with.
Taylor held the door for her, leaving Saffi with no choice but to swallow her hesitations and hurry after him.
The late-night chill sent tingles across her cheeks, the moon bearing the greatest witness to the world’s latest atrocities.
Andino was already waiting for them behind the wheel, his car’s engine rumbling to life quicker than they could buckle their seatbelts.
“Will one of you explain to me what’s going on?” Saffi asked as the car peeled out of the parking lot.
Andino and Taylor exchanged a look, almost freakishly in sync. Saffi wondered how she’d never noticed the mirroring or the wordless, easy communication before. Maybe because, back then, it had been the three of them moving as one.
“I have reason to believe the killer struck again two days ago in Beverly Hills,” Taylor explained.
“So we’re going to Beverly Hills?”
Taylor shook his head. “We’ll get the police report for that. Right now we’re going to the hospital.”
Saffi was confused for half a second before she caught on, heart thumping in anticipation. “The victim survived?”
—
Hospital waiting rooms, despite their best efforts, were never not the most depressing places on the planet.
The walls were white, the floors gray with the occasional speck of color to give the illusion of life.
The chairs lining the walls were always a simple neutral color, but somehow exceptionally comfortable.
Posters either raved about what fun it was to wash your hands and eat your veggies or gave detailed depictions of various bodily systems that could put even Saffi to sleep.
Something about this made her skin crawl and it wasn’t just the environment. Saffi had a high tolerance for fucked-up shit considering her line of work, but even she’d never come across something so wrong. Something so confusing it spun her mind in circles.
When they’d arrived at the hospital, it wasn’t supposed to be Dimple Kapoor bleeding out in one of the patient rooms. It wasn’t supposed to have been her who’d fallen two stories from the balcony of yet another celebrity Beverly Hills rager.
More than anything, Saffi was horrified that she’d been the last to know.
Despite aching lethargy and a pounding migraine, she paced as she awaited her turn to visit the woman in question, fingers tapping a staccato beat against her biceps. The victim. Saffi shuddered. Victim and Dimple Kapoor didn’t belong in the same sentence.
The message left behind by the killer had been even more subverting.
A weathered promotional poster for the Insomnia movie with Dimple Kapoor’s face marked out in red.
On the back was a printed note that read: Two down.
They’d been graciously sent pictures of it by the otherwise unhelpful LAPD.
The real thing had been sent to the lab for DNA and fingerprint analysis, but Saffi severely doubted they would find anything of substance.
The entire thing felt like the workings of a cartoonish movie villain attempting to get their motivations out in the open before their ten-minute monologue came to a close.
But Andino and Taylor ate it right up because of course they did.
Hell, even Saffi was self-aware enough to realize how absurd it was to continue to suspect Dimple Kapoor now.
But it couldn’t be a coincidence that the moment Saffi approached Priyal Tiwari, Dimple Kapoor happened to take a nosedive off a two-story balcony.
Honestly, if all her suspicions were true, she couldn’t help respecting the woman a little.
Because even she was beginning to doubt herself.
Who would go to such lengths? Who had such presence of mind under pressure and such intrinsic theatricality to come up with as absurd a play as this?
Saffi found herself hoping that such a person existed simply because of how desperately she wanted to meet them.
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to sit down,” Taylor said.
“I’ll take a break when crime does,” Saffi said.
Taylor sighed. “I’ll go ask the charge nurse how much longer it’ll be.” Saffi gave him a grateful nod and the door shut softly behind him.
“So, what are you thinking?” Andino asked, his voice unnaturally loud in the small space.
“I’m thinking I’m tired and hungry.”
“About the case,” Andino said, clearly irritated. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one missing out on sleep.
“I’m sorry, was I not clear enough the first time?” Saffi asked. “I work better alone.”
“Alone—?” Andino’s face turned red. “Eli was the one who found this lead! I drove us here!”
The reminder of her own negligence stung. “And as much as I appreciate the help, I would’ve found my own way here eventually.”
“Would you have?” Andino challenged. “Or would another innocent have to die before you can accept that you’re not always the smartest person in every room?”
For a long moment, Saffi heard only her own heartbeat and the ticking of the clock.
“What,” Saffi said.
Andino visibly thought it over for a moment, but he’d never been able to help himself. “This is Phoenix all over again.”
He must’ve woken up with a death wish.
“Go ahead,” she said, gesturing for him to continue. “Finish that thought.”
She could see the way Andino’s biceps tensed where they were crossed over his chest. “I thought you’d changed, but clearly not.
All you care about is yourself. Being the first or the fastest or the best.” Before she could refute, he scoffed.
“The great Saffi Mirai Iyer has never been wrong about anything.” He paused, feigning surprise. “Oh, wait…”
Saffi didn’t try to reply right away, her mouth so dry she knew nothing would come out even if she did. Other people’s opinions had never meant anything to her—least of all Andino’s—so she was at a loss for why her chest constricted so painfully when she heard it.
Still, part of her had always wondered what they’d really thought of her after she’d left. Whether they’d blamed her for their old agency shutting down. Now she had her answer.
Saffi kept her face carefully neutral as she met Andino’s scrutiny.
She forced a swallow, relieved when her tongue no longer stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Whatever he felt brave enough to vocalize, she had long since learned how to trust herself again.
Oftentimes, she was the only person she could trust.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m here as a favor to you,” Saffi said through gritted teeth.
“Even with my mistakes as a cautionary tale, you were more than happy to rule the death an accident without properly looking into it. What would you have done if the waiter hadn’t been killed before you closed the case, huh?
That’s the kind of mistake that gets agencies shut down, in case you’ve forgotten.
You’d have put yourself and Taylor out of a job. Then what?”
Andino had no response for that, but his rage was similar to hers. It could not be diffused; it needed an outlet. And so it remained simmering under his skin.
“Fuck you,” he spat.
“You need me here,” she said. “Because you’re in over your head and you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
“You—” Andino began.
A nurse chose that moment to burst inside, chastising them for the noise.
They’d been raising their voices without even realizing it.
Taylor was on her heels, ready to appease her with his charm.
Andino’s shoulder knocked against Saffi’s as he marched right out of the waiting room, leaving the nurse even angrier in his wake.
Not that Saffi didn’t trust her gut, but there was a chance she was keeping Andino and Taylor at arm’s length because she was worried they’d immediately poke holes through her theories, giving weight to all of her resurfaced insecurities.
Maybe Kapoor truly was innocent, and this was nothing more than Saffi’s stubbornness rearing its ugly head.
Maybe it was the reminder of her last mistake hanging over her head that made it so necessary for her to be right now.
Maybe she was right. Maybe Kapoor was just as much a criminal mastermind as Saffi suspected.