Chapter Twenty-Six
Saffi stood outside the party, watching as paramedics tended to Shyla Patel’s broken nose.
Twin streaks of blood were dried onto her cheeks.
On the other side of the grounds, Hector Olsen sat in handcuffs, unfocused as an officer read him his rights.
Andino was speaking to another cop some paces to her right.
The rest of the partygoers were either on their way home or eagerly watching from the other side of the police tape, trying discreetly to record.
Saffi had already confiscated several phones.
“It’s gotta be him, right?” Taylor asked from her left as he studied Hector Olsen. “His predisposed violence toward brown women leaked into his anger at being denied as the director for Insomnia.”
Saffi didn’t reply. Because if what she thought had happened was true, then Dimple Kapoor was a far worse woman than she had thought possible.
Considering Dimple’s history with abuse, though, Saffi found it hard to believe.
So had she been wrong all along? Was Olsen the true culprit?
Or did Saffi just not want to believe that Dimple Kapoor was capable of this level of carnage?
Violence perpetuated violence perpetuated violence.
Saffi’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she accepted the call, lifting it up to her ear. “Where are you?”
“Who’s that?” Taylor asked incredulously.
“Martinez,” Saffi replied. “The intern.”
He frowned. “Why is Mia calling you?”
“She’s on assignment for me.”
“What?” Taylor exclaimed.
Saffi ignored him, walking a few paces out of earshot. Taylor watched with suspicion. “I’m guessing you lost her?”
A missing Dimple could only foretell bad things. Either someone was dead or dying. Or being punched, apparently. One rarely played with fire without getting burned.
“No, actually,” Martinez’s voice was hushed and slightly out of breath, “I followed her.”
Saffi’s stomach dropped. “What? Where are you?”
“Around the time Hector punched Shyla, Dimple left the party. I followed her to this alleyway nearby. I think she’s getting changed. I’m going to see where she goes from here.”
“No—that’s not what I asked you to do,” Saffi said firmly. “Send me your location and go home.”
“But I saw her put something in Hector’s drink,” Martinez insisted. “She was the one who made that woman trip—that’s when she did it. I think she might be…I don’t know. But maybe I can find out.”
Come to think of it, Olsen did seem out of it and not just because he was drunk. But Shyla Patel was a cautionary tale. The last thing Saffi wanted was for another innocent girl to get caught in the crossfire.
“I said no,” Saffi said. “I’ll take it from here.”
There was a beat in which Saffi was sure she would disobey, but then she sighed deep and low. “Okay, you’re the boss.”
Relief crashed into Saffi like a train. “Let me know as soon as you’re home.” And the line went dead.
Great. Saffi hadn’t expected the girl to have such a talent when it came to tailing. She resisted the urge to rub her temples. The last thing she’d wanted was to place this burden on someone else. Especially someone so young.
As she returned to Taylor’s side, Saffi thought back to the crash from earlier, to the waiter who’d helped clean it up.
Then to when she had seen Dimple snatch a glass of Scotch from the same waiter and pawn it off on someone else.
All strange behavior that she couldn’t characterize until now.
It was clear that Dimple Kapoor was capable of far more than what people gave her credit for.
Saffi should’ve realized by now that backing Dimple into a corner never worked the way she expected it to.
Then again, the girl had seen Dimple drug Olsen. And she should be sending Saffi her location any minute now. Whatever Dimple was off doing, Saffi would be finding out.
As soon as Saffi returned, Taylor pulled her aside, his grip on her arm firm and unyielding. She shook herself free once they were alone.
“What?” she snapped.
“Why would you put Mia on assignment?” he asked. The hurt in his tone revealed what he really meant. Why didn’t you tell me?
Saffi rolled her eyes. “You and I would’ve killed for an opportunity like this when we were interns.”
“She could’ve been hurt!”
“All three of us were there.” Saffi frowned. “She was completely safe.”
“Shyla Patel wasn’t safe, was she?”
Saffi opened her mouth to argue but then paused.
Once again, her assumptions of Dimple Kapoor were clouding her judgment.
For some godforsaken reason, she had been under the impression that Dimple wouldn’t hurt someone like Martinez.
As though Dimple wouldn’t demolish anyone and anything that stood in her path.
Shyla was a prime example. This was exactly why Saffi’s father had taught her not to inject personal biases into investigations.
Another horrifying thought wormed its way into her mind. What if Dimple had been counting on Saffi to intercept Olsen? What if the real reason Shyla had gotten hurt was because Saffi had been distracted? She felt sick.
Again. She was doing this again. If she wasn’t careful, history would repeat itself and Saffi would be responsible for yet another innocent’s death.
Priyal. That was who Martinez reminded Saffi of.
“I didn’t think,” she admitted.
Taylor kept his stern disapproval fixed on her for another second before sighing and uncrossing his arms. “You’re right about one thing, though.
We absolutely would’ve killed for an opportunity like that as interns.
But you and I both know we wouldn’t have been ready.
” He placed a comforting hand on Saffi’s shoulder.
“She really looks up to you, you know? Even before you got here, she wouldn’t shut up about all the cases you solved while abroad. ”
Heat rose in Saffi’s cheeks. She shrugged off Taylor’s hand. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, she could use a mentor.”
Saffi froze. “You’d trust me with her?” Seconds ago, he’d been chiding her.
Taylor gave her a confused look. “You’re one of the only people I’d trust.”
He said it as though it was obvious. She felt embarrassed all of a sudden. That was when her phone chimed. The location of the alley, a much more pressing matter.
“Martinez says she’s on her way home,” Saffi relayed. “But there’s something I need to check out. Will you come with me?” She hoped he wouldn’t ask any further questions.
Taylor, like he always did, seemed to sense that. “Sure.”
Martinez hadn’t been wrong, the alleyway wasn’t more than a ten-minute walk from Olsen’s mansion and they made the trip in five by running straight there.
But when they arrived, adrenaline running high, there was nobody and nothing in sight.
Saffi scanned for moving cars and found none, upturned every piece of trash and cardboard and found not even a strand of brown hair.
“Some of these houses might have cameras,” Taylor tried.
Saffi scoffed. “Unlikely any of them see as far as the alley.” These celebrities had entire jungles for backyards; it was probably difficult enough for their cameras to cover the full extent of their property.
“It doesn’t hurt to check.”
But Taylor had no idea the golden opportunity that had slipped from their fingers.
If only Saffi had been paying as close attention to Dimple Kapoor as Martinez had been.
But no, that in itself was the problem. The only reason she’d managed to get so close was because Dimple had been focused on Saffi.
They were held prisoner in each other’s orbit.
Saffi had effectively shot herself in the foot.
Her phone chimed again, this time with a message confirming that Martinez had made it home. She clutched it tight, close to her chest. At least her intern was safe.