Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
Sensing an opportunity, Andino began speaking rapidly, low enough that Dimple couldn’t hear.
“Saffi, listen to me. This isn’t like you.
You have a gun and the killer you’ve been chasing all year is right behind you.
I know you feel guilty for what happened to Mia.
This is your chance to make things right. ”
But Saffi hadn’t learned nothing from her conversation with her parents. She shook her head. “No. There’s no making things right.”
“Of course there is—what are you talking about?”
In all her years of knowing him, Saffi had never been able to get through to Andino.
But some part of her still wanted to try.
Maybe now that she was finally starting to understand what she really wanted—who she really was—it could be different.
“Five years ago, I left thinking I was doing the right thing. Not for myself, but for everyone else. And I’m so sick of it.
I’m so sick of living for other people when they wouldn’t do the same for me. ”
“Then don’t do it for anyone else,” Andino said, a tinge of desperation peeking through. “Do it because it’s the right thing to do!”
“Says who?”
“She’s killed people,” Andino said.
“So have I,” Saffi said. She almost glanced over at Tiwari’s lifeless body but stopped herself. “So have you.”
“She killed Mia!”
“You keep saying that as though her death was more punishable than Tiwari’s,” Saffi said.
Andino didn’t respond, which was an admission. To him, one innocent life meant more than another. It was a selfish sense of justice that was more similar to Dimple’s than he probably realized.
“If I let you go, what will you do?” Saffi asked.
“Don’t pretend like I’m a complete stranger,” Andino said. “You know what I’ll do. And you know why too.”
Of course Saffi knew. Andino would turn Dimple in for killing Martinez along with all of the evidence Saffi had stacked against her.
It was the same thing Saffi had done five years ago after finding out that the woman she’d put on death row had died needlessly.
But all that had resulted in was suffering on her end.
She’d done the right thing and had been punished for it too. The same would happen to Andino.
“There’s not enough to convict her,” Saffi said. “There is, however, enough to convict you.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Of course it was.
“You could help me,” Andino tried again. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” His eyes darted down to the gun in her hand and then back up, quick as a bullet. “Not yet.”
“I want to move on,” Saffi said softly. It was the first time she said it out loud. Her fingers curled tighter around the cool metal in her palm.
“So do I,” Andino said, now full-on pleading. “Why can’t we move on together?”
“Because I’m starting to think you’re the one holding me back,” Saffi snapped.
Andino’s face shuttered. “Wow,” he said, and there was enough emotion in it to drown her.
“I can’t believe that’s how you—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.
“You’re the one who invited a serial killer into the place Eli and I built together,” he said, shaking with barely restrained anger.
“And you don’t even care because we’ve always been disposable to you, haven’t we? ”
“No,” Saffi protested. “No, of course not.”
“But you think I’m holding you back?” It wasn’t a question, not really.
Saffi answered it anyway. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then kill her.”
“I can’t.”
“What happened to you?” Andino asked. “The Saffi I know would never let go of justice for anyone.”
“What is justice?” Saffi asked. “Letting a serial abuser walk free because he has enough money for bribes and enough friends in high places? Or is it letting someone guilty of manslaughter walk free because he has enough money to check into rehab and start a foundation? The truth is, you don’t know what justice is, Andino. And you don’t know me either.”
If he did, he would realize that Saffi wasn’t doing this for anyone else, nor was she doing this to hurt him. For once, she was doing something for herself.
“How could I possibly know you?” Andino asked. “You’ve been lying to me just as much as Dimple has. Has anything you’ve said since you’ve come back been true?”
Saffi opened her mouth to respond, but Andino cut her off. “You know what, don’t answer that. It’ll probably be another lie anyway.” He pressed his forehead into the barrel of the gun with so much force, Saffi had to take a step back. “Go ahead. Kill me. I’m done holding you back.”
“Andino,” her voice came out weak, the words getting stuck in her throat. “God, what the fuck? Since when do you have a death wish?”
“This is what you want, isn’t it?”
“No.” Her grip loosened on the gun. She pulled away, just a bit, and there was a red mark left behind on Andino’s forehead.
He tracked her movement. “I’m trying to help you, you idiot.
They’ll lock you up, you’ll never work as a PI ever again, and Andino and Taylor Private Eye will go down just like Stronghold did. Is that really what you want?”
But Saffi could tell from his blank expression that Andino hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
The gun was the only thing that had his attention.
She should’ve expected it—of course someone as stubborn as him would never accept defeat.
But he moved faster than she could predict, one arm outstretched, reaching for the weapon.
Without thinking, Saffi pulled the trigger.
She didn’t even hear the bang. One minute there was scuffling; the next, her ears were ringing.
Andino crumpled to the ground.
Red, pouring from his mouth. Convulsing. Then, quicker than the gunshot itself, it was over. Even holding the smoking gun, Saffi could hardly believe it.
Seconds passed. Minutes even. Then she was on her knees, clamoring over to him. Something warm and viscous soaked into her pants. His blood, Saffi realized. She tried calling Andino’s name and was met with no response. She pressed two fingers to his neck. Still warm, but no pulse.
Swallowing around the urge to vomit, Saffi pulled back, trembling from head to toe. She’d seen too many corpses to count, but this couldn’t compare.
This lifeless body belonged to the man who’d doodled palm trees onto the back of her birthday cards because he didn’t know how else to show he cared.
The one who, five years later, still remembered the ridiculous things she’d said while drunk.
For someone so stubborn, it didn’t make sense for him to go down so easily.
Saffi was acutely aware that she was hyperventilating, but somehow that knowledge only made it worse. Her lungs had stopped cooperating with her. The numbness from before consumed her whole, leaving her a deep, soul-crushing, bottomless pit of nothing.
This was murder. Whatever she’d thought she’d known before paled in comparison. Saffi had gotten her wish. She was one step closer to understanding Dimple Kapoor.