“Yes.” Her smile brightened her whole face. “You’re here, not . . . far away.”

The knots in my back melted. “Thank you.”

“Go see Pari. I’ll bring up your snacks.” An intent look. “You’re a good brother, Aarav. Thank you for never making her feel lesser, even though you’re the elder son.”

I never knew what to say to patriarchal shit like that, so I just smiled and headed upstairs to the corner of the house opposite my suite. My sister had a single room because Shanti didn’t believe in spoiling a small child with an expansive suite. But that room was full of white and pink with splashes of Pari’s favorite yellow, a collection of stuffed animals lined up neatly on her bed. She was coloring at her desk when I entered.

“Bhaiya, you’re walking better!”

Only then did I realize I’d been putting more weight on my injured foot. “Maybe I can get this boot off soon and actually wash my leg.”

“Ew.” She screwed up her nose, but smiled as I took a seat on the edge of her bed; her duvet cover was a ruffled pink printed with woodland creatures.

“You want to talk about last night?” I asked. “Pretty scary time.”

Shanti came in halfway through our talk with Coke for me, and a hot cocoa for Pari, as well as the samosas, but then left us alone. It was as I was finishing off my second samosa that our conversation wandered onto other subjects.

School. Pari’s favorite band. Mia’s birthday.

“I’m not sad,” Pari reassured me. “About the sleepover. I know it’s for big girls, and Mia’s gonna come have cake with me. Mum helped me choose a present for her.” She took a sip of cocoa before making a hopeful face. “Do you think I can have a sleepover when I’m sixteen?”

“Don’t see why not.”

Leaving her to her coloring twenty minutes later, I was on my way to my room when Shanti called up. “Aarav! The police have come.”

I got myself down the stairs to find Regan and Neri waiting in the hallway, while Shanti hovered.

“If we could have some of your time,” Regan began, the pockmarks on his skin highlighted by the small chandelier that lit this part of the house.

“Sure. You want to sit down?”

“Actually, we’d prefer it if you accompanied us to the station.”

51

I ignored Shanti’s gasp.

“Seriously?”

“It’d be good to get your statement on record.”

Horse. Shit. Cops thought they had something, and wanted to go at me on their own turf. But I also wanted to know what they had. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

No outward reaction, but I wondered if they’d made a personal appearance in order to gauge my reaction to being asked to come in. Once in my sedan, I contacted the lawyer I used for conveyancing and other civil stuff.

I had Wendy’s private after-hours number because I was a multimillion-dollar client.

After quickly bringing her up to speed, I said, “I need a good criminal lawyer to meet me at the station.” While I wanted information, I wasn’t about to hang myself out to dry.

Especially with a malfunctioning brain.

“Veda Fitzpatrick is one of the best,” Wendy pointed out.

My gaze moved in the direction of Brett and Veda’s house, though I couldn’t see anything from this position. “No, not her. Find someone else.”

Regan and Neri were still waiting when I started up my engine and backed out of the drive. Falling in behind them, I drove exactly at the legal speed limit or a few kilometers lower. I wanted to give the lawyer plenty of time to arrive ahead of me.

She was waiting in reception, a petite woman wearing a coat of fine black wool over a little black dress she’d paired with a string of pearls. “Mr. Rai.” She held out her hand. “I’m Justina Cheung. Wendy Michaels sends her regards.”

“Sorry to interrupt your night.”

When she said, “I’m used to it,” I wondered who she usually represented.

“Detective Regan, Constable Neri, Ms. Cheung is my lawyer.”

“We’re well acquainted.” Regan gave a short nod in her direction before returning his attention to me. “You’re not under arrest.” His pale eyes flickered. “This is a friendly conversation.”

I pulled out my most charming smile. “Put it down to paranoia induced by watching too many crime shows where some poor schmuck gets life for simply being an idiot. So, can we sit somewhere?”

“Follow me.”

We ended up in a room clearly set up for interrogations, complete with bare concrete walls and a one-way mirror. After turning on the recording equipment, Regan identified everyone for posterity, then asked me to tell him what I remembered from that night ten years ago that had changed my life forever.

I began the narrative from when my parents first arrived home, went from there.

“Nothing else to add?” Regan said when I eventually came to a halt.

“That’s what I remember.” I was careful to use the right words, words that couldn’t come back to bite me.

“I’d like to show you something.” Opening a file Neri had brought into the room after ducking out for a minute, he retrieved something. “Do you know what this is?”

I frowned. “X-ray.”

“More specifically, it’s an X-ray of your left tibia.”

“From after my car accident?”

“No, this was taken while you were a minor.” He pointed to a section on the image. “This evidences a major fracture that would’ve put you in a cast for months.”