Hemi pulled into his drive, his headlights cutting through the falling gloom.

 

* * *

 

I couldn’t stop thinking of the rage that had twisted up his face when he spoke of my mother. Hemi Henare, model citizen and devoted husband, was fully capable of murder. And if my mother had been intoxicated and injured—because I wasn’t sure I believed my father when he said it had been a flesh wound—then she’d have been an easy target.

Just nudge her into the passenger seat, get in the driver’s seat, and go.

Another movement. Adrian, coming out of the Dixons’ home with a container of something in hand. He was grinning as he spoke to Paul, who stood in the doorway. The ex-rocker loved baking and had probably given Adrian cookies. I wondered if the fitness fanatic would eat them, or if he’d pawn them off. With everything else, I’d almost forgotten about him.

I still didn’t know how he’d afforded his gym.

I could’ve asked my father to use his contacts to find out, but I had no desire to be indebted to Ishaan Rai in any way, shape, or form.

Adrian moved with the fluid athleticism of a man who’d always been fit. He’d have had no trouble running back to retrieve his vehicle if he was the one who’d murdered my mother—and even had the gates been shut, I was guessing Adrian had a remote; the man had too many connections in the Cul-de-Sac not to have managed to finagle that. Today, his sporty SUV passed Isaac’s car on the way out.

My brain skittered again, reminding me that I still hadn’t seen Phil.

Where was Isaac’s father? Had he seen something that night? Was that why Isaac was keeping him prisoner?

A knock on the open door of my room. “Aarav? You’ll come down for dinner?”

I went to say yes to Shanti when I felt a throb at the back of my head, along with the sudden taste of metal in my mouth. “I might lie down for a while. Headache.”

Teeth sinking into her lower lip, she rubbed her hands together. “Should I call the doctor?”

“No. I’ll be fine after a nap.”

The pain pressed down on the back of my head as the world shimmered. I barely heard Shanti say something in her gentle voice before she pulled the door shut. Stumbling to my bed, I lay down . . . and the lights went out.

55


I woke to an aching shoulder and the awareness of discomfort.

Groaning, I opened my eyes. My mouth felt fuzzy and dry, my eyes crusty. I grabbed the bottle of water on the bedside table and slugged down half of it before I tried to look at my phone. It was 10 p.m. I’d slept for four hours straight.

Not normal.

But the blinking lights were gone from in front of my eyes, and my head felt piercingly clear. Getting up, I used the bathroom, then turned on the lights but didn’t bother to close the curtains.

The first thing I did was go hunting for food. I was starving. I could hear the TV from the secondary lounge Shanti used to watch her soap operas, and I tried to walk as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her. A covered plate sat on the kitchen counter, along with extra food Shanti hadn’t yet put away in the fridge.

She’d made tandoori roast chicken, with a side of potatoes and sautéed vegetables. Of course, since it was Shanti, she’d added paprika and who knew what else to the veges, and the potatoes were skillet-fried with onions and chili peppers.

Mouth watering, I piled more onto my plate before heating it up.

Rather than risking a trip upstairs, I sat at the counter and chowed down. When I heard light feet behind me, I smiled. “Busted.”

My little sister grinned before whispering, “Where’s Mum?”

“In her lounge.”

Tiptoeing to the cookie jar, Pari took out two chocolate-chip raisin cookies.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I’m reading a really good book.”

Painful as it was to admit, the genetic love for reading seemed to have come via the Rai side of the family. “Yeah? What’s it about?”

She told me as she poured milk into a mug, then heated it up in the microwave. “Don’t tell Mum you saw me,” she said as she readied herself to head back to her room.

“See who?” I looked around the kitchen. “All I see is an empty kitchen.”

We both heard the garage door start to rise.

“Go,” I said to my sister, whose smile was already fading. “Make sure you hide your torch under the blankets.” It was highly unlikely our father would check up on her, but that was no reason to chance ruining her night. “Tell me the end of the book tomorrow.”

Another grin before she moved off.

I put my head down and focused on finishing my food. All I needed right now, while things were still so confused in my head, was to come face-to-face with my father. Fate took mercy on me. He went straight to his bedroom, probably to change.

Good, that meant I could have dessert in peace. I’d spotted kheer in one of the dishes of leftovers. Shanti had put plump raisins and slices of almond in the sweet rice pudding, and I cleaned out the bowl before heading upstairs.

Only then did I realize I’d forgotten to grab a Coke. I’d just have to tough it out.

I should’ve had a bar fridge put in my private living area, but it was too late for that now—I wasn’t planning on hanging around here much longer. If need be, I’d hire a nurse, make them sign a nondisclosure agreement, and have them watch me to ensure I didn’t do something stupid, like set my apartment on fire.

Today, however, my brain felt sharp as a razor.

But I had nowhere to go, no leads to follow. Maybe I’d do a good deed and scout around Isaac’s property. It was weird his father had disappeared. But Isaac stayed up half the night, so my excursion would have to wait.