Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“The rest of the family?” I asked before they could say anything. “Did anyone else—”
“Let’s move a little farther down for privacy,” the woman said, and this close, I could see both the fine wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, and the way the suit fit her. Mid-fifties, but fit and toned. Probably a runner, given the type of sports watch she wore on her left wrist.
Once we were far enough from the waiting area that no one could overhear us, she said, “I’m sorry, but the only survivors we’ve located are Diya and Shumi Prasad. Do I have it correct that Diya is your fiancée and Shumi her sister-in-law?”
I shook my head, the movement jerky. My bones didn’t seem connected, all fluid and out of sync. “Diya’s my wife. We eloped. Vegas wedding. Elvis presiding.” It came out in staccato pieces, snapshots of the night that had changed my life forever.
Garish plastic flowers, diamante-studded white leather, a grinning middle-aged man who swiveled his hips to the tinny music piped through the sound system…and Diya laughing as she clutched a bouquet of real flowers. We’d run out under a rain of rose petals for which I’d paid a premium, pieces of floral-scented heaven that Diya had picked out of my hair later.
“I apologize.” A tiny frown between her eyebrows, the detective made a note in the small spiral-bound notebook she’d pulled from her jacket pocket.
“Who…” I coughed, cleared my throat. “Who else was in the house?” It was possible that one of Diya’s parents had been called to the hospital or their clinic, or that Bobby had dropped Shumi off and…what?
His SUV had been there.
If he’d gone for a walk around the lake, he’d have seen the fire, come running.
I was reaching, grasping for any hint of hope.
The fine lines at the corners of the detective’s eyes deepened to tiny valleys. “It’s hard to tell due to the explosion. Do you know if there were accelerants in the house? Gas bottles for the barbecue?”
“What?” I blinked. “No, I—” A sudden memory flash, of something Diya’s father had said that morning. “Maybe fuel for the boat? I think Diya’s dad said he’d asked Bobby to pick some up when he next came over—it’d usually be stored in the boathouse, I think, but could be Bobby just left it in the house or on the patio when they arrived?”
“Who’s Bobby?”
Another snag in the turntable of my brain, another long pause as I dug up the information. “Diya’s brother. Everyone calls him Bobby.” I hadn’t even known it wasn’t his real name until the second time I’d met him. “His legal name is Vihaan. I don’t know where ‘Bobby’ comes from.” Probably some childhood thing no one had thought to explain to me.
The cop made another note before taking a deep breath. “It isn’t safe for the scene-of-crime officers to go in yet,” she said. “The fire was significant and the fire crews want to be certain there aren’t any lingering hot spots.” She exhaled. “However, they are fairly certain they’ve come across the remains of at least two individuals.”
Ice over my skin, I staggered against the wall, one hand braced on the cold surface. Which two? “Did you check with the hospital? Both of Diya’s parents work as doctors here sometimes, even though they have their own clinic.” I didn’t know the system in New Zealand, had no idea if my in-laws were regular consultants or were called in on special cases. “Doctors Rajesh and Sarita Prasad.”
“We’ve checked with the clinic, and the doctors would have been alerted by other staff by now if they were in the hospital—but I’ll double-check.” Another note in the little book. “Officers have also been to Bobby and Shumi Prasad’s residence and received no answer to their knocks—and there are no signs of anyone being home. Is it possible your brother-in-law wasn’t at the Lake Tarawera house?”
“No. His SUV was there and Shumi doesn’t drive.”
A raised eyebrow. “She has her full license and a late-model Audi registered under her name. Are you sure she doesn’t drive?”
“I—” Frowning, I shook my head. “No, I haven’t known her very long.” Only a month and a bit since I’d landed in the country, hardly enough time to draw firm conclusions about any of the Prasads. “Bobby always gives her lifts, so I assumed.”
“Did he mention plans to be anywhere today?”
“He didn’t say anything last night.”
“Last night?”
“The Prasads threw Diya and me an engagement party.” It seemed surreal now, the echoes of our laughter and the memories of the women’s fancy lehengas and gowns some Daliesque nightmare.
Broken, melting…burned.
“I thought you said you were already married.”
“Diya’s parents said that, culturally, our Vegas ceremony only counted as an engagement because we hadn’t yet had a religious ceremony. They asked us not to refer to each other as husband and wife in public for now.”