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)
“So there was tension about your marriage?” A question asked in a voice so gentle that it almost slipped past my guard. Almost.
“Diya’s the baby of the family. They couldn’t stay mad at her.” The tremor in my voice was real, my love for Diya the purest thing I’d ever felt. “Especially after we agreed to the Hindu ceremony.” I squeezed my eyes tight, my breath feeling as if it was stuck in my lungs.
“How did you feel about not being able to call her your wife in public?”
“Diya’s an event planner.” Never happier than when she was bringing a client’s vision to life, whether that was a sixtieth birthday party or a corporate awards night. “She was buzzing to plan the wedding of her dreams.” Her parents had all but written her a blank check. “I was happy to go along with it for her—the only thing I cared about was that she was mine.”
I held the detective’s cool gray eyes. “Sarita and Rajesh hired out this fancy hotel ballroom for the engagement party, and Shumi’s a good seamstress—she managed to turn Diya’s store-bought outfit into a custom fit when Diya couldn’t get an alteration appointment at short notice.” Peacock blue and vibrant green, with splashes of pink and details in gold, the lehenga had made Diya appear a goddess.
Diya’s dad and brother and I had worn black sherwani suits with their narrow mandarin collars and tunic-style tops, while her mother had donned an elegant sari of gold silk. Shumi, meanwhile, had dressed up in a pink lehenga with gold detailing. The two best friends had coordinated the entire family’s outfits, so that the photos would be perfect.
Shumi and Bobby had gifted Diya a delicate hair decoration of twenty-two-karat gold that ran along her part, with the small pendant sitting just below the top of her forehead. Diya had told me it was called a maang tikka. Her earrings and bangles had been gifts from her parents, with more jewelry to come prior to the wedding.
“An Indian bride must wear her weight in gold or the foundations of her family will crumble,” Diya had joked as she showed me the heavy gold bangles, but her smile had been soft with affection. “My mother wore these at her own wedding.”
A tender look aimed at me. “One day, our daughter might wear these.”
“It was a great night,” I said, wanting only to see her again, hold her again; she was the repository of all my dreams, all my hopes. “The party went on past midnight—everyone was in a wonderful mood.”
“Her brother, too?” A pointed question. “What did he think of you eloping with his sister?”
“He wasn’t a fan at first,” I said, because there was no point in lying to the cops about something they could easily disprove. “But last night he invited me to join him and his friends on a fishing trip.” I’d been so relieved at the sign that he was warming up to me that saying no hadn’t been an option, even though the idea of hooking a fish on a line made me vaguely uneasy.
My idea of time on boats was sipping champagne on a yacht.
“He was laughing and saying we’d shoot the shit, drink beers, and buy snapper from the fish shop on the way home and pretend we’d caught it. Shit. Fuck.” I slid down the wall to sit with my hands thrust into my hair. “We were all so happy. I don’t understand.”
The detective’s expression seemed to soften as she looked down at me. “While we’ll have more concrete details once the SOCOs can get in, right now it’s possible that one of the three missing family members wasn’t in the house at the time of the fire.
“Since both the doctors had patients they were monitoring and are known to answer their phones at all hours, there’s a high likelihood that the missing member is Bobby Prasad. But we won’t be able to confirm identities or the number of deceased for some time. There was significant damage and the rubble covers a wide area.”
Nausea was a watery taste in my mouth.
That violent boom of sound. The smoke so black and vicious.
The forensic team might have only bone fragments with which to work.
Chapter 8
Private notes: Detective Callum Baxter (LAPD)
Date: Dec 3
Time: 11:17
Search on Tavish Advani brought up an upscale address on Venice Beach. It also brought up his connection to Jocelyn Wai and, more specifically, to her death—have to say, I did not see that coming. Neither did Perez. We both thought Jason Musgrave was just throwing out wild accusations due to grief, but man might be onto something.
Have left a message for Detective Gina Garcia, lead on the Wai case.
Chapter 9
“I’m Detective Senior Sergeant Rose Ackerson,” the cop said at last. “And this is my colleague Constable Jeffrey Wong.”