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)
Still haven’t found anyone he dated between or before Jocelyn Wai and Virna Musgrave, but I have managed to track down a college friend of his. Maybe Emilio Vasquez can shed some light on our enigma of a person of interest.
Chapter 17
Even though I’d never met Shumi’s family, I would’ve recognized her mother at first glance—she was an older version of Shumi: the same rounded face, the same soft lips and big doe eyes that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a fifties pinup. Not much difference in their heights, either. Both around five four, with bodies that tended toward curves.
No swollen eyes for Mrs. Kumar, no dried tear tracks, but that was likely because she was holding herself so stiffly that she was permitting nothing to escape. I knew what that felt like—and I knew the crash that would come when she released her anguish at last.
The young man with her, by contrast, had eyes feathered with burst red vessels behind his spectacles, his nose rubbed raw from all the times he’d wiped it.
Shumi’s father was a study in grim lines. If not for the circumstances, I’d have pegged him as a beleaguered executive—he had the silvered hair, his neatly trimmed mustache the same shade, and was a short and somewhat stocky man. He wore a suit, as if he’d dressed on autopilot for work.
It was wrinkled from the flights.
“This is Dr. Chen,” I said when they reached us. “I’m Tavish.”
A nod of acknowledgment from the older man before he looked at the doctor. “Our daughter?”
“Please follow me.” He spoke to the family as they walked, while I trailed behind. “Shumi suffered four deep stab wounds alongside three more minor ones.” He waited as if to see if they wanted a detailed breakdown of her injuries as I had with Diya, but when no one spoke, he said, “It’s a miracle she’s alive—your daughter has a strong spirit.”
“She always was stubborn,” Shumi’s mother said, her voice crisp.
“It’ll serve her well in this fight.” The doctor brought them to a stop in front of Shumi’s bed in the overflow unit. “I’ll allow all three of you to visit with her today, but please keep it to one or two people at a time going forward. And maintain calm—I know you’re emotional, but you won’t help her by wailing and weeping.”
“We won’t startle her,” Shumi’s father promised, then looked at me. “You’ll stay? We’ll talk after.”
“Of course.” I propped up the wall nearby while the three of them visited Shumi. I could hear sniffles but that was about the loudest sound aside from the doctor’s retreating footsteps as he returned to his rounds.
The nurses didn’t interrupt the family until it was time to change one of Shumi’s drips.
All three stepped away to join me.
“You should eat and get some sleep,” I said, leaning on what I’d been told. “She’s going to rely on you when she wakes—this is the time for you to rest, so you’re strong for when she needs you.”
Shumi’s mother gave a small nod. “He’s right. We can’t get sick ourselves.” Her voice was calm, her words clipped. “Do you know where we could stay? We didn’t book anything.”
As I told them about the motel, I hoped I wasn’t anywhere near her vicinity when she cracked at last—because it would not be pretty. “Place is clean and modern, and there’s food delivery from a variety of restaurants. Looks like it’s mostly used by families in town to see the mud pools. I can take you—I have a car borrowed from a neighbor.”
That was when I realized. “Where’s your luggage?”
“A lady at reception said she’d store it when we told her why we were here,” Shumi’s brother, Ajay, said in a quiet voice. “I guess everyone knows about the fire and everything.”
“Yes.” It wasn’t every day New Zealand woke up to the news of the mass murder—and attempted murder—of an entire family.
My stomach lurched.
My name was going to end up in the articles. It was pure blind luck it hadn’t to this point. Fuck.
* * *
—
It was only after Shumi’s family had checked into the motel and I’d helped Ajay carry their luggage over to their family suite that I said, “Do any of you know anyone named Annie?” It was a long shot, since they were in-laws, rather than part of the immediate Prasad family—I wasn’t surprised when they frowned and gave me confused looks.
“No, is that a friend of Diya’s you want to contact?” Shumi’s mother asked. “You should get Ajay to help you look online. He’s very clever with the computer.” A fond smile on her face, she patted her son on the arm.
Who surprised me by saying “Actually, I might have seen an Annie on Shumi’s friends list. Let me have a look.” The clean-cut male pushed up his spectacles. “Mum, Dad, you go in and shower. I’ll be right in.”