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)
In pain, slowly losing control of God only knew what function.
Or…“Tavish, my sweet boy, I need you to do something for me.”
Chapter 33
A rattle from inside Kamal’s house that felt like a drum in my head, the world too loud, too bright, the words the older man had spoken bile in my throat.
It wasn’t the boy.
Yellow hair and blue eyes…
…her dress all splattered with blood.
A thin and wrinkled woman in a loose floral dress followed the noise onto the porch. “You need to take your medicine.” She shoved a bottle into Kamal’s hand with those words spoken in Hindi, her tongue as sharp as the edge of a knife.
Grunting, Kamal said, “Fine, I’ll get the water.”
My mind was still roaring when the woman spoke after her husband was gone. “Only English?” The question was hard and flat.
I somehow managed to comprehend what she wanted to know, and found the right words to string together in my grandparents’ mother tongue. “No. I…understand Hindi. Speaking…not…so…” I just shook my head at the end.
That seemed to be enough for her, however, because she began to speak in rapid-fire Hindi it took all my concentration to follow. “I never thought it was Diya beti—or that it was about a doll. She used to play for hours with Ani, shared all her toys. Diya loved Ani.” She sniffed. “That brother of hers, now, he was a bully. No surprise after the way his own father bullied him.”
I stared at her, my focus snapping back into brilliant color. “You…” Halting, I fought to find the right words. “You…think…Bobby…hurt Ani?”
“Not my place to say. I’m not the police officer.” She picked up the ashtray and threw the butts into a little trash can under the table.
“Please,” I said.
Rubbing her back, she rose. “I’m just saying Diya beti didn’t talk too well even at five. They wouldn’t take her at the school even when they took other children her age, said she had to start talking properly first. But Bobby sahib, oh, he could talk and talk—and that Shumi, she thought he was better than a movie star.”
A roll of her eyes. “The girl would’ve parroted anything Bobby told her to say. And I know my husband likes to talk about the blood on Diya’s dress, but the poor child could’ve just been standing there when it happened. Or the boy could’ve put it on her on purpose. He was vicious even back then, and Diya didn’t talk at all for days and days after.”
“Meera!” A yell from inside the house as the tractor trundled over to this side of the field. “I can’t find the other pills!”
The woman turned on her heel but pinned me with her gaze before stepping inside. “They’ll find out it was that Bobby who killed his family. They haven’t found his body, have they? That’s what it said on the news. Only signs of two people in the doctors’ house. And the boy was so angry on the inside. Poor baby Ani just got in his way and he scared Diya into staying quiet.”
She waved her hand at me. “You go now. Kamal will sleep again after his pills. Come later if you want, but he didn’t keep any papers if that’s what you’re after. Just what’s in his head, and the stubborn old goat won’t budge from the idea that it was Diya who did it.”
I rose shakily to my feet.
Was that it?
Bobby had lost it again?
Was that what Diya had been trying to tell me? That he’d done the same thing to the family that he’d done to Ani all those years ago?
Just lost it, gone psychotic.
I’d never seen the other man act the bully, but then I’d only known him a matter of weeks. Anyone could put on a mask for that long.
“Hello!” Yash called out from the seat of the tractor he’d brought to a standstill parallel to the road. “Come to see my father?” His biceps pushed against his black T-shirt, his beard short and neatly trimmed, and his smile friendly enough. “He’s in a good mood, isn’t he?” An amused laugh.
Shoving my brain back into gear, I walked over to the edge of the field so we could speak without shouting. “I’m Tavish, Diya’s fiancé.”
“Oh.” His smile faded into somber quiet as he leaned forward on the steering wheel before flowing from his first language into what was most comfortable for me. “How are they? Diya and Shumi?”
I folded my arms. “In the ICU.” It was all I could say and even that came out gritty and painful.
Dark eyes pinched at the corners, Yash just gave a clipped nod. “Cops have any idea who did it?”
“No, but your mother seems to think it was Bobby.” No filter, my brain in shock.
“Yeah, Amma might be right.” A vein pulsed at his temple. “We were in school together—Bobby and me—when they lived here.” Lifting his left arm, he showed me a small scar on his inner forearm. “He did that. Cut me with a sharp rock when I wouldn’t give him some jalebi Amma had got me from the market.”