“I’ve a feeling that once we step inside, we’re not walking out without answers,” Viraj mutters, again.
I flex my shoulders, a muscle ticking in my jaw. “You better be right. Because I’m done walking out of places empty-handed.”
“The only way to find out is to go in,” he says, pushing his door open and stepping out of the car.
I follow suit, hoping like hell this isn’t just another goddamn shot in the dark.
We head straight for the entrance. The moment we step inside, the scent of rose oil and fresh fabric hits me.
I pause near the door, my eyes taking in the upscale space. Sleek gold rods line the walls, each holding designer clothes in soft, muted pastels. Elegant, oversized pots sit on the polished floor, and a tall mirror gleams under the soft lighting. Everything about the place screams quiet luxury.
My gaze sweeps across the room until it lands on Maya, deep in conversation with a customer. It’s just her, the woman beside her, and a saleslady quietly rearranging the clothes on a nearby rack.
As if sensing my eyes on her, she lifts her gaze to meet mine. And I catch it. That flicker of recognition, followed by a flash of panic. But it’s gone just as fast. She straightens and pulls her shoulders back, masking it all behind a calm, practised smile like nothing ever slipped.
Holding her gaze, I start walking towards her, Viraj matching my stride. We stop just a few feet away from her. She’s dressed in a sleeveless, fitted blue dress. Designer, no doubt. But that’s not what grabs my attention. It’s the marks on her neck. Faint, ugly, shaped like fingers.
Her hand flies up instinctively, her fingers curling around her throat to hide them.Too late.
“We need to talk,” I say, getting straight to the point.
Maya nods, while the older woman, probably her customer, in her mid-fifties, glances at me and Viraj, her brows arching slightly in quiet curiosity.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dixit, but I need to step away for a moment. I’ll have my saleslady assist you,” Maya says, drawing the older woman’s attention back to her.
Mrs. Dixit gives a polite nod. “Of course, dear. Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Maya says to her, then turns to the young saleslady. “Take over, Shanti. I’ll be in my office.” Then she looks at me and Viraj. “Let’s go.”
I give a short nod and fall into step beside her, Viraj right behind as we trail after her through the boutique.
She walks into a small, neatly arranged office. Viraj shuts the door behind us as she turns to face us, positioning herself beside her desk.
“What can I do for you?”
“Deepak,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest.
Her brows pull together. “What about him?”
“Deepak is a suspect in an ongoing investigation.” I don’t give her more than that. I want her to fill in the blanks herself. “And you’ve been too close to him not to know something.”
I immediately know that I’ve struck a nerve, because the color drains from her face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, her voice faltering.
“Try again, Maya. That’s a weak start,” Viraj says from behind me.
But I don’t look at him. My eyes stay locked on hers as I step forward, stopping just a few feet away. “You’ve got two options. Cooperate, and tell us what you know. Or we’ll dig out the truth out ourselves. And if it comes to that, trust me, it won’t be pretty. It just might drag your name through every bit of dirt Deepak left behind.”
She looks away, fidgeting with her fingers, then glances back at me.
“He… he has a temper,” she murmurs. “He gets angry sometimes. Says things he doesn’t mean.”
“And does things he doesn’t mean too?” I press, pointing my finger at her neck. “The bruises on your neck, that’s part of his anger, isn’t it?”
She flinches, but nods.
“He’s not who people think he is.” Her voice is barely above a whisper as her shoulders sag. “He’s a monster when he loses control. He never used to be this way, or maybe I just didn’t see it.” Tears brim in her eyes, but she blinks them away. “Even the miscarriage I had… it was because of him. He shoved me during a fight. I lost my balance and hit the side of the table.”
