“So we’re going to Beverly Hills?”
Taylor shook his head. “We’ll get the police report for that. Right now we’re going to the hospital.”
Saffi was confused for half a second before she caught on, heart thumping in anticipation. “The victim survived?”
—
Hospital waiting rooms,despite their best efforts, were never not the most depressing places on the planet. The walls were white, the floors gray with the occasional speck of color to give the illusion of life. The chairs lining the walls were always a simple neutral color, but somehow exceptionally comfortable. Posters either raved about what fun it was to wash your hands and eat your veggies or gave detailed depictions of various bodily systems that could put even Saffi to sleep.
Something about this made her skin crawl and it wasn’t just the environment. Saffi had a high tolerance for fucked-up shit considering her line of work, but even she’d never come across something so wrong. Something so confusing it spun her mind in circles.
When they’d arrived at the hospital, it wasn’t supposed to be Dimple Kapoor bleeding out in one of the patient rooms. It wasn’t supposed to have been her who’d fallen two stories from the balcony of yet another celebrity Beverly Hills rager. More than anything, Saffi was horrified that she’d been the last to know.
Despite aching lethargy and a pounding migraine, she paced as she awaited her turn to visit the woman in question, fingers tapping a staccato beat against her biceps. The victim. Saffi shuddered.VictimandDimple Kapoordidn’t belong in the same sentence.
The message left behind by the killer had been even more subverting. A weathered promotional poster for theInsomniamovie with Dimple Kapoor’s face marked out in red. On the back was a printed note that read:Two down.They’d been graciously sent pictures of it by the otherwise unhelpful LAPD. The real thing had been sent to the lab for DNA and fingerprint analysis, but Saffi severely doubted they would find anything of substance.
The entire thing felt like the workings of a cartoonish movie villain attempting to get their motivations out in the open before their ten-minute monologue came to a close. But Andino and Taylor ate it right up because of course they did. Hell, even Saffi was self-aware enough to realize how absurd it was to continue to suspect Dimple Kapoor now. But it couldn’t be a coincidence that the moment Saffi approached Priyal Tiwari, Dimple Kapoor happened to take a nosedive off a two-story balcony.
Honestly, if all her suspicions were true, she couldn’t help respecting the woman a little. Because even she was beginning to doubt herself. Who would go to such lengths? Who had such presence of mind under pressure and such intrinsic theatricality to come up with as absurd a play as this? Saffi found herself hoping that such a person existed simply because of how desperately she wanted to meet them.
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to sit down,” Taylor said.
“I’ll take a break when crime does,” Saffi said.
Taylor sighed. “I’ll go ask the charge nurse how much longer it’ll be.” Saffi gave him a grateful nod and the door shut softly behind him.
“So, what are you thinking?” Andino asked, his voice unnaturally loud in the small space.
“I’m thinking I’m tired and hungry.”
“About the case,” Andino said, clearly irritated. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one missing out on sleep.
“I’m sorry, was I not clear enough the first time?” Saffi asked. “I work better alone.”
“Alone—?” Andino’s face turned red. “Eli was the one who found this lead! I drove us here!”
The reminder of her own negligence stung. “And as much as I appreciate the help, I would’ve found my own way here eventually.”
“Would you have?” Andino challenged. “Or would another innocent have to die before you can accept that you’re not always the smartest person in every room?”
For a long moment, Saffi heard only her own heartbeat and the ticking of the clock.
“What,” Saffi said.
Andino visibly thought it over for a moment, but he’d never been able to help himself. “This is Phoenix all over again.”
He must’ve woken up with a death wish.
“Go ahead,” she said, gesturing for him to continue. “Finish that thought.”
She could see the way Andino’s biceps tensed where they were crossed over his chest. “I thought you’d changed, but clearly not. All you care about is yourself. Being the first or the fastest or the best.” Before she could refute, he scoffed. “The great Saffi Mirai Iyer has never been wrong about anything.” He paused, feigning surprise. “Oh, wait…”
Saffi didn’t try to reply right away, her mouth so dry she knew nothing would come out even if she did. Other people’s opinions had never meant anything to her—least of all Andino’s—so she was at a loss for why her chest constricted so painfully when she heardit.
Still, part of her had always wondered what they’d really thought of her after she’d left. Whether they’d blamed her for their old agency shutting down. Now she had her answer.
Saffi kept her face carefully neutral as she met Andino’s scrutiny. She forced a swallow, relieved when her tongue no longer stuck to the roof of her mouth. Whatever he felt brave enough to vocalize, she had long since learned how to trust herself again. Oftentimes, she was the only person she could trust.
