“But you wanted it, didn’t you? You wanted to prove yourself, so you cut some corners. And you might’ve closed the case faster than anyone else, but that just meant the wrong person got put on death row.”
“I didn’t cut any corners,” Saffi snapped. “The evidence I gathered was enough to convince an entire jury. It’s not my fault the investigator in charge was such a lazy sack of shit, he wanted to take credit for a rookie’s work without even fact-checking it!”
She was breathing heavily now. The outburst was supposed to wipe the smirk off Dimple’s face, to show her just how subpar her investigative skills were, but the smug look on her face was not promising. Saffi’s heartbeat stuttered in her chest, kicking into overdrive.
“So if you understand that none of it was your fault, then why do you keep punishing yourself for it?” Dimple asked.
She’d done this on purpose. Gotten the details wrong to infuriate Saffi into defending herself. Her father had been right—her emotions had gotten the better of her yet again.
With a sigh, Saffi pushed loose strands of hair away from her face. All of a sudden, she was too tired to feel anything but the buzzbeneath her skin. The main reason she kept her past hidden was for fear of how others might view her. It was different with Dimple, though. Saffi was more worried about how she might use the information against her, which was futile since she clearly already knew most ofit.
More than that, Dimple wasasking.Not even Andino and Taylor had cared to hear her version of the events. Saffi had always wished she could explain this to someone who’d understand or could give her a valuable perspective like her father. By some strange twist of fate, maybe Dimple could be that person.
“I did kill someone,” Saffi said. The words came out like sandpaper, but Dimple didn’t so much as blink. “An innocent woman. A mother.”
Saffi’s arguments with Andino had reached a breaking point around that time. They were both so competitive and eager to please—to be seen as equals in the judgment of the senior investigators. Only Taylor had been smart enough to realize that it would never happen. Saffi had no doubt that leaving the agency behind to start their own had been his idea.
“Due to the nature of the crime, and the fact that the victims’ families had more than enough money and resources to throw around, her execution had been expedited. It wasn’t until months later, after she’d already been killed, that I looked into it again and realized how wrong I was,” Saffi continued. She could still remember the way her stomach had dropped. “I went to my supervisor with the new information, but he forbade me from telling anyone. He’d taken all the credit for the case, so he would get all the backlash too. I couldn’t live with myself, though, so I reported the miscarriage of justice and, like a coward, I ran. Stronghold suffered a major hit to its reputation and shut down. I was never supposed to come back.”
Dimple hummed. “You had the wrong suspect, but Atlas and Eli—their theory ended up being right?”
“And Andino’s never let me live it down.” Not that she needed the reminder. “Don’t be fooled, though. It was our first murder investigation and none of us had any idea what we were doing. I’ve spent thelast five years learning everything I could so I’d never make the same mistake again.”
“Is that why you work so much, then?” Dimple asked thoughtfully. “Because you’re trying to make up for what happened?”
Saffi could’ve laughed. “No. There’s nothing I can do to change the past. An innocent woman lost her life because of me—a child lost a mother. I can’t reverse that.”
Saffi’s father was possibly the only person in the world capable of giving her the answers she needed. How to repent, how to move on. When it came to crime and punishment, he always had a solution.
“Why, then?” Dimple asked.
Saffi didn’t have an answer. Maybe at some point in her life, she’d had one, but it had been gradually leached from her since the day she started running.
“I see,” Dimple said.
Saffi’s first instinct was to retaliate. There was no way in hell she understood. But then again, of everyone, maybe Dimple Kapoor was the only person who could.
“You don’t think I’m a wicked murderer?” she deadpanned.
“No, you definitely are,” Dimple said, amused. “But I think I like you anyway.”
Her words were cruel and inappropriate and should not have sent a flutter through Saffi’s chest. The irony of it was laughable.
The corners of Saffi’s mouth quirked despite her efforts to suppress it. “What does that make you, then, I wonder.”
Saffi felt herself moving before she realized Dimple had hooked a leg under her chair, wheeling her closer. Her body cast a menacing shadow from above. It felt counterintuitive. This close, Saffi could hear the way Dimple’s breath hitched with every lie. She could see the way her pupils dilated, maybe even feel the way her heartbeat picked up in speed. But maybe that was the point. Maybe this was not the time for lies.
“Tell me, Saffi,” Dimple began, “how does one win in a world that favors the cruel?”
Saffi paused, taken aback. Not necessarily because of the natureof the question, but because it was something that she’d asked herself several times. It was impossible not to, given her line of work.
“You have to play by their rules,” she found herself saying. “And you have to be better at it than anyone else. Otherwise, don’t bother playing at all.”
“Is that why you allow Atlas and Eli to weigh you down?” Dimple asked. “Because you’replaying by their rules?”
Saffi blanched. “What?”
“Even your words aren’t your own. You didn’t run because you’re a coward like you allow everyone to believe. And perhaps you’re starting to believe it yourself. But really, you left to preserve your father’s reputation,” Dimple said. “Let me guess: No matter what you do, it never seems to be enough, does it? Not for your family, not for Atlas and Eli, not even for yourself.”
