As soon as Saffi returned, Taylor pulled her aside, his grip on her arm firm and unyielding. She shook herself free once they were alone.
“What?” she snapped.
“Why would you put Mia on assignment?” he asked. The hurt in his tone revealed what he really meant.Why didn’t you tellme?
Saffi rolled her eyes. “You and I would’ve killed for an opportunity like this when we were interns.”
“She could’ve been hurt!”
“All three of us were there.” Saffi frowned. “She was completely safe.”
“Shyla Patel wasn’t safe, was she?”
Saffi opened her mouth to argue but then paused. Once again, her assumptions of Dimple Kapoor were clouding her judgment. For some godforsaken reason, she had been under the impression that Dimple wouldn’t hurt someone like Martinez. As though Dimple wouldn’t demolish anyone and anything that stood in her path. Shyla was a prime example. This was exactly why Saffi’s father had taught her not to inject personal biases into investigations.
Another horrifying thought wormed its way into her mind. What if Dimple had been counting on Saffi to intercept Olsen? What if the real reason Shyla had gotten hurt was because Saffi had been distracted? She felt sick.
Again. She was doing this again. If she wasn’t careful, history would repeat itself and Saffi would be responsible for yet another innocent’s death.
Priyal. That was who Martinez reminded Saffiof.
“I didn’t think,” she admitted.
Taylor kept his stern disapproval fixed on her for another second before sighing and uncrossing his arms. “You’re right about one thing, though. We absolutely would’ve killed for an opportunity like that as interns. But you and I both know we wouldn’t have been ready.” He placed a comforting hand on Saffi’s shoulder. “She really looks up to you, you know? Even before you got here, she wouldn’t shut up about all the cases you solved while abroad.”
Heat rose in Saffi’s cheeks. She shrugged off Taylor’s hand. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, she could use a mentor.”
Saffi froze. “You’d trust me with her?” Seconds ago, he’d been chiding her.
Taylor gave her a confused look. “You’re one of the only people I’d trust.”
He said it as though it was obvious. She felt embarrassed all of a sudden. That was when her phone chimed. The location of the alley, a much more pressing matter.
“Martinez says she’s on her way home,” Saffi relayed. “But there’s something I need to check out. Will you come with me?” She hoped he wouldn’t ask any further questions.
Taylor, like he always did, seemed to sense that. “Sure.”
Martinez hadn’t been wrong, the alleyway wasn’t more than a ten-minute walk from Olsen’s mansion and they made the trip in five by running straight there. But when they arrived, adrenaline running high, there was nobody and nothing in sight. Saffi scanned for moving cars and found none, upturned every piece of trash and cardboard and found not even a strand of brown hair.
“Some of these houses might have cameras,” Taylor tried.
Saffi scoffed. “Unlikely any of them see as far as the alley.” These celebrities had entire jungles for backyards; it was probably difficult enough for their cameras to cover the full extent of their property.
“It doesn’t hurt to check.”
But Taylor had no idea the golden opportunity that had slipped from their fingers. If only Saffi had been paying as close attention to Dimple Kapoor as Martinez had been. But no, that in itself was the problem. The only reason she’d managed to get so close was becauseDimple had been focused on Saffi. They were held prisoner in each other’s orbit. Saffi had effectively shot herself in the foot.
Her phone chimed again, this time with a message confirming that Martinez had made it home. She clutched it tight, close to her chest. At least her intern was safe.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
August 8, 2026
Heart pounding andhead in another dimension entirely, Dimple made it to Olsen’s mansion in one piece only because she’d planned her route so extensively beforehand. With her wig securely in place, clothes swapped out, and gloves pulled on, she made the arduous trek uphill. Her knuckles strained with the firm grip she had on the bag she’d stashed in one of the bushes outside the party. Olsen’s mansion wasn’t too far from the party—about a thirty-minute walk—but she hadn’t accounted for his neighborhood to be on an incline. Regardless, the burn in her calves was a welcome distraction from her mind.
The area felt oddly familiar, an eerie sense of déjà vu washing over Dimple in a tidal wave. She felt chilled to the bone. It wasn’t until she stopped in the middle of the road, warm summer breeze ruffling synthetic hair, that she realized.
