“So do I,” Andino said, now full-on pleading. “Why can’t we move on together?”
“Because I’m starting to think you’re the one holding me back,” Saffi snapped.
Andino’s face shuttered. “Wow,” he said, and there was enough emotion in it to drown her. “I can’t believe that’s how you—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “You’re the one who invited a serial killer into the place Eli and I built together,” he said, shaking with barely restrained anger. “And you don’t even care because we’ve always been disposable to you, haven’t we?”
“No,” Saffi protested. “No, of course not.”
“But you think I’m holding you back?” It wasn’t a question, not really.
Saffi answered it anyway. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then kill her.”
“I can’t.”
“What happened to you?” Andino asked. “The Saffi I know would never let go of justice for anyone.”
“What is justice?” Saffi asked. “Letting a serial abuser walk freebecause he has enough money for bribes and enough friends in high places? Or is it letting someone guilty of manslaughter walk free because he has enough money to check into rehab and start a foundation? The truth is, you don’t know what justice is, Andino. And you don’t know me either.”
If he did, he would realize that Saffi wasn’t doing this for anyone else, nor was she doing this to hurt him. For once, she was doing something for herself.
“How could I possibly know you?” Andino asked. “You’ve been lying to me just as much as Dimple has. Has anything you’ve said since you’ve come back been true?”
Saffi opened her mouth to respond, but Andino cut her off. “You know what, don’t answer that. It’ll probably be another lie anyway.” He pressed his forehead into the barrel of the gun with so much force, Saffi had to take a step back. “Go ahead. Kill me. I’m doneholding you back.”
“Andino,” her voice came out weak, the words getting stuck in her throat. “God, what the fuck? Since when do you have a death wish?”
“This is what you want, isn’t it?”
“No.” Her grip loosened on the gun. She pulled away, just a bit, and there was a red mark left behind on Andino’s forehead. He tracked her movement. “I’m trying to help you, you idiot. They’ll lock you up, you’ll never work as a PI ever again, and Andino and Taylor Private Eye will go down just like Stronghold did. Is that really what you want?”
But Saffi could tell from his blank expression that Andino hadn’t heard a word she’d said. The gun was the only thing that had his attention. She should’ve expected it—of course someone as stubborn as him would never accept defeat. But he moved faster than she could predict, one arm outstretched, reaching for the weapon. Without thinking, Saffi pulled the trigger. She didn’t even hear the bang. One minute there was scuffling; the next, her ears were ringing.
Andino crumpled to the ground.
Red, pouring from his mouth. Convulsing. Then, quicker than the gunshot itself, it was over. Even holding the smoking gun, Saffi could hardly believeit.
Seconds passed. Minutes even. Then she was on her knees, clamoring over to him. Something warm and viscous soaked into her pants. His blood, Saffi realized. She tried calling Andino’s name and was met with no response. She pressed two fingers to his neck. Still warm, but no pulse.
Swallowing around the urge to vomit, Saffi pulled back, trembling from head to toe. She’d seen too many corpses to count, but this couldn’t compare.
This lifeless body belonged to the man who’d doodled palm trees onto the back of her birthday cards because he didn’t know how else to show he cared. The one who, five years later, still remembered the ridiculous things she’d said while drunk. For someone so stubborn, it didn’t make sense for him to go down so easily.
Saffi was acutely aware that she was hyperventilating, but somehow that knowledge only made it worse. Her lungs had stopped cooperating with her. The numbness from before consumed her whole, leaving her a deep, soul-crushing, bottomless pit of nothing.
This was murder. Whatever she’d thought she’d known before paled in comparison. Saffi had gotten her wish. She was one step closer to understanding Dimple Kapoor.
Chapter Forty
September 9, 2026
Saffi felt astrange sense of déjà vu as she sat in the hospital waiting room. The same hospital where she’d met Dimple Kapoor for the first time. It seemed fitting to be back here again. Except Andino and Taylor had been with her at the time. And now Saffi was alone.
Nobody would relay to her what Dimple’s condition was. That likely meant Dimple was in a position where she’d be unable to give consent for visitors. Knocked out, in surgery, in a coma, dead, the possibilities were endless.
Either that or Dimple didn’t want to see her.
But shooting themselves had been Dimple’s idea. One with crime scene knowledge and the other with the ability to construct a compelling narrative. Together, they left that trailer framed as victims. Saffi had tried to avoid all the important arteries, bones, nerves, and vessels when she’d shot Dimple in the leg, but now she second-guessed herself. What if she’d aimed wrong? Or misremembered? Saffi’s own injury had been entirely uncomplicated. The bullet had grazed her arm. A few stitches and she was fine. Apparently, Dimple had missed, which Saffi didn’t believe for a second. No one ever played with fire and expected to come out of it unscathed.
