Shumi’s father was a study in grim lines. If not for the circumstances, I’d have pegged him as a beleaguered executive—he had the silvered hair, his neatly trimmed mustache the same shade, and was a short and somewhat stocky man. He wore a suit, as if he’d dressed on autopilot for work.
It was wrinkled from the flights.
“This is Dr.Chen,” I said when they reached us. “I’m Tavish.”
A nod of acknowledgment from the older man before he looked at the doctor. “Our daughter?”
“Please follow me.” He spoke to the family as they walked, while I trailed behind. “Shumi suffered four deep stab wounds alongside three more minor ones.” He waited as if to see if they wanted a detailed breakdown of her injuries as I had with Diya, but when no one spoke, he said, “It’s a miracle she’s alive—your daughter has a strong spirit.”
“She always was stubborn,” Shumi’s mother said, her voice crisp.
“It’ll serve her well in this fight.” The doctor brought them to a stop in front of Shumi’s bed in the overflow unit. “I’ll allow all three of you to visit with her today, but please keep it to one or two people at a time going forward. And maintain calm—I know you’re emotional, but you won’t help her by wailing and weeping.”
“We won’t startle her,” Shumi’s father promised, then looked at me. “You’ll stay? We’ll talk after.”
“Of course.” I propped up the wall nearby while the three of them visited Shumi. I could hear sniffles but that was about the loudest sound aside from the doctor’s retreating footsteps as he returned to his rounds.
The nurses didn’t interrupt the family until it was time to change one of Shumi’s drips.
All three stepped away to join me.
“You should eat and get some sleep,” I said, leaning on what I’d been told. “She’s going to rely on you when she wakes—this is the time for you to rest, so you’re strong for when she needs you.”
Shumi’s mother gave a small nod. “He’s right. We can’t get sickourselves.” Her voice was calm, her words clipped. “Do you know where we could stay? We didn’t book anything.”
As I told them about the motel, I hoped I wasn’t anywhere near her vicinity when she cracked at last—because it would not be pretty. “Place is clean and modern, and there’s food delivery from a variety of restaurants. Looks like it’s mostly used by families in town to see the mud pools. I can take you—I have a car borrowed from a neighbor.”
That was when I realized. “Where’s your luggage?”
“A lady at reception said she’d store it when we told her why we were here,” Shumi’s brother, Ajay, said in a quiet voice. “I guess everyone knows about the fire and everything.”
“Yes.” It wasn’t every day New Zealand woke up to the news of the mass murder—and attempted murder—of an entire family.
My stomach lurched.
My name was going to end up in the articles. It was pure blind luck it hadn’t to this point.Fuck.
—
It was only after Shumi’s family had checked into the motel and I’d helped Ajay carry their luggage over to their family suite that I said, “Do any of you know anyone named Annie?” It was a long shot, since they were in-laws, rather than part of the immediate Prasad family—I wasn’t surprised when they frowned and gave me confused looks.
“No, is that a friend of Diya’s you want to contact?” Shumi’s mother asked. “You should get Ajay to help you look online. He’s very clever with the computer.” A fond smile on her face, she patted her son on the arm.
Who surprised me by saying “Actually, I might have seen an Annie on Shumi’s friends list. Let me have a look.” The clean-cutmale pushed up his spectacles. “Mum, Dad, you go in and shower. I’ll be right in.”
“Don’t be too long, Ajay beta,” his mother said. “Tavish is right. You have to rest.”
Ajay nodded and pulled out his phone. But instead of opening any social media apps, he shot a glance over his shoulder at the open door of the suite, then nudged his head for me to start walking back to the car.
“It’s not Annie,” he said after we were away from the door. “It’s Ani.”
I heard the difference in pronunciation at once, realized that was what Diya had actually said. TheApart of the name was more like anuhsound. Take themout of “money,” and you’d have the right pronunciation. Of course my fucked-up brain would make that comparison when I could’ve as easily used a word like “honey.”
“Ani,” I said after telling my grief-manic brain to shut up. “You know who that is?”
Brown eyes stared at me from behind the smudged lenses of his spectacles—paler eyes than Shumi’s, set in a more angular face. “How come you don’t already know?”
Ajay shook his head almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I forgot. You two met and fell in love in the space of, like, a month, right? My mum heard from Sarita auntie,” he said in explanation of how he knew. “They aren’t”—a quick pause—“weren’t super close, but I guess she wanted Mum to know in case people started to gossip and make up things.”
