As though on cue, there was the crackling sound of fireworks. Brilliant orange and green sparks burst into the night sky through the windows.
“Ms. Mirza, we recently got a ping from a cell tower near Homestead,” said Detective Milcheck. “We have reason to believe the device belonged to Nasir Wahidi.”
Homestead? Her pulse quickened. Homestead was here. In Florida. Only an hour south of them. Looking at Haris, he was processing this as well—the news clearly a shock to him too. He nodded, signaling for her to answer.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said truthfully.
“You don’t know,” he repeated. “Let me be honest. Here’s what we do know. We know he didn’t arrive for your wedding. We know he turned off his phone the morning of the nuptials. We know his accounts were emptied. So we know there was premeditation in his leaving.”
“None of this is new,” she said, her frustration leaking out.
“We received a tip that you saw him—in fact,spoketohim—not just the night before, but the morning of his disappearance. Which means you would have been the last person to have seen him.”
Shit. Thiswassomething new. Something that sent ice down her spine.
“We also have reason to believe the quarter of a million dollars he removed from his account was yours,” he said.
A wave of nausea passed through her. How would he know? No one knew about that.
“I don’t appreciate this fishing expedition, Detective.” Haris’s tone sharpened. “Gossip isn’t a justification for harassment.”
“This isn’t a fishing expedition. It’s a tip.” Milcheck’s voice grew clipped. “A guest at this wedding reported their concerns, and we’re obligated to investigate any new information that comes to light. Ms. Mirza, it’s a simple question. And I’m assuming it would be all right if you shared your bank statements with us for the relevant time period? A quick look at your records from that time frame will put this particular theory to bed.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. This was déjà vu. They had asked to see her bank statements three years ago. She had demurred. They hadn’t pressed.
That part of her life was supposed to be behind her.
But if they saw her records, nothing would be behind her at all.
“We are done here.” Haris pulled out a business card from his wallet and slid it across the table. “If you have cause to bring my client in for questioning, or if you have a subpoena to request her records, contact me. Otherwise, we invite you to leave the premises.”
Milcheck pursed his lips, but he took the card. He studied Hena as he stood. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Mirza.”
He was nearly at the door when he looked at the card. His focus shifted to Haris. Something flickered across his face.
“So, you’re Haris.”
Haris’s face remained unreadable. “Is there something else?”
“Well, it’s interesting.” The detective studied the card. “I wasn’t going to mention this as it hardly seemed relevant, but the tip we received mentioned you. Or rather, the two of you.”
He gave them a knowing look. Hena stiffened. Was he accusing them both of conspiring to get rid of Nasir?
“If it’s of relevance, please share what you’ve heard,” Haris said calmly.
The detective looked from her to Haris. “I’m still figuring out if it is.”
“Excellent,” Haris said. “Once you’re done enjoying all the gossip our guests can regale you with and are actually ready to find Nasir, get in touch. Until then.” Haris gestured to the door.
When he was gone, Hena pressed her back against a wall to get her bearings.
“Wh-what was that?” she stammered. “Was he implying we did something to Nasir?”
“He’s throwing darts in the air,” Haris said. “Hoping to touch a nerve. That’s all. If they had anything real, we’d be having a different conversation.”
She should have felt reassured by this. But she wasn’t. Because someone had called the detective with this information. And whether they were speculating or not, what they told him was true.
Shehadspoken to Nasir that morning.
