This was all she’d wanted.
The engine hummed. Khala helped Ammi into the back seat.
Meanwhile, Hena walked over to the cabin. Steppinginside, she paused at Haris’s lifeless body. His eyes were open—astonished even in death at what had happened.
She clocked his phone, which lay by his side. The screen was cracked. Her heart leapt. She kneeled down to pick it up, then held it in front of his face. It unlocked.
Hena slid to his texts and scanned his exchanges, hoping she could mimic him well enough. She typed and sent a message:
The hit is off. Await further instruction.
She dropped the phone by Haris’s side. Prayed it worked. Prayed she wasn’t too late. She looked at his still form. This man who was her friend. This man she had trusted so completely.
She waited to feel something. Betrayal. Anger. Grief.
Nothing came. Maybe one day it would.
For now, she made her way to the cabin door, then flung the lantern inside.
The glass shattered against the wooden floor, and the blaze was instant. It raced through the cabin, licking the walls, the floors, the evidence. Everything.
Hena torched Haris’s SUV. She hurried toward Khala’s waiting Camry and slid into the passenger seat. As they drove away, the fire burned bright, glowing against the night sky—erasing the cabin, along with every dark memory it held.
29
•
The police were all over the resort.
Detective Milcheck was there too. She had just finished speaking with him, though there wasn’t much to say. Nasir, the prodigal son, had returned, and this new development seemed to have taken the wind out of the detective’s sails. It was like he said: Leaving of one’s own volition was not a crime. While Hena knew it wasn’t as simple as that, for now, at least, she had a reprieve.
No one had made much of Haris’s absence. Not yet. By the time they did, there would be no body to find. Thanks to Haris, there would also be no security footage to reveal what had happened and who she’d fled with in the darkness of night.
Lulu was asking questions, though. Hena’s disappearance. Nasir’s return. So many things demanded answers. Even now, her eyes flicked from Khala to Ammi. She was definitely not buying their story of an urgent emergency room trip in the middle of all the commotion, though she wasn’t pressing quite yet.
Ammi was in her wheelchair, frail and exhausted, a shawl draped over her shoulders. The final party of the weddingweek was definitely going to be a no-go. Ammi met Hena’s eyes for a second. The plea in her eyes was plain:Stay quiet.
Hena wished that were possible. It felt kinder, and it would certainly be simpler. But ugly truths left unspoken festered. Even if there wasn’t the pressing urgency of accounting for Lucinda and others who were surely staking out the resort at this very moment, Lulu was building a hotel empire in her father’s name. She needed to know who he was; she deserved it. Hena would talk to her mother later today. It was time to tell Lulu. Together.
For now, Khala pushed Ammi’s wheelchair back toward the hotel. They slipped through the sliding doors.
Hena’s gaze lingered on the closed doors. Her mother was no saint, but she had tried as best as she could to protect her children. Maybe Hena could at last forgive her.
Nasir stood near the patio with his family. His eyes found Hena’s, and they reunited at a shady corner of the garden, out of earshot.
He took hold of her arms and drew her close. His grip was firm, but she noticed how his hands trembled.
“I thought I’d lost you.” His words came out hoarse.
There was no one nearby, but she spoke quietly all the same.
“He’s dead,” Hena told him.
Nasir gaped at her. Processing.
“Don’t ask me how. Don’t ask for details. Just know it’s done.”
“That’s impossible. There’s no way.” He shook his head. “You don’t know him like I do. He can shock you when you least expect it.”