I’m not being cruel. It’s simply fact. Whatever that detective hauled her away for? Mark my words, she’s guilty.
12
•
This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.
Hena stepped into the conference room adjacent to the mayoun hall. The long oak table gleamed beneath the recessed lighting. It was a sleek, modern space—designed for CEOs who had chosen a tropical location for their annual board meeting to sneak in some sun. It certainly wasn’t meant for whatever this conversation was about to be.
The detective shut the door and sat down across from her. He wore khakis and a linen shirt, ostensibly to avoid drawing attention to his presence, though the odds were everyone in attendance had already figured out exactly who he was.
She was afraid to know why he was there.
Folding his hands on the table, he leaned forward.
“I’m not sure you remember me. Detective Milcheck,” he introduced himself. “I’ve been investigating your fiancé’s disappearance.”
“I remember you,” she said. “I thought the case had gone cold.”
“Interesting assumption.” He studied her like she had given something away. “Why would you think that?”
Was he serious? “It’s been three years,” she said slowly. “That’s why. I’ve received no updates.”
“Just because we don’t call doesn’t mean we let things fall to the wayside,” he said. “And when we get new information, we act.”
Her breath caught. “You found something new?”
“We received a tip, yes.” His eyes were trained on her. “It’s about you.”
“Me?”
“Someone reported you have information pertaining to his absence,” he continued. “That you might know where he is.”
The timing of this “tip” meant whoever phoned it in was at the wedding. She wasn’t surprised, but the disappointment stung. It was one thing to gossip with one another, but to bring the police into this?
“I wish I knew where he was,” she said. “It’s why I called every week for years trying to see if you all might do your jobs. Last I remember, you said disappearing isn’t a crime.”
“Ms. Mirza, we have been doing our jobs. As you can see, we are still doing our jobs.” He frowned. “While going missing is not a crime, we take it seriously if there’s suspicion of foul play. If you know something about what happened to him, it’s important you share it with us.”
The door swung open.
Haris. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him. Before the detective could speak, he drew to Hena’s side.
“She won’t be answering any questions without me present,” Haris told the detective. “I’m her attorney.”
His presence alone was enough to shift the air in the room. Hena gave Haris a grateful smile as Milcheck leaned back.
“That was fast,” he said.
“Lulu filled me in just a second ago.” Haris gave Hena anapologetic look before turning back to the detective. “We don’t want any misunderstandings.”
“Of course not,” Milcheck replied, but there was something smug in his tone. “Funny thing, though—misunderstandings usually start when people have something to hide.”
“What do you think I’m hiding?” Hena’s voice rose. “If I knew where he was, why would I have kept it secret all these years?”
Haris touched her knee gently beneath the table—a reminder to stay calm. A reminder he was here to help her, and she needed to let him.
“Detective, if you have something to say, say it,” Haris told him. “This is a family wedding, and we would like to return to the festivities.”