A Change of Heart (32 page)

“I'm sorry,” she said to Ria as the paramedics took her vitals and started an IV. She slipped Ria's hand into Nikhil's as he climbed into the ambulance and she got off. “Is she going to be okay?” Jess asked, moving away before he could touch her.

He nodded. “The baby's coming. That's all. They're both going to be fine.”

Her relief was so strong her entire body sagged.

“This isn't about the blessing. It would have happened anyway. It's just time.”

She tried to nod, but some things defied explanation. She turned and started to walk away.

“Jess,” he called after her, and despite herself she faced him again. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you like that. I should have asked,” he said, but she didn't care, she just needed him to leave so she could get away like the thief she was.

That's when it happened, the moment that ruined everything. His eyes widened with panic. The paramedics pushed her out of the way.

“Is he safe?” Nikhil said over their heads, everything but terror gone from his eyes. “Is Joy safe?”

She stared at him, unable to respond, unable to bear the pain pooling in her heart.

“Please don't leave. Please be here when I get back.” It was the last thing he said before the paramedics slammed the doors in place and the ambulance drove off, leaving her standing there, taking with it the anger that had been so much easier than what she was left holding.

38

 

—Dr. Jen Joshi

 

 

M
aybe she shouldn't have run. Maybe she should have listened to her heart and trusted Nikhil to come back from the hospital and help her take care of things. Maybe she should have trusted that look in his eyes when he had figured out about Joy being in danger.

Or maybe she needed to stop wishing she had seen him just one more time before letting him go forever.

The autorickshaw pulled to a stop outside Joy's school, and she led him to the door. He squeezed her hard, his arms a vise around her waist. He hadn't stopped doing that ever since she came home yesterday and Sweetie had handed Joy to her at the airport before taking off for London.

Sweetie's boyfriend, Armaan, had hidden Joy and Sweetie in the back of his car and brought them to the airport so they wouldn't be followed. And then taken Joy back so she could take a taxi. She wished she could take Joy and run away to London with Sweetie. But Joy didn't even have a passport.

“One call and I'll be back,” Sweetie had told her. “I really don't want to leave you alone.”

But she couldn't worry about Sweetie being thrown in jail. She had to focus all her energy on carrying out her plan.

“I'll bring you back a red double-decker bus,” Sweetie had said to Joy, fighting tears. “You be good for Mamma, even if she's not as awesome as Sweetie-mamu.”

“No one's as awesome as Sweetie-mamu,” Joy had said, and Sweetie had lost the fight against his tears when he turned away.

Joy hadn't asked once why Sweetie had to leave. Or why she had been gone for three weeks. He had just refused to let her get too far, sitting as close to her as he could, sleeping tightly wedged into her, clutching her hand all day as he brushed his teeth and changed his clothes. He'd even eaten all his meals on her lap.

She could have told him a million times that she would never leave him again. Instead, she had stuck close and clung to him in return, because words meant nothing in the face of actions.

“I'll pick you up as soon as school gets out, Joyboy. And we'll go to Birdies and get ice cream.”

“Chocolate with chocolate brownie and chocolate sauce?”

“Of course.”

He let her go slowly and dragged his feet up the steps. Naag had made it clear that she couldn't keep him home from school until the evidence was in his hands. She was lucky yesterday was a Sunday and she had got to spend at least that one day at home with Joy.

Naturally, Naag had been livid when she had told him that she had come home without the evidence. But she had told him that she knew where it was. She had agreed to take him to it this afternoon, so she had to act soon before she lost the nerve to carry out her plan.

Handing over the evidence was out of the question. She had tried. She had tried to talk herself into handing over the little piece of plastic Jen had died for, that Nikhil had crawled out of hell for, but she hadn't been able to. Not with everything those two had given her.

It wasn't just about doing the right thing either. She knew that there really was no way out. As soon as she gave Naag the evidence, he would have no reason to keep her or Joy alive. Her plan was the only chance she had. This wasn't the time to think about the fact that her entire plan rested on Nikhil's ability to judge people. Given how wrong he had been to trust her, there was no comfort in that thought.

She slid her sunglasses off her head and over her eyes. She crossed the street to the BEST bus stop and pretended to wait for a bus, although she hadn't made up her mind where she would be going. She studied the surroundings, trying to spot the bastards who were no doubt watching her and would watch for Joy the entire time he was in school.

The thought made her want to throw up, but she was taking care of it, and she had to focus on that. She used the cell phone Sweetie had handed her at the airport and dialed the number she had stolen from Nikhil.

She remembered sliding the card out of Nikhil's wallet when he was in the bathroom and writing it down, and felt a stab of shame. Which was hilarious, really. Of all the things she had stolen from him, this was one he had offered up. But the irony of her guilt would have made him break into that badly timed laughter of his.

She had to trust Nikhil's and Jen's judgment and trust the police officer.

The phone had been ringing for a while now. Just as she was beginning to believe he wouldn't answer, he did. “Yes?” he said with the impatience of someone who was being interrupted.

“I need to speak with Rahul Savant, please.” Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a black SUV parked across the street.

“Speaking.”

“I need to meet you. About a case.” She recognized the man in the driver's seat of the SUV. He had been tailing Joy and her.

“Ma'am, this is a private number. You can come into the police station and someone will help you.”

“No. Not the police station. It's important.”

“Okay. What's it about?”

“I . . . I can't . . . Can you come to the Punjab National Bank in Lokhandwala Complex? Today. At noon.”

“Ma'am, I'm going to need more than that.”

She took a deep breath. “Nikhil Joshi gave me your number. He said I could trust you.”

A full minute of silence seemed to follow. Maybe he was trying to track her number. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Okay.”

Relief and panic swept through her like twin currents. She clamped down on both. She had made her choice and this was it. “Just you. Please.”

He must have heard the desperation in her voice, because his stern tone softened. “Yes. I'll be there.”

The number 141 bus to Lokhandwala arrived, and she climbed aboard the dusty red double-decker, making her way up the stairs to the upper deck. She had just about an hour to get there.

She twisted around to catch another glimpse of the black SUV through the bus window, but her eyes caught another SUV on the other side of the intersection across the street from the one she had noticed earlier. She lifted her sunglasses and studied the car. She didn't recognize the bearded man in a
kurta
with his feet up on the dashboard, but there was something off about him. For all his languor, the other two men in the car had a strange alertness about them. All three wore sunglasses. But they were parked in the shade. She looked back at the other one. Why were there
two
SUVs keeping watch on Joy's school?

* * *

Nikhil watched the expression on Rahul's face. Complete, deliberate blankness.

“Who was that?”

“I have no idea. But I need to head out for a while. Feel free to stay and look through the catalogs.” Rahul stood and grabbed his keys and then instead of leaving he walked back to Nikhil and peered over his shoulder at the albums with pictures of women in various dance poses that Nikhil had spent the past two hours poring over. “Tell me again, Dr. Joshi, why you said we were looking for this woman?”

“Actually, I didn't say.” Nikhil flipped the album shut and waited for the cop to say what he evidently wasn't sure how to say.

“You know you're going to have to trust me,” Rahul said.

“Basically, it's like this. If you want my help finding the evidence Jen hid for you, you're going to have to help me find this girl.”

“Why?”

“You're going to have to trust me,” Nikhil threw back at him.

Rahul studied him for another long moment.

He'd been studying Nikhil like a particularly complex crime scene ever since Nikhil had walked into his office in the middle of the night, straight from the airport. Nikhil had already told him everything he could remember about Jess, which of course didn't even include her real name.

Apparently, all the things Nikhil knew about her were entirely useless when it came to finding a missing person. There were literally thousands of chorus dancers who worked in Bollywood and not a single one was called Jess Koirala.

Rahul had told him that he had been searching for a girl by that name ever since he had found out that she was the recipient of Jen's heart over a week ago. Without any luck. But the elaborate effort that had gone into falsifying the donor records meant some very powerful people were involved.

Rahul had acquired portfolios from as many dance troupes as he could. They were laid out in front of Nikhil. Thirty-odd albums. He'd been through them a dozen times already. Even with all that face paint, he should've been able to pick her out. Shouldn't he? There was no way anyone else had eyes like that or that mouth. His eyes kept searching for that presence of hers. But could it even be captured on camera? That stillness? That calm-as-a-pond, disrupting-yet-soothing feeling of her that fluttered at the edge of his consciousness. Constantly.

If she had looked wounded before, that had killed her. All the courage it had taken for her to lay her feelings out in front of him despite her hopelessness, and he had been too much of a coward. Nothing in her face had moved. But her eyes . . . that look in her eyes had chased him endlessly. He wasn't just a coward, he was a liar.

Of course he felt it.

He felt it in every beat of his heart, in every part of his body she had touched. In every part of
him
she had touched. It had terrified him. He had thought denying it meant he wouldn't have to bear the pain of loss again.

What an idiot he had been.

When he came home from the hospital and saw that diary sitting on Ria's perfectly made bed, he had known it was too late to never love again.

She had known it too; before he had even admitted it to himself, she had known how he felt about her. Still, she had run from him. And that meant she was in danger. That Joy was in danger.

“The only way I will give you any cooperation is if you find the girl.” For all his trying to be a hard-ass, he really wanted to beg. “Please, we have to find her.”

“Did you give my number to anyone?” the cop said finally.

“What?”

“Did you give my number to someone and ask her to trust me?”

Nikhil stood up so fast the chair toppled over behind him and crashed into the ceramic floor.

Rahul gave him a look. “I think we might've found your girl.”

39

 

—Dr. Jen Joshi

 

 

O
f course she knew she was being followed. All these years of being hyperaware of her surroundings might have something to do with it. But mostly it was because the monster had told her in plain words that he was watching her. If he got even a whiff of what she was contemplating, it was over. She had no idea if Rahul Savant would help her or even how. But being out of options had one advantage. You didn't have to waste time on weighing them.

The blast of the AC hit her as she entered the bank. She'd picked this one because it was large and crowded. She spent a moment studying the poster of the latest home loans scheme. The man in the poster was clean-cut with a dimple running through his cheek as he smiled at his family in that overly loving way of ads. Of course he would look like Nikhil. She didn't bother to tamp down on the longing that squeezed her heart at the thought of him. No one had followed her into the bank. But she couldn't take any chances. She would have to be quick.

Her eyes started to search the crowd. She had no idea what the police officer looked like.

“Ma'am. You're here for the home loan scheme?” A man in a blue shirt looked at her with a completely bored expression. There were dark stains at his armpits, but he didn't look nervous. Just like someone who was running an errand and wanted to move on to something else.

She didn't respond.

“The manager you called earlier is ready for your meeting in office twelve.” He pointed to the back of the lobby. “Go down that corridor and turn left. It's the second room to your right.”

“Thanks.” She pulled her purse closer to herself and walked as casually as she could to the door and knocked.

A man in a bright white shirt pulled the door open.
Rahul Savant.
She thought of the way the name rolled off Nikhil's American tongue. He wasn't wearing a uniform, but she would bet her dancing legs this was him.

“DCP Savant.” He flashed the ID badge hanging from his neck on a lanyard at her and gestured for her to come in.

She surveyed the room as the door clicked shut behind her. There was another door all the way across the room. Not that she would make it there if he didn't want her to, but knowing her escape route gave her an illusion of control. If Nikhil and Jen had been wrong about DCP Savant, she was dead. Then again, if her plan didn't work she was dead anyway. If they wanted to hurt Joy they would have to kill her first.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” she said without moving toward the chair he was pointing to.

“How can I help you, ma'am?”

Where did she start? “You're working on Jen Joshi's case? I'm, um . . .” Despite the overactive air-conditioning, sweat beaded over her scalp and trickled down her neck.

“Here, sit down,” he said and poured her a glass of water. “What do you know about Jen Joshi?”

She cleared her throat and searched the room again. They were alone. “Nikhil . . . Dr. Joshi's husband, he said I could trust you.”

He nodded but didn't push, and she knew he was adept at gleaning information from unwilling sources. One way or another she was doing this. There was no getting out of it now. “I'm being blackmailed. They . . . They've been threatening to hurt my son. He's . . .” Her voice cracked and she cleared it again. “He's just seven years old. And . . .” She hadn't expected to start shaking. But Joy's face when he had waved good-bye was stuck in her head. And Naag's laugh.

She stood, the chair shrieking against the tile behind her. “I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this.” She should never have left Joy by himself.

The cop was next to her in a second.

“Listen, relax. If you don't tell me what's going on I can't help you.” He held out a bottle of water. “Someone's threatening your son. Do you know who the person is?”

She shook her head. Even though she had never seen Naag, she could identify his voice in her sleep. But she wouldn't tell Rahul Savant that. There was no way of knowing that he wasn't already in Naag's pocket. If she were being realistic, how could he not be?

“I can't tell you anything until you get me and my son to a safe location. A new name, a new life. I'll go anywhere. Leave everything behind. But I won't tell you anything until you take care of this. Today.”

“Listen, ma'am. You need to breathe. I can't help you if you don't tell me what this is about and who it is that's threatening you.”

“I already told you it's about the Jen Joshi murder.”

“Do you have information about the murderers?”

“I'm not telling you anything more, until you get us to a safe place. Where no one can find us.”

“Okay. Where's your son right now? You're going to have to trust me.”

She laughed. “I'll trust you when you get us to a safe place.”

“How about me? Would you trust me?” The voice came from behind her. She spun around. Not that she needed to see him to know it was him, but there he was. His shoulders a little wider than when she'd first seen him, his face a little less gaunt. The spasm in her heart was a bolt of electricity. Her hand went to the scar, but she pulled it back.

“Nikhil.” The name left her mouth before she could hold it back.

His eyes rested on her. Both hard and soft, filled with questions and accusations and relief, so much relief. “You left,” he said, not stopping until he was so close she could smell his fresh Nikhil smell. “And now you want to leave again?” That tone, so possessive and intimate, she closed her eyes.

Why had she prayed to see him one more time? Now he was here, and everything was going to be ruined.

She turned to the officer. “They're outside. If I'm in here too long they'll know something is wrong. Please.” She turned to Nikhil. “Nikhil, please. They're outside Joy's school.”

He didn't touch her, but it felt like he had. “Rahul, get someone to Joy's school right now.”

Rahul pulled out his phone and spoke into it.

“He goes to St. Teresa's Primary School,” she said.

When he had repeated the information on the phone, the cop crossed his arms across his chest. “Now I'm going to need some details before I can do anything more.”

“Tell him,” Nikhil said, watching her in that way he had as though he were checking her for injuries. “We have no choice but to trust him.”

We.

She turned back to DCP Savant. “Six months ago, he stole my son out of school and took him away for two days. He didn't hurt him. Just made him sit in a hospital waiting room telling him I was hurt. Joy, my son, he's seven years old. He was terrified when I picked him up. Two days after that someone crashed into him when he was riding his bike.” She ran her finger across her forehead, just above her brow. “He had to get five stitches. And his arms were all scratched up. The man . . . I've never seen him . . . he said the next time Joy wouldn't get off so easy. Next time they took him I wouldn't see him again. Unless . . . If I didn't . . .” She looked at Nikhil. “If I didn't do as he said. If I didn't get the evidence Jen had hidden.”

She pulled the neck of the T-shirt she was wearing down until the tip of her scar was visible. “He sent me to a hospital to get the scar. It's fake . . . well, it's real. But it's just cut into my skin.”

Breath hissed from Nikhil, but there was more rage in his eyes than she had ever seen.

“He gave me Jen's diary and made me study it so I could pretend that she was telling me these things.”

She was about to say sorry to Nikhil, to reach out and wipe the torment off his face, but he reached out and stroked her cheek instead, his eyes fierce.

“Did you find the evidence?” Rahul Savant was looking at her completely differently now.

She nodded. “I did find it.”

Nikhil looked like she had stabbed him, but he didn't take his hand off her cheek.

“It was in the diary,” she said directly to Nikhil. “But I haven't given it to him. And if he finds out, he'll . . . If something happens to Joy . . .”

“He knows you're back?” Nikhil spun around to face Rahul, panic in his voice. “We have to get Joy out of school right now.” He took her hand and headed for the door.

Rahul followed them. “Where is the evidence?” he asked as they broke into the sunshine and got into the car that was waiting right outside the bank.

She snapped on her seat belt in the backseat next to Nikhil. “I have it. But I won't give it to you until Joy is safe.” She couldn't get the SUV outside Joy's school out of her mind. “You have no idea what this man is capable of.” What had that second SUV been doing there?

Something about that second SUV was very wrong. Why hadn't she gotten off the bus when she'd seen the second SUV?

Nikhil looked at her face. “Rahul, can we step on it?”