False Hearts (False Hearts #1)(30)

Sal shrugs a shoulder. “Here and there. I go to charity events. Sometimes he’d be there. We were on friendly enough terms, I’d say.” A flicker of emotion on his face: regret.

“Why wasn’t Leylani here three nights ago?”

Sal takes a cig out of his breast pocket and sucks on it, the end briefly glaring red. He blows out the mist. “Said she wasn’t feeling well and had to cancel her shift.”

“Has she missed any work since?”

“No, she came in yesterday. I haven’t told her anything about this.”

“Can you tell us more about what happened three nights ago?”

Why am I here? I want to ask them. I don’t want to listen to this. I don’t want to hear this slick, shiny-suited man dispassionately explaining the night my sister’s life fell apart—and mine, as a side effect. Yet I’m curious, too, and find myself drifting closer. Adrenaline courses through my veins. I force myself to calm down.

“I found her. The room sensed the blood on the floor and it triggered an alarm. My employees are protected—they are never to be harmed. Fantasies like that are reserved for the Zealscape, but even so, we don’t allow violent sexual fantasies unless the host or hostess consents to it. Tila was always very clear she was not interested in that, and their engagement that night was not likely to be sexual.”

My shoulder muscles are so tense they feel like they could shatter.

“So I was concerned, obviously, and came in personally. There was Vuk on the floor, with Tila sitting next to him, covered in blood.”

I close my eyes, but the vision is too vivid. I open my eyes to see Sal’s blue ones focused on me, curiously watching my reaction. I release the tension in my body, but cross my arms over my chest.

“Did she say anything to you?” Nazarin asks.

“She did.”

I frown, and Nazarin nudges him. “What was it?”

Sal pauses, as if trying to remember. “Ah. Yes. It was something like, ‘He is the red one, the fair one, the handsome one. He came from the Earth and now he returns. The faces keep changing.’ I had no idea what it meant. And I still don’t. I wasn’t sure if she actually saw me, or was muttering it to herself. Does it mean anything to you?”

“No. Not yet. Why didn’t you tell the police?”

He looks down, slipping the cig into his pocket. “Slipped my mind.” Clearly, it hadn’t. It reminds me uncomfortably of Tila. I wonder why he’s giving it to us now.

I can tell Nazarin wants to play the hard cop, but restrains himself—that wouldn’t work with Sal. “What did you do next?”

“Called the police. And it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I debated letting her go, you know. I don’t mind admitting that. Tempted to let her wash herself off and disappear into the night. Dispose of the body. Clean up the blood.” He sighs. “But I knew I’d never get away with it, and much as I care for Tila, I didn’t care to sacrifice my livelihood for her. So I locked the doors and pinged the police, instructing them to come in the rear entrance and make as little fuss as possible. But then Tila threatened me with the knife, so I let her go. She grabbed Vuk’s coat by the door to cover up her blood-soaked dress and escaped out the back. I think Pallua saw something, or realized something was wrong, but she hasn’t said anything.”

That explains her nervousness around me, at least.

“Is Leylani here tonight?”

“Her shift should start soon, yes. Will you be telling her what happened?”

Nazarin shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. No need. But we’ll probably observe her and the other clients briefly before we go home.” He nods at me. “She’s going to work a shift like you agreed. Try her hand at being her sister for a few hours. Let the other hosts and hostesses know that she’s going away to China with her sister. Then she’ll be gone.”

“But Tila’s never returning,” Sal says, his voice bland.

“No, I find it unlikely she’d return to your employ, or that you’d let her.”

Sal considers me again. “Very well. This will be interesting, I suppose.” He tilts his head and points at his eye. “I’ll be watching.”

He smiles, but I’m not reassured.

“It’ll be interesting to see how similar you are to your sister,” he continues, standing and making his way to the window as well.

I say nothing. What is there to say?

“We appreciate your cooperation, Sal,” Nazarin says, standing.

Sal looks around at the room and sighs. “I’ll have to redecorate. I got all the blood out, but the memories are still here. All of this will have to go.”

The blood drains from my cheeks. Something terrible happened here last Thursday, but the idea of it all disappearing and being replaced with more bland, expensive furniture is hard to take. The room that changed everything for me will continue to be just another back Zeal lounge in the Zenith nightclub.

“One last thing,” Nazarin says. “I recommend you check your Zeal supply.” He nods to the Chairs in the corner.

Sal starts. “Why?”

“I can’t give details, but we have reason to believe that someone may be responsible for tampering with Zeal in certain lounges. If you find any anomalies, buy fresh stuff. Check it every time.”