The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(71)

Zoya had given chase in the auto and noted down the number, but she wasn’t sure she got it right.

“How long ago was this?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you for the last fifteen minutes.”

All that time Tara had spent dreaming about spending time with her daughter, someone had taken her.

“What should we do?” Zoya said. “I’m sending you the digits on the number plate. What next?”

Tara didn’t know. Had the men mistaken Pia for someone else? Similar incidents had occurred in other parts of Lucknow, but the victims belonged to rich families. She’d read about them in the papers. Ransom calls. Police raids. Why would anyone want Pia?

“Tara, are you there?” Zoya’s words startled her. “Should I call the police? When will you be here?”

The police. Arnav. He’d know what to do.

“I’ll call you back.” Tara’s voice shook. “Go to a friend’s place. Keep your phone switched on.”





CHAPTER SIXTY


ARNAV

On a wall of the cramped room the sensei had given him, Arnav re-created the board from his office. He jotted down a mind map of the serial murders and the suspects, using his notes and phone snapshots. The details from Shinde’s papers went up on the board one by one.

Naik’s team was interrogating the shooters who had attacked the Malwani station. Working out the connections between the suspects was the only way Arnav could help Naik.

Arnav looked up at a noise from the door. Tara stood at the threshold, her hair rumpled, her eyes wild.

“Avi.”

The helpless terror on her face yanked Arnav to his feet.

“They took Pia, Avi. Zoya said . . .”

He heard her words, but his brain refused to understand. Tara’s voice carried a broken, desperate note. Pia could only be . . . that girl on the screen. He’d imagined what it might mean. It had now turned real.

“I should’ve told you much earlier. I meant to tell you at the hospital. Last evening. This morning. I swear to you. Zoya had told me she was being followed. I should have talked to you.”

Zoya was the friend Tara had escaped with. The other girls said Zoya had taken care of Tara since she was first brought to the Blue Bar.

Arnav hugged her. “Tell me exactly what Zoya said.”

He brought her to sit on the bed, and stroked her hand while she talked, as much for himself as for her. The room seemed to spin a little. Pia was his. Tara had run away not in order to abandon him, but because she’d assumed he wouldn’t support her. He had a daughter, his flesh and blood. He kissed Tara’s hair, let her sob as she spoke incoherent words, trying to take it all in and order his chaotic thoughts. A daughter. This was why pregnancy took nine months—to get you used to the idea of being a parent. That could wait. He had to find Pia first.

“What did you tell your friend? Has she made a police report?”

“No. I was coming to you when she rang again. Someone called her. They asked for my number so I gave Zoya this new one. If she tells anyone, makes a report, they said they would, they would . . .”

“Harm Pia.” Arnav finished the sentence. The first time he’d spoken his daughter’s name. It felt strange, yet right—the weight of the word, its syllables.

“You must find her, Avi. She’s thirteen. Tell your colleagues. Zoya noted the number on the car.” She handed him a slip of paper. “The police can help, right?”

The police can help, right? The exact words he’d said to his father after Asha was attacked.

The plate number was probably fake. Before he acted, he needed more information.

“Avi?” Tara’s gaze burned into him. “We must get her back.”

We. Us. A few days ago, there was no such thing.

“Zoya had asked me to return.” Tara covered her face. “Why am I even here?”

Because of me. You’re here because of me. He sighed. There you go, Arnav, all about yourself.

With his uninjured arm, he held her as she shivered and did not speak.

Pia was why Tara worked for Shetty. Arnav poured Tara a glass of water. She may have hidden his daughter from him, but like she’d said earlier, she hadn’t stopped him from searching for her. If he’d traced Tara, she wouldn’t have had to raise their child alone.

Maybe he was lying to himself. Hand on his heart, fourteen years ago, would he have wanted this? Probably not. Tara took a sip of the water, and putting down the glass, curled into him. He placed his unhurt arm about her and strove to forget that he’d failed his sister, his parents.

Moments later, he leaned away from Tara, studied her face, the sheen of tears. He had failed then. Not this time. Setting emotions aside, he must fight for Pia and Tara, his new family, use cold reason to do what he excelled at: police work. Who would kidnap Pia and why?

“How long ago was this?”

“Less than half an hour.”

“Talk to Zoya. Ask her if she can remember anything else at all. When they warned her not to inform the police, did they make any demands? She must tell you each word she heard. The smallest detail might help.”

Tara picked up her phone.

“Maybe wash your face first? You need to be calm for this to work.”

He knew she would take a bath—the one thing that steadied her.