The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(87)
“We’ll know where Pia is. My informer will call any minute.”
“Promise me.”
“Nothing will go wrong.” He had to believe it.
He’d hugged his sister all those years ago and told her he would grow up and protect her, make sure she was never hurt again. He’d found her body hanging from the ceiling less than an hour later.
His entire life, he’d fought for victims. Terrified of another loss, he’d run from attachments, the merest whiff of family. He strained to get the words past his choked throat but failed. Arnav kissed Tara instead, holding on to the one still moment amid the din of the crackling radio and his desperation. In that kiss, his touch on her cheek wet with tears, all was said, and he knew she understood.
Tukaram jogged back, and they took off. Arnav checked the GPS on the sub-inspector’s phone stuck to the dashboard—they would arrive in three minutes. It was 9:48 p.m.
Ali was supposed to call by 9:53 p.m. If he had the information, Tara wouldn’t leave the car.
He confirmed with Naik—she and her men had followed in unmarked cars, two minutes away.
Tara’s phone rang. He hoped it was Zoya, with Pia’s location.
Tara was about to accept the call when Arnav grasped her hand. “If it is them, ask to speak to her.”
He swiped the screen and put the call on speaker.
“Come alone.” The disembodied words from the phone filled the vehicle, the tone steeped in menace. Arnav longed to throttle the owner of that voice, but all he did was squeeze Tara’s trembling hand, and mouth the word “Ask.”
“How do I know you have her?” Tara’s voice wavered, but she managed to say the words. Silence followed her question.
“Ma! Let me go . . . Ma!” A shrill voice rang out before it was silenced. His daughter. The very first time he’d heard her.
“Don’t be late. Indraprastha Entrance.” The line went dead.
9:50 p.m.
They definitely had Pia with them. If Ali sent in Pia’s live location in the next three minutes, they had a chance—Naik was stationed nearby.
“Hold on,” Arnav said. “We’ll get her position.”
“They have her.” Tara’s voice was steady. “They want me. I’ll go to them.”
And what of me, he yearned to ask her. Do you not need both Pia and me? You’ll walk away once again, but what do you want me to do without you?
He merely said, “How do you know they will let Pia go? What if they take both of you?”
According to Ali, Pia was outside Mumbai, not here at Borivali Station.
“That’s our daughter.” Tara grabbed the door handle and fought to open it.
“It is 9:52. Give it two more minutes.” Arnav willed Ali to call but his screen remained dark. Borivali Station near the Indraprastha Entrance was a rapid deluge of people, especially on Choti Diwali night. Naik had a man monitoring the CCTV cameras at all entries and exits, but it was small comfort to Arnav. He double-checked the tracker watch and its connected app on his phone.
“It will take me time to walk to the entrance.” Tara yanked at the handle, but Tukaram had locked the rear doors.
“Please, Tara. Wait.” Arnav gripped her arm, pain in his broken shoulder dizzying him for a moment.
“We’ll lose her.” Tara sobbed once, swallowed, pled with her eyes.
9:54 p.m. No message from Ali. If Tara left any later, she wouldn’t reach the gate by 10:00.
“Naik is asking what we should do,” Tukaram said. “Her men are spaced between here and Indraprastha. Do you have Pia’s location?”
“Unlock the door,” Arnav said to Tukaram. “Tell Naik.”
Tara would be lost within seconds—the only way to navigate the crowd here without being trampled was to slide into the general direction you wanted to go and let the momentum of crushing bodies propel you forward.
He turned to her. “Watch and listen. Try to remember. The men’s faces. Voices. Notice everything. When you’re afraid, breathe.”
He struggled to tell her how he felt. No words came. A tremulous smile and a teary glance from her, and she stepped out. The noisy commuters and shoppers formed a fast-moving river, and she was soon swallowed up.
He gave the tracker app to Tukaram so they could both watch it.
Less than five minutes later, Naik admitted on the speaker, “My men lost her. We should have brought more constables.”
A hundred constables wouldn’t have made a difference in that massive surge of rushing humans.
“They’re moving now.” Tukaram honked to clear his way. “They must have grabbed her before she reached the entrance to be able to leave this fast.”
Arnav should have held on to her the last time she ran, tracked her, found her, and kept her safe. Kept Pia safe. The terror-stricken cry for her mother, right before it was smothered, rang through him.
His phone pinged with a message. Ali had sent his friend’s live location. Madh Island. But it was three minutes too late.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
BILAL
Bilal wished the boy didn’t want the policeman’s girlfriend brought in. The boy’s moods had changed lately. Bilal had tried but failed to reason with him about that poor girl, and her mother. Granted, the boy had not specifically asked for the little girl. It was Vijayan. But now it was done, Bilal couldn’t bring himself to think any further. The boy had asked him to remove most of the instruments. The table remained. And the saw.