Quiet in Her Bones Singh, Nalini (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) 📖

having none of it. “What’s he saying about Sarah?”

“He’s rambling, raving as a result of drugs. I didn’t say anything because I know how much you like him, but Ishaan says his drug habit is spiraling out of control.”

I parted my lips to speak, then turned and began digging again.

“Aarav.” Calvin’s voice. “Stop.”

“Why?” Diana asked. “Leave him be. He’s not doing any ­harm—­he can’t even get out of there without help. Leave him ­be—­we’ll go get Ishaan.”

“He’s ruining your rose garden.” Calvin’s voice was closer now. “I said stop!”

I spun back, ready to dodge another attack, but Diana’s voice cut through the night like a sharpened blade. “Why can’t Aarav dig, Cal?” Brittle words. “What did you do to Sarah?”

My eyes still acclimatized to the moonlit scene above my head, I saw the exact moment when Calvin made up his mind. Shifting his balance, he took a step forward and began to bring up the shovel again, this time to swing at Diana. Both of them seemed to have forgotten I was there. Screaming a wordless cry, I thrust the top end of my shovel out of the hole and toward Calvin’s knees.

I hit with little force. But it was enough.

He went down hard just as my foot gave up, shooting pain through my leg, searing my brain with agony and crumpling me to the dirt in a cramped position that left me helpless and exposed. The last thing I saw before my brain stopped was a silver streak launching itself at Calvin’s fallen form, a woman’s scream shattering the night.

61

Blue and red lights flashed against my retinas, dull color against the fog that was my vision. I stared uncomprehendingly at the white tent several ­white-­suited people were putting up around Diana’s rose garden.

Ghosts in a ghost tent.

“Don’t let this slide off, honey. You need to stay warm.” Firm brown hands pulled a silvery blanket around my seated form, the fabric reminding me ­of …

“Diana.” It came out a rasp. “Is Diana all right?”

The voice that answered didn’t come from the plump woman who’d put the blanket around me. It was harder, firmer. My brain supplied a name: Constable Sefina Neri. “Mrs. Liu is a little bruised but otherwise fine. Physically at least.”

I looked to the left, in the direction of her voice. She was haloed in the lights from the police vehicles behind her, her body clad in a heavy ­high-­visibility jacket and her hair pulled back in an untidy knot.

“Did we wake you?” Neri asked.

“What?” I couldn’t quite put the pieces together, images and thoughts floating away like drifts of snow. “Diana? Hurt?”

Her look was piercing. “No.” She enunciated the word very carefully. “Beau and Mia Liu, and Ariki Henare, all woke and came to her aid. Diana has no major injuries.”

“Pink roses,” I muttered.

“I can’t tell if you’re in shock, or zoned out.” A glance over my head. “Is he high or did he take a blow to the head?”

“No knock that I’ve been able to see.” The gentler, warmer, older voice. “But he’s not mentally present. You know your business, Sefi, but I don’t think you should be talking to him now if you want anything admissible.”

I saw people beyond the rim of painful light. Isaac, that was Isaac. Why was Mellie wearing a bright green blanket? “Where’s Phil?”

“Phil?” Neri’s tone was confused. “You mean Isaac Brennan’s father? He’s in an ­elder-­care facility. Do you believe he knows something about this?”

Her words holding no meaning for me, I stared at the ghost tent. “Sarah’s down here,” I got out past the thickness of my tongue. “He buried her there. Ghost Sarah in her ghost house. Ghost gifts.”

“Shit. Take him in.” Neri was already turning away. “I’ll tell Regan he’s not fit to be interviewed.”

I went to ask her something, tell her something, but my tongue was too fat and my head full of blackness.

62

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I lifted heavy lids, my lips so dry and cracked that they felt alien.

“Here.” A sliver of ice cold against my mouth, droplets of water seeping in. I sucked desperately at one piece, then the next, until at last, I could swallow, could focus, could see again.

Lily’s dark eyes looked down at me, her hair framing her face in strands of black silk.

“What?”

Somehow, she understood. “Ambulance brought you to the hospital two days ago,” she told me, the comforting scents of sugar and coffee in her every movement. “How much do you remember?”

Shovels, fighting, a woman made of fluid silver. “Calvin,” I croaked.

“Yup. No one saw that ­coming—­except you, apparently.” She brushed my hair off my forehead. “He’s in police custody.”

The curtains parted before I could ask her anything else, and I saw Neri and Regan. Lily scowled. “He’s barely awake. Go away.”

“No.” I coughed. “I want to speak to them.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Lily said to the cops with steely authority. “I’ll tell the nurses so they know to come kick you out.”

“Did you find Sarah?” I asked as she left, the curtain swinging behind her.

“Yes.” Detective Regan sat down in the chair Lily had vacated, while Neri moved around a second chair so I could see them both.

“We need to take your statement,” Regan continued, purple shadows under his eyes and his skin even paler than usual. “After that, you can ask us more questions and we’ll tell you what we know.”

I had no reason to hold back now. I told them all I knew. All I remembered.

“My head isn’t right,” I admitted again afterward. “My memories are patchy and there’s a film or fog over everything. My neurosurgeon was right to worry.”

The two cops exchanged a look before Regan gave a small nod. Neri shifted her attention to me. “There are indications someone tampered with your food. Labs are still working on exactly what was added, but it’s nothing you should’ve been consuming alongside your prescribed painkillers and other medications.”

Nausea battled with relief. “Who? Shanti? No, it can’t have been her.”

“It was in the fudge. Possibly also in