Page 84 of The Matchmaker

…Nura. WTF?! We spoke nearly every day when you wanted my money, but now you’re nowhere to be found….

…If you could find the time to cash my payment, I think you could find the time to deign to reply to at least one of my emails?…

…I know life can get busy, but it’s been a month?! I’d appreciate it if you could confirm you received this email….

It’s like an infinite scroll of complaints. Clients I’ve never heard of, asking for updates on their cases. Requesting meetings. Accusing me of taking their money and running. But their accusations don’t shake me quite as deeply as seeing what are presumably my responses.

Jenny, you need to be patient. I have a long list of clients and I work with them in the order that they signed up.

Don’t make me regret taking you on, John. If you don’t like how I do things, you’re welcome to look for your soulmate elsewhere.

Dear Simran, as I have explained to you many times before already, I’m diving deep to get a list of partners set up for you, but these things take time. I have a few exceptionalpeople in mind that I think might just be perfect for you, but if you keep harassing me, I can’t work with you anymore. More soon. Best, Nura

Best, Nura.My pulse pounds in my throat.

“I’ve never worked with these people,” I manage to say. “These replies here, they aren’t from me. I didn’t write these.”

He looks quietly at me for a second. Then he says, “I believe you.”

“I don’t understand….” My voice shakes. “Why is this happening? Who is doing this?”

“That’s what I want to know too.” He takes a step closer to me. “Let’s set up a real meeting, Nura. I’ll show you everything I have. I have a lot more information on my computer. Things I’ve printed out. Let’s figure out what’s going on. Together.”

“I’ve pushed you away so many times at this point. Why do you want to help me?”

“Nura! Because this is seriously fucked up. I do features. Profiles. I wanted to do a profile on you. Clearly, I’ve stumbled into something way deeper. Someone really wants me to bring you down. I want to know who. And why they’re using me as a pawn. I’m not publishing a word until I can figure out what bigger play is going on here.” He hesitates. “Also, not to overstep here, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you to be careful.”

“I’d say I’m being as careful as I can.” I nod toward Fiona.

He gives her a nervous smile, then looks back at me. “Even still. I’d make sure no one’s tracking your whereabouts.”

“I’m obviously getting tracked. You’re here, aren’t you?”

He points to the Subaru rental I’m standing next to. “Is this your car?”

“My employee Borzu checked it,” I tell him. “Before I left work yesterday, he inspected the whole vehicle and made sure it was clean.”

He walks up to the car, leans down, cranes his neck, and pulls out a dark circular object. He holds it out to me. “Haven’t seen a real-live tracker in some time,” he says.

“But he checked the car yesterday evening,” I say numbly as he hands it to me.

Borzu?

No. No. Borzu can’t be behind this.

And yet—there’s a tracker there. How did a tracking device get attached after he’d cleared the Subaru as safe? Had I even checked under the car after he looked? I wouldn’t have. I trust him.

“I don’t have a motive for you, but it’s obvious that someone wants to see you go down,” says Logan. “They’ve made me a part of this story too now. Until I know what they’re after, I’m doing my best to hold off and stay quiet. I don’t like being someone’s puppet. I want to find out what’s going on and what their angle is.”

“It’ll be a great story,” I say bitterly.

“It could be. But right now, I need to know what the hell is going on for my own sake. And don’t take this the wrong way, but considering the sensitive information I’m receiving, my money’s on the fact that it’s someone close to you.”

I hate how easily the words leave his mouth. As though he’s telling me the sky is blue. Except, he’s right.

But it makes no sense. Why would Borzu do this? My trusted circle is small because I’m careful whom I let inside. Even if hacking into a car and trailing my location are things Borzu could do in his sleep, it still doesn’t explainwhy.

I think back to his expensive coffee maker. The brand-new car with the glass ceiling. The cinder block shelves long gone, replaced by contemporary bookcases.

---