Page 70 of The Matchmaker

The subject heading:You win.

With a trembling hand, I click the email.

While my first and most ardent wish would have been for you to leave me alone, it is clear that will not be happening. I’ll consider your offer to cooperate if we can arrange for your questions to arrive over email. My life is extremely busy and I do not have the time nor space to set aside to meet you.

“I take it you didn’t send this?” he says into the silence.

“No. I don’t use Yahoo Mail.”

“Ah. Well, that explains a lot.” He clears his throat. “Shit. This is…this is wild.”

He keeps talking, but blood throbs in my ears.It’s over. It’s supposed to be over.Farhan is dead. Who is sending emails impersonating me? Could it be Basit, in a sick twist of vengeance? Or does someone just want to watch me squirm? And if Logan fell for it, how many others have gotten emails they believe to be from me?

“This will make for some fun clicks when your piece posts, won’t it?”

“Nura.” He looks me square in the eyes. “I’m not interested in gotcha journalism. Ialsohappen to find it highly disturbing that someone impersonated you. I’m keeping up with the online chatter,” he continues, “and I have a police source who’s told me you were involved on the night of Farhan’s death. I also know that it was an associate of yours who killed him. I’m not trying to be salacious, but it’s clear there’s a story with a capital S here. Wouldn’t it be helpful to have a journalist on your side? To get the story down right?”

“You mean you.”

“I won’t be the only one making the connections; it’s only a matter of time before all of this is public information. I’m here because I want to help you. Really.” He glances around and then at me. “To be frank, I’m concerned. Whoever sent me that email is trying to con me too.”

“Whoever it is, their sights are set on me, don’t worry. I—I have to go.”

“Nura. Please. We need to talk. I have—”

“Please.” I hold up a hand. My voice cracks. “Not now.”

I walk away. He does not follow.

Something is wrong,I text Borzu once I’m safely inside my car.Are you home? I can come to you.

I turn on the car and try to keep my hands steady. I thought I was safe. I thought the threat of danger was behind me. Now the small sense of security I’d allowed myself to feel is gone. There’s no way I can go back to my place tonight. Not after seeing this.

The engine rumbles to life. I pull out of the parking lot. The two-lane road is deserted. There is no city light pollution. No streetlamps and no stars. The moon is shrouded by clouds. I flip on my high beams.

My conversation with Logan roils inside of me. Someone at the police station leaked the details about Farhan’s death to him. It was only a matter of time, I know that. It’s like he said, this information will all go public eventually. But it’s happening sooner than I expected. Or at least sooner than I feel ready for. My stomach hurts thinking about Darcy. When she finds out the press is sniffing around, it will turn her world upside down, but I can’t keep it from her. I’ll call her from Borzu’s place. She needs to hear this from me.

A whirring sound buzzes in the car. I graze my fingers over the dashboard, but before I can locate the source of the sound, a sudden stream of wiper fluid floods the windshield, blurring my vision.

What the hell?

I grip the steering wheel. How did I hit the fluid? I press the wipers but nothing happens. Instead, another stream attacks the windshield.

This can’t be happening. It’s pitch black outside and I’m in the middle of nowhere. Again, I slam the levers to activate the wipers. Nothing.It’s fine,I try to tell myself as panic builds.Cars can glitch. I’ll pull over. Troubleshoot.Peering through theglass, I try to make out a safe spot to stop through the blurred screen. Suddenly, my dashboard lights up. A woman’s operatic falsetto blasts through the speakers.

My ears ring. My very smart car decides to completely fall apart now, on a country road in the middle of nowhere? Through the streaming liquid blasting the windshield, I make out a spot to park a few paces ahead. The hill starts sloping downward. I slam on the brakes. Nothing happens. There’s no resistance. It’s as though there are no brakes at all.

Tears stream down my face. My teeth chatter. My entire body is shaking. How is this happening?

Abruptly, the music stops. Haunting silence rings in my ears. The car bounces harder and harder over bumps in the road, gathering more speed as it careens downhill. The landscape shifts around me.

Lights flash on the other side of the road—a car coming at me. The odometer won’t stop climbing. And now I’m beelining toward the oncoming car. I jerk the wheel away. My car swerves. Lurches toward what appears to be a glowing reflection on an iron gate, getting brighter and brighter.

Oh sh—

Twenty-one

Fluorescent lights blast onto my face. I blink, groggily opening my eyes wider. The world is bright and spinning….

---