Page 89 of The Matchmaker

I thanked the investigator. I told him it was a relief. Borzu was my trusted employee. He had no reason to deceive me. But, eyeing the broken tracker in my purse, I wish I could feel relief.

—

I park at the agency parking lot. I’m so distracted, I barely notice Fiona keeping pace with my brisk walk until I reach the agency’s glass entrance door. Borzu’s inside. He’s at his computer.

Amara’s PI said nothing suspicious had turned up so far, but…

I turn to Fiona. “I know you like to stay outside to survey the perimeter, but do you mind hanging out inside the agency with me today?”

“My pleasure,” she replies.

Borzu startles when the bell chimes overhead.

“Nura. What are you doing here?”

Borzu’s clean. He’s done nothing wrong.

But then why does he look like a deer in headlights?

“Did I interrupt you?” I ask.

“No, of course not. I…I was catching up on work. I thought you were babysitting today.”

“That’s not until a bit later.”

He’s dyed his hair blue to match his long-sleeved cerulean-colored shirt. I notice for the first time the Movado watch on his wrist. Gucci sunglasses rest by his computer. None of this necessarily means anything. Sure, it’s a new habit, but he’s paid well enough to afford all of these luxuries without blinking. I’ve worked with him for years. He’s never given me a minute of doubt.

And yet—my car was hacked. My location was tracked. The PI said nothing seems amiss, but Borzu is a master at surveillance, which means he’d be a pro at getting around attempts to surveil him.

I need to find out for myself.

I place the device on his desk. Fix my gaze on him.

“Where’d you get this?” He frowns at the tracker.

“Take a wild guess.”

He lifts it and turns it over. Looks up at me incredulously. “Was it on your car?”

“I found it there yesterday morning.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He examines it more closely, then wrinkles his nose. “This is such a basic one.”

“As basic as it might be, it worked.”

He squints at something on the device, then types on his computer.

“It’s from Amazon.” He points to the identical item online. “It’s at least five years old. There’s no way someone bought it from a brick-and-mortar.” He scratches his head. “I don’t get it. Why would anyone go through the hassle of getting this one? There’s way more sophisticated stuff on the market for only a little more money.”

I look at his perplexed expression. My heart hammers in my chest. I need to say it. Address it full on. It’s the only way to truly know.

“Borzu, what’s with all the lifestyle changes? The expensive watch. The fancy coffee machine and new furniture in your condo. The Tesla. What’s going on?”

His relaxed demeanor vanishes. He studies his lap. “Yeah. So. There’s, um, a few things we need to talk about. I keep meaning to. It’s just…with everything going on, the timing’s never been right.”

“Now’s as good a time as any.”

“I made an app.”

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