She’d understood later that scams were the addiction he couldn’t kick.
“Mira. Come here.”
She turned to find Naveen kneeling next to the chest in front of the couch. A quilt lay on the floor next to him. He glanced up at her. “These things look personal.”
She came to crouch next to him. “Any diamonds?”
“Fingers crossed.”
She sifted through the contents of the trunk. Please let there be priceless jewelry in here.
She carefully lifted some plastic-wrapped fabric and gently shook it out of its sleeve. Not just fabric, but a blue silk sari, shot with gold thread.
She put it aside and dug into the box, intrigued. She’d never seen this chest before. The box itself was lovely, lined with satin. There were matching heels inside, blue and gold, and a few more saris. A silver tea set and plates were wrapped in bubble wrap. More bangles than she could ever wear. There were also dresses, semi-stitched and studded with crystals, and at the bottom of the chest, a red-and-gold sari.
It was the last things that jogged her memory of the photo she had managed to hide of her parents, getting married in Mumbai right before her dad had brought her mom to America. Her mom had worn this sari for her wedding. “Some of these might be my mom’s things.” Very carefully, she replaced the items she’d taken out. Everything smelled like mothballs. Her father hadn’t taken care of much, but he had taken care of these items.
“Looks like a dowry chest.”
“What?”
“An archaic custom, but still practiced in some places, even if having a dowry’s not really a thing. My grandparents made one for my cousin. Filled it with items from the time she was born.” He shifted. “Most of the stuff either didn’t fit or she didn’t care for it by the time she was old enough to get married.”
“I can’t imagine my dad creating a dowry chest for us.” A panic room, sure, not a collection of items to give her and Sejal when they got married. From what she could remember, he’d never even talked about them having families of their own. He probably couldn’t imagine a future where they didn’t revolve around him like satellite planets.
“Maybe your mom did it?”
That was possible. She hadn’t known her mom or her mom’s family well enough to know what she was like or what customs she’d followed. Sejal had claimed to have memories of their mother, and she’d told her stories when she was young, about how much fun she was, how their house had been full of parties and excitement, but Sejal had been only five when their parent died, so her memories were suspect.
She didn’t want to think about her mother too much, because then she’d have to think about what Naveen had said. It was handy to blame her dead mother for her dad’s subsequent behavior, but he was right, it was also suspicious.
What he’d said about his mom had surprised her. She’d gotten the impression Shweta had loved her late husband—the woman had photos of him all over the mansion—but she never would have pictured the self-possessed, reserved woman so distraught.
It was odd to think of her and Naveen having something in common with their parents.
“Anyway, no jewelry here, and definitely no diamond necklace.”
Naveen turned around to face the couch and lifted the cushions. “I doubt anyone would hide diamonds in a couch, but maybe there’s some quarters in here that we can use for a pay phone. Agent Stuart didn’t have any change in his wallet.”
“If we can find a pay phone. I haven’t seen a functional one in ages.” She both empathized with and was jealous of Naveen’s desire to get in touch with his family. Empathized because she wished more than anything that she could call Christine right now and get a good dose of tough love and kindness. Jealous because her only blood family was being held captive.
The jealousy made her feel small. She liked Naveen’s family, and the last thing she wanted was for more innocents to get dragged into her dad’s mess.
His stillness caught her attention. “What?” She shut the lid to the chest and twisted.
He reached under the couch cushion and pulled out a nearly obsolete cell phone. “Jackpot.” He pressed the button on the side, and to her surprise, it powered on with a chime.
“It kept its charge all this time?”
Naveen turned it around. “It’s got an extra battery pack on it.”
A low hum of excitement rose in her. “It must be important, then.”
“It’s password protected. Do you know what his password might be?”
“How would I know my dad’s password?”
He looked at her like that was absurd. “I know my mom’s passwords for everything. She’s been using the same variations for as long as I can remember.”
“That’s so not secure.”
“Trust me, I know. But if she uses a more complicated one, then I get twelve calls a day asking if I remember what it is, and that’s not fun either.”
Christine had used to bitch about the same thing. This was one of those shared cultural values she couldn’t relate to, she supposed. “My dad was good at memorizing long strings of random letters and numbers. I won’t be able to get into it.”
“Let’s try your birthday, or your mom’s birthday.” Shockingly, he typed without waiting for the numbers.
He still remembers your birthday.
Unimportant. He was as detail oriented as she was. Just because they hadn’t been together long enough to celebrate her birthday didn’t mean he couldn’t remember four digits.
The phone’s screen shook in denied access, and he looked at her expectantly. She humored him. “October 24.”
He didn’t hear the year, because he’d paused in typing. “10/24. That’s the number on the locker.”
Excitement rose inside her. “Huh. I didn’t realize that.”
There was a second where she thought they’d cracked it, but the phone merely vibrated again.
“What about your sister’s birthday?”
“I promise, it won’t be something so simple.” She provided it anyway, and of course it didn’t work.
“Do you know someone good enough with tech who could get us into this?”
The first person that popped into her head wasn’t a viable one. She shoved her too big jacket up her arms. She wasn’t still cold, but she didn’t want to take it off yet. It gave her an odd sense of comfort, despite it being her father’s. “You grew up in the Bay Area. Surely you have a host of hacker friends.”
“No one I can talk to without a phone or another way to get their contact information. You don’t know anyone?”
She raked her hair back from her face. At some point, she’d have to redo her hair, but the last thing she wanted was the added vulnerability of taking the mass down in front of him to fix it. “I know someone. But it’s been a while since I talked to them.”
“How long is a while?”
“Since I left this city.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with them?” When she hesitated, he pushed. “This is our only clue right now. This could be our map.”
“I know where she lived. But it’s been years, she could have moved.”