“Come on, Arya, I know what that means,” Sania frowned, pointing towards the bracelet that was getting restlessly twisted.
“You remember,” Arya raised one of her brows, feeling surprised.
“Of course, you are always an open book to me.”
“Now, I remember where all my trauma stemmed from.” Arya made a frowning face before breaking out into a silly smile.
After a brief smile, Sania went back to her question, “What is bothering you?”
Arya glanced towards the answering machine.
“Sam’s message?” Sania asked, following Arya’s gaze.
Arya nodded and, in a low voice, said, “The apology seemed to be quite elaborate for a trivial argument.”
“What are you implying?” Sania held her gaze on Arya, searching for the hidden question.
“Are you saying – he ran away?” Sania frowned, feeling exasperated.
Realizing she ruffled Sania’s sentiments, Arya motioned both her hands up to surrender. “My bad, my bad.”
“You know, if you knew him, you wouldn’t have even entertained that question. He loved me.” Sania shifted her eyes from Arya towards her belly and said, “More than that, he loved this little girl.”
“You are right; I don’t know him. Can we forget that I broached that possibility?” Arya pleaded with her eyes, making a sad face.
“For old times’ sake, I am calling that your mulligan.” Sania relaxed her stiff shoulders and took a deep breath. “This whole thing has me wound up pretty tight; I shouldn’t have gone after you like that.” Sania appeared to understand that Arya was just trying to do her job.
Sania took Arya’s hands and asked, “What were you about to ask before I went off on you? Was it about the voicemail?”
Arya nodded. “Did you call back?”
“Yes, but not right away. I must have turned down the volume on the phone upstairs; I didn’t hear the call. I noticed it only in the morning,” Sania paused, her eyes looking up as she tried to recollect the timing. “I think I called him around 3:15 in the morning when I woke up to pee.”
“3:15,” Arya repeated, as she wrote down on her pocket notebook.
“I am certain as I stared at the wall clock in the master bathroom,” Sania said confidently.
“Does it help?” Sania asked, eyeing Arya.
“Yes. Every little detail helps in cases like this,” Arya said reassuringly. From training, Arya knew that it is essential to encourage and reassure family members. Only when they feel comfortable and helping with the progress, they would remember little details – information that invariably cracks open the case. Only on TV shows would you invariably have an ‘aha’ moment in the first thirty minutes. But in real situations, it is always a slog, and, most commonly, information considered minutia or minor mistakes committed by perpetrators lead to arrests.
“Wait, how did you know where to call him?” Arya asked suddenly, realizing Sania had earlier mentioned that she didn’t know the hotel Sam stayed in Los Angeles.
“Sam’s phone,” Sania said flatly before adding, “Sam had a mobile phone.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” Arya couldn’t believe that she didn’t think of it before. Nowadays, almost everyone of importance carries one. Given Sam’s job, it would be imperative for him to have a mobile.
Sania went on to share further details about Sam’s mobile: phone number, model, color, and for how long Sam had that same mobile device and number.
“Did he call you back after that?” Arya asked.
“No. He never did,” Sania said glumly.
“Did you call later?”
“Yes, many times.”
“Do you remember the times, even if it is just an approximate?” Arya wanted to collect as much information as possible when it was fresh in Sania’s mind.
“Hmm. I must have called at least 10 times. I am not sure if I remember the exact time; I became panicked when I saw the towers come down,” Sania responded, expressing sorrow.
“I understand this could be overwhelming. Just think and answer what you remember,” Arya said calmly, trying to reassure and guide Sania towards that fateful day.
Sania closed her eyes, trying to walk herself back to that morning. “Sometime before 8:30. I remember because it was before the first tower got hit. He didn’t answer, and I left him a voicemail asking him to call me back.”
Arya noted down the time and motioned for Sania to continue.
“When the second tower got hit, I got scared. I went nuts. I knew Sam had some friends in that building, and I started worrying about them. Sam being in LA, I knew he would be sleeping, so I tried him again. I wanted to let him know before he sees it on the news.”
“So… Did Sam answer?”
Sania shook her head. “No, it was voicemail again. I was glued to the TV, just like everyone on the coast, trying to understand what the hell was happening. And then it happened. The South Tower went down.” Sania sounded jittery - scared and astonished. She was pulling those memories from her head and reliving them again.
“I just couldn’t believe it,” Sania said in a high-pitched tone. “One minute, I stood frozen, and the next minute, I was scrambling around like a maniac. I just couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Sania’s experience was not foreign to Arya or to millions of other people. The whole country was in shock and couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw the towers go down. That moment would forever be etched in everyone’s memory.
“He didn’t answer again. As I was cursing on his voicemail, the unimaginable happened again: The North Tower collapsed. I gasped; all those poor people. I just couldn’t believe it.” Sania explained the roller coaster of emotions she had felt; shock, desperation, deep sorrow, anger, vengeance, anxiety, fear…. Again, those feelings were not unique to Sania; it was felt by every American across the great nation.
The tears started to well up in Arya’s eyes. As Sania narrated her experience, it transported Arya to that ill-fated day. The day started just like any other day for Arya. Living single, she had picked up the luxury of experimenting pleasures with different people. On that doomsday, she woke up next to a loser whose name she didn’t even know. She met him at a bar downtown, playing a game of pool. The downside or upside of alcohol, depending on how you look at it, was that she ended up sleeping with him. As the sun leaked into her bedroom, she realized that she not only slept with the loser but also brought him to her home. Just like how she had dealt with situations like this before, she woke him with a firm nudge and kicked him out before her partner, Edgar James, knocked on her door. The plan almost worked; the loser found his clothes, she hurried him to the door and pushed him towards the stairs, and, when it all seemed to work, it went awry. Edgar was leaning by his car, calmly sipping his morning joe and glancing towards the stairs as the loser rushed down. It would have been awkward if it was the first time, but, given that they had both lost count of similar encounters, they ended up exchanging looks and broke out laughing.
She wished the day would have stayed the same, silly and humorous. However, it didn’t.
Edgar was driving, and Arya was riding shotgun, when it all happened. They listened to the first tower being hit on the radio, and she thought immediately, “What a screwup – the pilot must be wasted to pull such an accident.” However, the feeling didn’t last long. When the second plane hit the south tower, they both knew instinctively the country was under attack. It was a calculated and deliberate hit on the nation. At that point, Arya didn’t know who, but she knew in the gut that it was not over. They pulled next to a deli that had a television on and watched the whole tragedy go down. Towers were on fire, the Pentagon was filled with smoke, people were jumping off the towers, and finally, the unthinkable – the towers crumbling.
The whole place went silent; it almost felt that everyone was in a dream. No one could believe what had just happened. How could this happen? This was not the 60’s; the Cold War was over, the good guys trium
phed, and the Red Army lost. The whole generation knew nothing about the fear of being hit by an enemy on their soil. This was not supposed to happen. Everyone was in shock; their mouths dropped, heads shook in disbelief, and tears were streaming down on their faces. It was a moment that everyone would replay in their head for years to come.
“And I called again, again, and again. But Sam never picked up.” Sania’s voice hauled Arya back to the present.
Arya rubbed her temples and narrowed her eyes as a way to regain focus. “So, he never called you after the night he left Philly?” Arya asked, pulling the conversation back to the night in question.
Sania nodded slowly, “Yes.”
“Did you leave a voicemail?”
Sania nodded.
“Every time?”
“No, not every time. I think only the first couple of times and then once after the towers collapsed.”
“When was the last time you called him?”
“When I got back from the station today,” Sania answered immediately.
“Did you leave a voicemail?”
“No, it said it was full,” Sania responded in a low voice.
“Okay, do you remember when was the last time that it didn’t give a voicemail full message?” Arya wanted to confirm the timeline. It might be useful later to determine if Sam was checking his voicemail in Los Angeles and just didn’t respond to any of Sania’s calls.
Sania lowered her head and placed both her hands on top of the head as she tried to focus hard. After a moment, she shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t know the exact time. Is it important for finding Sam?”
Arya reassuringly shook her head. “It’s okay; don’t fret about it. We have other ways to find out about Sam’s call logs, and we will find the answers we need. So, don’t worry about it.”
Sania half-smiled, feeling reassured.
“You earlier said that he often traveled for work. Where does Sam work?”
“Aries Financials,” Sania said flatly.
Arya silently mouthed the company’s name as she wrote it down on her notebook.
“Do you know them?” Sania asked, eyeing Arya.
“Yes, I do.” Arya glanced up towards Sania and said, “CNBC is my guilty pleasure. I watch them sometimes to keep me updated.”
“Updated? Oh, I almost forgot that you are a trust fund baby,” Sania exclaimed.
“Don’t say that. I hate that term – trust fund baby,” Arya mouthed the term mockingly.
“I forgot we used to call you Ms. Richie,” Sania laughed.
“I hate that name too.” Arya scowled.
“Seriously, why the heck are you working this job? If I am you, I would be sipping mojitos in the Caribbean or one of those exotic Greek islands.”
“Trust me, I tried, and it gets boring so fast,” Arya expressed dramatically.
“Boring!” Sania raised her brows, “You know who says that? Only people who are filthy rich. For commoners like me, that sounds like paradise.” Sania closed her eyes, imagining herself tanning on a white sand beach with rum in her hand.
“You know what? If I did that, I wouldn’t have met you now.”
“You know I am so glad. I can’t think of anyone better to help me under these circumstances,” Sania said, expressing her genuine feelings.
Arya nodded with an acknowledging smile before asking, “What exactly did he do in Aries Financials?”
“Trading desk.”
“Wow, that should have been exciting,” Arya remarked.
“Sure, for him. If you ask me, I hated it.”
Arya raised her brows.
“The late hours and the constant trips, crisscrossing the country. Sam was gone a lot, and it put a strain on our marriage.”
Arya nodded, understanding the situation. Given her line of work, she has seen similar stress being placed on many of her fellow officers. When you work as a cop, you become a cop — it becomes your identity. The work consumes you — the evil you hunt has a way to haunt you, irrespective of whether you are on the clock or not.
Arya wanted to prod more about the ‘strain on the marriage’ that Sania just revealed. However, she knew the timing might not be right. Sania earlier blew her casket when that possibility was discussed, and Arya thought it would be prudent to park that discussion for later.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Arya contemplated her next question.
“Did you call them yesterday?” Arya broke the silence.
“Aries?” Sania asked rhetorically before answering, “Yes, I did, but I didn’t get much. I was not able to reach Sam’s supervisor or HR because of what happened yesterday.”
“You mean the attacks?”
Sania nodded. “They have an office in New York – the south tower. I can’t imagine the loss of life,” Sania said solemnly.
Arya shook her head, expressing her dismay.
“Omar Raqqa. He is Sam’s supervisor on the trading division,” Sania chimed.
Arya mouthed ‘Omar Raqqa’ as she jotted down his name on her pocketbook.
“Do you have his number?” Arya asked. From experience, she knew people who handle money like to throw lavish parties where families get to socialize. Just like she expected, Sania knew Omar Raqqa’s number.
“I called; he hasn’t been picking up,” Sania said, as she provided the phone number.
“I am sure it was a lot to take,” Arya said, referring to the loss Omar’s firm must have suffered when the south tower came down.
“I will give it till tomorrow and try calling him,” Arya said, writing down the phone number.
“Oh, God!” Sania exclaimed suddenly, covering her mouth with both her hands.
“What happened?” Arya was taken aback by the sudden outburst by Sania.
“Poor Omar. Oh no. I can’t believe that I forgot,” Sania said dramatically. “His wife works in New York.”
“South tower?” Arya quickly asked.
“No, no. Thank God, no. She works in the Stock Exchange.”
“Wall Street?” Arya asked, referring to the NYSE.
“Yes. I hope she is okay,” Sania said silently.
“She should be. Wall Street was not impacted by the attacks.”
“I hope so,” Arya closed her eyes; it looked almost like she was praying.
“Do you know them? I mean personally,” Arya asked, seeing the concerned expression on Sania’s face.
Sania nodded. “I met them a few times; they are good people.”
Arya paused her questions about Sam’s work when she noticed Sania’s eyes battling to stay open. Sania had been running on fumes; it had been close to forty-eight hours since she slept. Arya understood it was time for her to stop, especially given Sania was into her thirty-sixth week. The rest of the questions could wait until tomorrow. Anyway, she had enough information to start her investigation. Her first stop – Aries Financials.
Arya reassured Sania one more time about finding Sam before leaving Sania’s house.
When Arya roared her Crown Vic to life, disturbing the stillness of the neighborhood, the time on her dashboard read 11:25.
A few feet away, a man sitting in darkness in a parked silver Honda watched Arya drive away. He pulled a cigarette from the silver stainless steel case, and thoughtfully tapped the case with the cigarette in his hand as he glanced towards Sania’s house. In Sania’s house, the lights downstairs were turned off, and he waited for a few more minutes to see the lights go out upstairs. He then took a long drag, filling his lungs with toxins from the cigarette, and slowly exhaled, closing his eyes, filling the car with smoke. No one needs to tell the man; he knew smoking was not good for him. He and his buddies always considered the warnings on the box as a joke. When a man doesn’t change to his daughter’s tearful plea, there was no way a sign on the box would change the man’s behavior. The days like this – waiting endlessly in a car, surveilling the subject, had made cigarette his friend. It was not just him; most of his buddies on the job h
ave the same vice – Red’s and Jack’s – two benefits that you got as part of your job.
His eyes were closing in as the time stuck midnight. The lights remaining turned off, and it seemed like Sania was not going anywhere. He finished the cigarette in his hand – he lost count of how many he had smoked tonight – before calling it a night and driving away into the darkness.
14
Arya narrowed her eyes, squinting to adjust to the bright sun shining bright and early in the morning. Arya reached inside her car to get her shades – a classic Ray-Ban Aviator; her preferred glasses for the fall. She loved them so much that she has fifteen of them, one in almost every color it was made. She ruffled through the collection and picked the flash green one that goes with her light green top.
“Now we are talking,” Arya said to herself with a smile as she gazed at the Aries Financials building without squinting her eyes.
As Arya approached the front door of the Aries Financials building, she heard her phone buzz. She pulled the phone resting on her belt, and her expression changed to familiarity when she noticed the caller ID on the phone.
“What’s up? You are bright and early,” Arya said on her phone, addressing her partner, Edgar James, on the other end.
“Where are you?” Edgar answered abruptly.
“Wow, wow. Slow down. No greetings for me. Are you a boss man now?” Arya teased Edgar.
Edgar and Arya go way back; they were both at the Academy at the same time and graduated together. Looking in from the outside, Arya and Edgar were as different as chalk and cheese. Edgar loved football, and Arya hated football. Edgar is a hardcore carnivore who loves to eat meat every day, and Arya is a vegetarian. Edgar grew up in a low-income neighborhood, and having money was as foreign as a Greek island, and Arya was affluent - born rich. Edgar is a card-carrying Republican, and Arya is a liberal. Overall the odds were stacked against them to not like each other, but lo and behold! They became best friends.
“Where are you?” Edgar asked.
“Center City; Market and 18th,” Arya announced her location.
“What the hell are you doing in the financial district?” Edgar asked with a surprise.
The Hunt for Truth Page 5
