Thursday. Luxe Ibiza, Hostel, Ibiza.
NASAR STUDIED HIS ORDERS.
No reply to his phone call or even a text. Then he gets this?
He scanned the email directions again.
This wasn't fucking happening.
Nasar picked up his phone. He wanted to call, but figured a voicemail was too easy to ignore. A text, if glimpsed, could have the desired reaction.
Per your email, I'm not showing up if we don't talk.
Nasar hit send. He swallowed, fully aware that he'd just committed to this course of action, then sat back.
He'd done more digging into Smith.
There was no way the man could be responsible for killing Nasar's family. The timelines were wrong. Smith had no reason to lie to Nasar over beers and casual conversation. He didn't know the loss Nasar had suffered. They were just two guys who liked the same bar and had happened to meet up a few times.
Which meant someone had lied to Nasar.
Was it Zak and Miran? Or someone else?