“I have two other children.I love Zahra, but I can’t put their lives in danger.What if… what if?”Her gaze goes to Aliah, who sighs heavily.
“I will take Zahra.She knows me, and even if that man has Sabera and Isaad’s address, there’s no reason for him have to mine.Once Isaad returns, he can find us.”
“You’re still certain Isaad’s coming back?”I ask.
Even Aliah seems startled by my doubt.“Of course.Family is everything.”
I wish I shared her optimism.And I really wished I knew what was in that box, that made him hand over his daughter and vanish in the wind.“The private courier.”I turn to Nageenah.“Can you remember anything about him?Logo on a shirt, identifying ball cap, color of car?”
Nageenah shakes her head.“He drove a black vehicle.Something rugged.That’s all I remember.”
“A lock to a key for a key that has no lock,” I ponder out loud.“Does that sound familiar to anyone?”
I receive three blank stares.
“Where did you hear that?”Detective Marc.
“Zahra said it to me.According to her, I must find it.”
“A four-year-old recited that?”
“With an exceptional memory.”I nod toward Nageenah.“Meaning Zahra has read or heard that before.A book?A poem?A note?”
Still three blank stares.
“Well.”I rise to standing.“I know what I’m doing next.When you finally identify the two victims in the warehouse, you’ll let me know?”
“I sure as hell will not,” Detective Marc assures me.
“Come on now, there’s no use fighting my charms.You’ll need to run the names by Aliah and Nageenah to see if they recognize them from the Afghan community.Once you do that, they’ll share the information with me.Might as well start by dialing direct and save us all a bunch of time.”
He scowls.“Who are you again?”
I consider the matter seriously.“I’m a person who’s terrified of snakes yet due to feed a bunch of pythons dinner later tonight.I’m a woman waiting for a call from a man I instructed not to call me.But mostly… mostly right now, I’m a recovering alcoholic who desperately wants to crack open an ice-cold beer.Because I’m tired and frustrated.And it’s too damn hot outside.And oh, yeah, it’s a day that ends in Y.
“In other words, I’m someone who needs to get back to work in ways I don’t expect the rest of you to understand.”
I pause, study the good detective.“How much trouble do you think Sabera Ahmadi is in?”
Detective Marc hesitates.
Death by hammer times two, never a good thing.Attempted child abduction, also quite terrible.
“Don’t be a stranger, Detective,” I murmur.Then I head out of the room to find Daryl.
CHAPTER 14
MY MOTHER ADVISED THAT TOkeep myself safe, I should peer into other people’s souls but never let them see mine.
My father said in the case of danger, I should find a man.Specifically, his dear friend Professor Ahmadi, who would always take care of me.
I think of these instructions now as I weave my way frantically through the streets of Kabul, dodging milling families, umbrella-topped food carts, and a pile of blocked vehicles honking furiously at one another.Some people draw back from the strange sight of a traditionally garbed female in a dark head covering running around with a long gun.Most are too consumed by their own panic to notice.
I dash behind a line of market stalls in various states of packing.Race through another narrow alley, then another.I careen into the wider cross street in time to discover a black-turbaned Taliban fighter standing on the other side of the jammed street.From across the way, he takes me in, a lone female, and smiles.His gaze falls upon my rifle.His smile grows.
I don’t know what to do.Raise my weapon threateningly?Flee back the way I’d come?
Except there’s a press of people behind me as well.Everyone trying to pour into the main avenues.Everyone desperate to escape.