“Shhh,” I remind the dead man.Always remind the dead man.“You must be quiet.She’s still out there.She’s…”
The snapping of a twig directly behind me.Myself, twisting around in the howling storm.
Catching the silvery gleam of the machete as it arcs up, up, up.
She’s laughing.Now.Then.Now again.
The machete falls.
But it is someone else who screams in agony.
I BOLT AWAKEjust in time to catch a faint musical chime building to a larger, louder crescendo.My phone, ringing.I fumble around the top of the nightstand for the squawking device, registering the first hint of daylight beyond my window.No more raging storms.No more dying men or murderous females.
Thank God for morning.
I snatch up my cell, suddenly hopeful.
But the number isn’t from Washington.According to my caller ID, it’s Aliah.
And it’s way too early for a social call.
I hit connect in time to hear her rushing demand: “Turn on the TV.Right now.The local news, you need to see this!”
“What?”I drag myself out of bed, feeling like I’ve drowned in a massive sea of mattress.It takes me a minute to find the remote, hit power.
“It’s Sabera,” Aliah rattles out.“She’s on TV!”
“The police found her?”
“No!They’re showing a video of her.The two men killed with a hammer…”
I have a vague memory of hearing about that yesterday.
“They have footage of a woman walking away, her face covered by a headscarf.I know that scarf; I gave it to her as a welcome present.The woman in the video is Sabera.And she’s exiting a murder scene!”
CHAPTER 10
DRINK THIS.”ALIAH SETS Atall glass of frothy white milk in front of me.“Stir first.The cucumber and mint settles to the bottom.You will like it.”
She sets a second glass in front of Daryl, who immediately perks up.“Doogh?”he asks.
“You know Afghan food?”
“I love Afghan food.”
“You just love food,” I mutter, having witnessed a similar display of lust over Genni’s meat loaf last night.I’m not very happy with Daryl right now.
He raises his glass and takes a considering sip.“Salty, with just the right touch of sweet.Excellent.”
I take a swig of my own drink and nearly start choking as a mouthful of brackish yogurt hits the back of my throat, followed by a crushed mint leaf and diced cucumber.“What the… That’s like drinking feta cheese!”I manage to gasp out.
Aliah calmly thumps me on the back.“It is not for everyone.For you”—she nods at Daryl—“I will bring you mantou, the best you ever tasted.Ten minutes.”
She disappears through the swinging door to the rear of the small deli/grocery store, leaving Daryl and me sitting at a table near the window.To our right are several aisles bearing bags of fragrant spices, boxes of bright-colored candies, and containers of every kind of nut, chickpea, and dried fruit imaginable.I recognize the white mulberries from my visit to Aliah’s apartment.Daryl, on the other hand, nods thoughtfully at every other item, then stacks several selections near the register for our departure.
I’m still mad at him.
Aliah owns the Afghan deli.Apparently, her help doesn’t arrive till noon, so she requested that I meet her here around eleven.Which I thought was perfect.Gave me plenty of time to visit the crime scene and check out the supposedly abandoned warehouse where the two murder victims were found.I also planned on identifying the location of the camera that caught Sabera on video, then continue walking in the direction she had headed.Made total sense to me.When looking for a missing person, always good to start with their last-known location.
