The why isn’t nearly as important as the who and the where.And given Isaad has now disappeared as well as his wife, I feel we’re losing ground on that front.
There’s movement behind me.Based on Daryl’s beaming smile, I know who’s joined us even before I feel the slight tug on my ponytail.
I twist around in my seat to discover Zahra peering at me with her big gray eyes.Apparently, she’s had a good day in the kitchen, because she’s covered in sugar and flour and is wearing a small smile.
“Hiya,” I say.
“Hiya,” she repeats back.
That officially exhausts my small child vocabulary.Daryl has no such problem.He picks up his empty bowl and dramatically shows it off.“Best firni I ever had,” he declares, then picks up what once was my dish.“Both bowls of it.”
Zahra giggles.I scowl.I would’ve happily finished my pudding if someone hadn’t stolen it.
Daryl remains unrepentant.“Did you make it all by yourself?”he asks Zahra.
She gives a quick shake of her head.
“Next time?”
A shy nod.
The girl wanders around the table to Aliah, then climbs aboard her lap.Aliah wraps her arms around her, resting her cheek atop the child’s dark hair.
I feel a tug inside my chest.The way the four-year-old tucks in so trustingly.The way Aliah curls around her so protectively.The feeling of serenity emanating from them both.
I don’t remember my mother ever holding me like that.But then, I don’t have many memories of my mother.She was always out of the house working in order to compensate for my father’s drinking.As a child, I resented her and idolized him, because that’s what children do.Now, as an adult, I feel my own loss less and wonder about hers.Maybe she would’ve liked a moment with her daughter curled against her.Maybe she would’ve liked one minute to hold her child and feel at peace.
These are the things I wasn’t smart enough to question when I was young, and now it’s too late.My mother and father are buried side by side at a cemetery I never visit.And not so much due to their failings, but because I don’t want to acknowledge my own.
Aliah’s phone rings.She glances at the screen and immediately sits up, her gaze darting to me, then Daryl with intensity.I don’t have to see the caller ID to know it’s Isaad.
“Hello,” she answers brightly, moving Zahra off her lap so she can rise to standing, put some distance between herself and the curious child.Zahra doesn’t seem to notice, her attention on Daryl’s empty pudding bowl, which she scrapes hopefully with her finger.
Daryl and I keep our focus on Aliah.She hasn’t spoken another word, but her expression has gone from optimistic to puzzled.Abruptly, she pulls the phone from her ear, inspects the screen.
“Call dropped,” she murmurs.Just in time for it to buzz again.She answers, starts to speak, stops.Her gaze is growing more and more concerned as the call apparently fails once more.
Now she’s pacing the spice aisle, her movements jerkier.Zahra starts to take notice.
“More pudding?”Daryl booms out, startling all three of us.But this garners Zahra’s attention as he hastily takes her hand and ushers her toward the rear kitchen.
Aliah’s phone buzzes for the third time.“Isaad?”she whispers.Then louder, “Where?What?Isaad.Isaad, can you hear me?”
She holds the phone out between us.I can hear heavy breathing.A gurgling gasp.A long, shuddering sigh.Then…
“Isaad!”she demands.
This time the call remains connected.Only for the silence to go on and on.
“Isaad?”Aliah repeats.
But there’s no answer.
I pluck the phone gently from Aliah’s shaking fingers.Then I produce my own mobile to dial a whole new number.
“Detective,” I say when he finally picks up.“I believe we have a situation…”
CHAPTER 26
