“Ask her about Jamil.”
“Sabera’s first love and possible father of her child?”
“You do listen!”
A bunch of growly sounds again.So this is what Roberta grew up with.Interesting.
“I doubt Dr.Porway will confirm or deny anything,” Detective Marc grits out, “but being a crack detective, I happen to have the ability to read facial expressions while cuing off of physical responses.I got this.”
Detective Marc mutters a few words I don’t have to catch in order to feel his love.He clicks off.I return to staring at numbered grids.By the time Aliah announces she’s done for the day and we might as well return to the compound, I’m grateful.
I DON’T SEEthe threat.Not even a hint of menace.
Aliah tidies up the kitchen, closes out the register.Her cook has already headed out.We exit onto the sidewalk; then she pauses to lock the glass door.
A squeal of tires directly behind us.
I’m just turning to see when the first blow knocks me on the side of my head.I fall to my knees.A second strike sends me face down onto the blistering pavement.I try to raise myself up but can’t find my feet.My body is present.My mind refuses to function.I can only watch and see.
Two black-clad men.One grabbing Aliah from behind.The other yanking a dark hood over her face.
She kicks.Screams in her mother tongue.Breaks free long enough to attempt to flee.
“Fffuuu… Grab her!”
The second man snags her wrist.She smacks him across the face.Then the first man seizes both her arms again, looping a zip tie around them.
Back vehicle door opens.The men toss Aliah in, then clamber after her as the white SUV rockets away.
I feel blood trickling from my temple.
I feel the sidewalk searing my cheek.
I feel…
Nothing at all as the world spins away.
CHAPTER 34
REALITY COMES AND GOES.PEOPLEscreaming followed by uniform-clad professionals.Police, EMTs.I try to hold the moment.Things I need to say.
“Aliah,” I attempt to croak out, but no sound emerges from my throat.
Blinding lights.Speeding vehicles.
“Aliah,” I whisper.
Fade to black.
I wake to voices.Daryl’s, I think.He’s moaning that he should’ve been there, shouldn’t have left us alone.He’s demanding answers, action, something.
Another man’s placating tone.They were able to identify the license plate on the SUV, trace the vehicle to a vacant lot where it had been hastily abandoned.Crime scene techs working it already, certain to have answers soon.
There’s something important I need to say, but I don’t remember what or why.Throbbing in my head, chest, arms.I roll to the side, vomit.Clamber of movement.People appear, some I know, some I don’t.I stare at them all glassy-eyed.
Fade to black again.
Except it’s not so dark.I’m in a liquor store, brightly lit.Paul stands across from me, gut shot, blood soaking through his shirt.He’s smiling at me.
