“Yes, but not just based on appearance.There’s something…” God, my head hurts.I rub my temples while trying to sort through my chaotic impressions.“Movement.The way he held himself.A little too tight, too stiff.Initially I pegged him for former military.But then when he stepped toward the register, he had a rolling gait, like someone recovering from a grievous injury or terrible accident.”
“And you saw him again yesterday?”
“The kidnapping happened yesterday?”
A nod.
“Aliah?”I can barely ask the question.
“No word.”
“They took her as leverage.”
Detective Marc doesn’t refute it.
“To force Sabera to come to them?Or to…” I struggle with the next thought.“Torture her for information like they did with Isaad?”
There are so many more ways to hurt a woman, and don’t we know it.
“The best way to help Aliah is to find her,” Detective Marc corrals my racing thoughts.“So you recognized one of the kidnappers.He’d been in Aliah’s store before.Scoping it out?”
I shrug.Wince at the stabbing pain.“Or following us.”I suffer through another hazy memory.Thick black hair, light brown skin, twin dark eyes, fixed on me heatedly.“The coffee shop.Where I met with Staci, the caseworker from the resettlement agency.He was standing in line a few spots behind me.I think.”
“Coffee shop, that’s good.More places, more cameras, more images.I’ll get some detectives right on it.”
“Fffuuu,” I whisper.
“What’s that?”
“The other guy.He yelled something.‘Fffuu, grab her.’Fuck!Grab her?Frank, Grab her?I can hear it, but I can’t understand it.”
“The young male with the rolling gait, he said this?”
“No, the other man, to him.Maybe just cursing at him to grab Aliah.But maybe… a name, title of address?Fff something.I don’t know.”I rub my temples.A final detail comes to me: “There were at least three of them.Two to grab Aliah, one to drive the vehicle.”
“That’s excellent, Frankie.More than I expected.”
“If those three belong with the two found hammered to death at the warehouse, that makes five.Five men, out to get Sabera for something she knows, has, is.Doesn’t that seem like a lot of people involved in a treasure hunt?”
“Depends on the size of the treasure.”
Even my semi-fried brain can grasp that.
“Zahra?”I ask.
“Still safe with Daryl and Roberta.I offered to contact child services.My sister… let’s just say she made a suggestion only a sibling can get away with.”
“Threatened to remove your manly bits?”
“With a rusty knife,” he assures me.
“I like your sister.”
Dramatic eye roll, but he isn’t fooling either of us.He and Roberta have a special relationship, the kind an only child like me can admire, but never truly understand.
“Dance studio meet-and-greet,” I mutter.
Fresh eye roll.“Yes, Daryl confessed your master plan for summoning Sabera Ahmadi.At which point Roberta threatenedhimwith a rusty knife.But”—the detective shrugs—“we need Sabera.Trying to coerce her into locating us… not a terrible idea.”
