Allure of Deceit (29 page)

The woman could take Thara away. He felt foolish to fail after traveling so far and finding the prison.

The guard spoke to Fatima for a few moments, and she turned to Saddiq and Thara with a puzzled smile. “Your sister. The guard has instructions to contact her attorney should any family member try to visit.”

Saddiq wanted to run, but Thara hovered near Fatima and asked about the attorney. The woman explained he was an official who represented the sister in court. “I'm sure this is no problem,” Fatima said. “The attorney may be willing to take you inside, perhaps even today.”

Thara clung to Fatima's hand tightly. “But you need not go in if you don't want to,” the woman offered. “We can wait outside for your brother.”

Thara opened her mouth and glanced at Saddiq, who nodded slowly. He understood Thara's fear. The attorney could talk Leila out of handing over the infant. He could send Saddiq and Thara back to ­Laashekoh. Or the guard could be lying.

So close. Saddiq wanted to hide and return to Laashekoh without Thara or the baby. But he could not walk away.

The woman walked over to the waiting car and asked the driver to find cold drinks for the children. She did not seem concerned that they might run away. As soon as Fatima left, Thara whispered. “It's all right. She knows that I am a girl, and does not care.”

He was astounded. “What adult does not care about a boy and a girl running away together?”

“Fatima guessed that you helped me leave. I like her and feel as if I belong here. But she suggested that we let others think that I'm a boy until we reach the orphanage.”

“You didn't tell her about the plans to take the baby back to Laashekoh?”

Thara shook her head, and Saddiq refrained from pressuring her. Before long, a young man in the uncomfortable clothes favored by Westerners approached the guards. The attorney greeted Fatima, smiled at the two children, introduced himself as Abdullah, and handed the guard a small folder. “You are here to see your sister? She will be so happy, but I must accompany you.”

“Thamer will go,” Saddiq said. “But only if he wants . . .”

Thara smiled at Saddiq and started to follow the man. Saddiq pulled at her sleeve and asked the attorney if they could have a moment.

“Certainly,” he agreed cheerfully and then turned to chat with Fatima.

Saddiq asked what Thara would say to Leila, and she sighed. “All I can do is listen to her and guess what she might want. But you were right, Saddiq. Allah is with us.”

The boy was ashamed for having ever doubted her.

PART 4

Do they not know that Allah knows their hidden thoughts and their secret counsels, and that Allah is the great Knower of the unseen things?

—Koran 9:78

CHAPTER 21

Cara Rodriguez, the publicity consultant, requested a private meeting with Lydia—no staff members. Lydia asked if the matter could be discussed over Skype, but Cara was firm. She wanted to meet in person and as soon as possible. Lydia agreed, and Cara was on the next flight out to Michigan.

The two could have met at the hotel or one of the restaurants dotting the edge of campus, but that didn't promise privacy. In friendly East Lansing, too many people would stop by Lydia's table to say hello.

Lydia prepared her guest room and hoped the young woman did not mind the quirks of a home with small rooms so common in the 1930s. She set the table in the breakfast area, cozy in pale yellow with just a few touches of red—and drove to three stores to collect vegetables, bread, and cheese for a tapas-style meal and a bottle of cabernet for the evening—Caymus Special Selection. Cara was from San Francisco and would appreciate the gesture.

Lydia wanted a consultant and confidante.

The young woman arrived six hours later, dressed in beige corduroys and a hooded tweed sweater. Lydia set the table for the light meal and opened the wine. Cara noticed the label and raised her eyebrows.

“This is work, but I can't resist,” Cara said.

Lydia poured, and there was no toast. Instead, she asked what Cara needed.

“Honesty,” Cara said with a slight smile. “You made it clear that you preferred Paul Reichart for the award. Then he resisted the background check. Our recommendation for the board is no background check, no award.”

Lydia nodded, and Cara took a deep breath. “Tell me what you really want. Is your priority giving the award to Paul or getting the background check done?”

Lydia lifted her glass and took a sip. She had to be up-front with her consultant.

“This is just about the background check,” Lydia admitted.

Cara sipped her wine and closed her eyes. “Heaven . . .” Returning her glass to the table, she cocked her head and studied the older woman. “That's what I guessed. But targeting one employee is a problem. It could damage the reputation of GlobalConnect. And my firm's reputation, too.”

“Paul has been through background checks before.”

“Still, it's his call. And this review would be more intrusive than a typical credit or criminal check.” Cara took another dainty sip of wine. “Forgive me for prying into personal details. The foundation was formed after your son's death. I checked the news reports. Paul was in the United States. He had attended the wedding. All the reports suggest he was devastated by the death. He went to India and assisted in the police investigations. He represented you and the company and escorted the bodies back to California. And then he returned to Asia, helping establish foundation programs there.”

She held the glass with both hands and leaned forward. “Correct me if I'm wrong. Do you want to find out who's responsible for the death of your son and his wife?”

Smoothing the top of the tablecloth with her hand, Lydia did not know how to proceed. Her grief was still surging, motivating her every day. Yet she was not so foolish to believe that exposing her son's killer would bring relief. Lydia didn't want to say much. Raw, unhindered grief frightened the uninitiated, and Cara would realize that Lydia's had not faded.

“Maybe you have ideas?” Lydia kept her voice light.

Cara put her wine to the side. “How close are you with Paul?”

He was her son's good friend. But Lydia had not met with him alone in recent years. “Not as close as we once were,” she admitted.

Cara pointed out Lydia did not need permission to investigate criminal activity on the job. “You can apply computer forensics if he has used foundation resources in communications or travel planning.”

Lydia's head was racing. Suspicions had crept up and multiplied, but she could be wrong. How could she explain that, until she knew, everyone was a suspect? It would be awful to destroy a relationship with one of her son's closest friends.

She had to be careful. Picking up her knife, Lydia slowly spread cheese over the warm Galician bread, indulging in a memory of Michael and Paul in kindergarten. The families were neighbors. Paul's parents were never home, and Lydia invited the boy along on playground, library, and shopping trips. She had orchestrated the friendship. As they grew older, Paul was the better student, and his parents tried to convince the boys to join soccer and other sports teams. Michael ignored the adults and set the agenda, searching for every opportunity to get outdoors, find appliances to pull apart in the garage, and practice programming on the computer. Paul adored Michael and went along. Later Michael confided that his friend had become a habit. “Like a brother?” she asked. Michael offered a slight smile. “Maybe because there was no choice.”

A long spell of silence passed, and Cara was patient.

If Lydia didn't trust Paul, she couldn't trust anyone, and that made her ashamed. She couldn't let Annie or the other staff members guess the purpose behind her proposal for an award.

“This is so difficult,” Lydia said. She passed the manchego cheese to Cara. “I had hoped he would replace me on the board.”

“You want to clear his name.” The young woman placed her hand over Lydia's. She could start by going through Lydia's e-mails for messages sent by Paul. She asked if Lydia still had her son's computers, phones, or other electronics and would go through those. “I can identify the IP addresses and check for patterns. None of this is illegal.”

They could also bait Paul into cooperating with a background check. The award could lead to promotion—Paul replacing Lydia as a GlobalConnect board member. The confidential investigation would start as soon as Lydia was ready.

“Start now,” Lydia whispered.

CHAPTER 22

The guard escorted the attorney, flushed with excitement, into Leila's cell. She lifted her head. “Back so soon?”

“You have a visitor—your brother!” he announced. The guard would allow a short visit if Leila agreed.

She lifted her eyebrows. She had no brothers, but she did not tell the attorney. He wanted to sit in, but Leila was stubborn about wanting to meet with her sibling alone.

“You can question him afterward,” Leila assured the attorney.

He lowered his voice. “You must ask about the baby, but be careful. The walls have mice, and the mice have ears.” Then he knocked for the guard to open the door and in walked Thara with cropped hair and dirty clothes. The fools! A close look at her hands, her eyes, or mouth, and they should have immediately recognized a pretty young girl from the countryside. The lawyers believed whatever lies they were told.

Leila stood and waited, her head high with the lopsided smile, and Thara hurried to hug Leila.

“It's good to see you, Brother.” Leila feigned a slight catch in her voice. “The first time in months I've seen family.”

The attorney pressed once more to stay, but the guard glanced toward Leila and refused. The guard might listen in, her cellmates might offer reports, but she worried most about the attorney. She waited for the door to slam.

Leila gave a happy squeal and dropped her voice to a whisper. “How did you get away? Did you run away? Is that why you're dressed like a boy?”

“It was the only way I could travel,” Thara admitted.

Eager to relay her good fortunes in prison, Leila directed Thara to sit on the carpet. She talked about her classes, the charities, and hinted about a growing fund. But the girl was distracted and kept glancing around the cell. Leila asked when Thara had arrived in the city, and was pleased to hear that very day.

Leila was still a priority in her sister's life, and that meant Thara would do her bidding.

One question burned inside, and there was only one answer she wanted to hear. It would be agonizing to hear that the man who had destroyed her family still controlled Laashekoh. Even though she was in prison, hours away from Laashekoh, Leila could not let anyone, even Thara, connect her with Parsaa's demise.

“It must be horrible in Laashekoh, and I don't miss it at all.”

Thara shook her head. “Not so horrible, but they do ignore us. They separated us. I was with Karimah.”

“That
boz
,” Leila said. “So you're not going back?”

Thara eyed the concrete-block walls and the pile of books and papers near the mat where Leila slept. “She wasn't so bad.”

“But you won't go back,” Leila pointed out.

Thara laughed and nodded.

“Has Laashekoh changed?” Leila had to know.

The younger girl shrugged and then shook her head. So Zahira had not kept her promise to send Parsaa and his family away. For the first time while in prison, Leila felt trapped and betrayed. Her sister looked uncomfortable, probably ashamed of a family member in prison.

“You used the money I hid.” The comment was a reminder and not a question, but Thara nodded. “I'm glad because I don't need it.” Leila tossed her head. “Believe it or not, I am free here. I'm alone and do as I please and don't have to work in fields.” She promised that her time in prison would not last long.

Thara said she was happy that her sister was happy.

Leila babbled on with excitement. “And you will be happy in Kandahar, too. The attorneys are raising funds to repair my face, and more than enough money has already come in. There is no need for you to return to Laashekoh. The attorney can help you stay in the city. As soon as I leave prison, we can live together and even travel.”

“But what about the baby, Leila?” Thara whispered.

Annoyed, Leila stood and paced in the tight space. “The attorney told you to ask? It's all he cares about!”

“He did ask, and I explained that I had to talk with you. He seemed upset that we may not know where the baby is at.” Thara shrank back as if she expected her sister to have a fit, but Leila was pleased.

“That was excellent what you told him.” Leila placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. “We do not want the attorneys asking questions in Laashekoh. Do not tell him any more.” She spun around and resumed pacing. “Yes, Sister, you will like Kandahar. The market is huge, and the homes are comfortable and large. Wait for me until I leave here . . . and we will travel.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “But first, you must help me.”

“With the baby?” Thara stared at her sister and waited.

“That is all the attorney talks about. You must go with him to retrieve your niece. She is near Laashekoh.”

“I can't go back there!” Thara shook her head vehemently.

“You must tell him that and keep him away from the village. Tell him how horrible it is, how no one can be believed there.” Leila moved her lips close to Thara's ear. Her words were as soft as breathing. She explained how the sisters had visited the place once or twice when they were young and reminded Thara how to find the canyon trail and reach the secluded compound. “You can do it. The attorney can force Zahira to hand the child over to its aunt. You must go and help him take the baby away from Zahira.”

Thara was silent, and Leila continued. “If the woman argues, explain she did not keep her end of our bargain. She lied. That's all. No one needs to know more. Take the baby away and bring her here.”