Chapter 36

Jack woke early Saturday morning and took Max for a walk.

His beloved golden retriever was getting on in years, his gentle face a shade of white gold. Their long runs through Crandon

Park were a thing of the past, but the air felt different that morning. Even Max seemed invigorated. Halloween had been the

usual sweat festival, with dinosaurs and superheroes melting faster than their chocolate kisses and peanut butter cups. But

every year, come November, the summerlike heat and humidity vanished like the flip of a light switch. Jack picked up their

pace from geriatric waddle to senior stroll.

“Come on, boy. Like old times.”

It was certain to be the high point of a day Jack was dreading.

The transfer of custody to Farid was scheduled for two p.m., and Zahra’s meeting with the child psychiatrist was at noon.

Jack and Dr. Vestry arrived at his office on time. Zahra did not. Jack and the doctor waited at the kitchen table over coffee.

He told her about the voicemail message.

“Have you spoken to Zahra today?” Dr. Vestry asked.

“I sent a text asking her to call me, but I haven’t heard back.”

“I’m not surprised she lashed out. Anger provides an outlet for the powerlessness a mother feels after losing custody. Even

though you’re her lawyer, she may see you as part of the system that stole her child away from her.”

“Maybe I am part of that system.”

“That kind of self-flagellation will land you on my couch.”

Jack wasn’t entirely sure she was joking, but he smiled anyway, and their wait continued. Dr. Vestry further explained the feelings Zahra was likely to experience. Anger. Despair. Grief. Dissociation. Self-blame. More anger. When their coffee cups were empty, Jack checked the time. Zahra was seriously late. He dialed her number, but it went straight to voicemail. Jack left a message.

“Zahra, I’m in my office with Dr. Vestry. Hope you’re on the way. If you’re not, please call me.” He put his phone aside.

“It’s not like Zahra to be late.”

“Not like Zahra to leave you angry voicemail messages either, I presume.”

“Are you saying I should or shouldn’t be worried?”

“ Are you worried?” she asked.

Psychiatrists weren’t mind readers, but Jack wasn’t trying to hide his concern. “I’ve had clients leave me at the altar before.

No-shows for arraignment or sentencing. Zahra is giving me that same vibe.”

“The system failed her. It wouldn’t shock me if she went to see Farid and made one last effort to reason with him, negotiate

with him, or...”

She’d left it unsaid, but Jack filled in the blank. “Threaten him?”

“Confront him. Give him a piece of her mind. Whatever she might be up to, those ‘final’ interactions never end well.”

Jack felt the need to take action. “Would you mind waiting here in case she shows up? I’m going to drive over and check on

her.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said.

Jack grabbed his car keys and hurried out the door. The drive to Zahra’s town house was less than twenty minutes in traffic,

even quicker on the weekend, and quicker still when ignoring the speed limit. Jack’s cell phone was connected to his Bluetooth,

and he kept hoping for a call from Zahra— On my way, see you soon —but it didn’t come.

Jack rounded the corner on Zahra’s street, and the scene outside her town house made his heart sink. A Miami-Dade squad car

was in the driveway. A pair of uniformed officers was at the front door, which was closed. A handful of curious neighbors

had gathered near the mailbox. Jack parked across the street and jumped out of the car. He went straight to the officers on

the front step and told them who he was.

“We need to speak to your client,” the officer said. “Is she home?”

“I don’t know where she is,” said Jack.

Farid’s lawyer was suddenly coming up the walkway. “She’s long gone,” said Beech, joining the conversation.

“What are you talking about?” asked Jack.

“She left before sunrise,” said Beech. “She took Yasmin with her.”

“How do you know that?” asked Jack.

“Farid got a tip twenty minutes ago. I called the police immediately.”

Jack glanced at the car in the driveway. “They can’t be far away. Her car is still here.”

“She used another one, obviously,” said Beech. “Smart. No vehicle to list in the AMBER Alert.”

Child abductions by strangers were the primary mission of AMBER Alerts, but about forty percent were family abductions. Either

way, a vehicle to track was a critical part of the alert.

Jack looked at the officer. “Are you planning to issue an AMBER Alert?”

“We have a tip that she left with the child in the middle of the night,” he said. “She’s not answering the door or our calls

to her cell phone. This is not the behavior of a parent who intends to comply with the transfer of child custody. If you can’t

tell us where your client is, it seems prudent to issue an alert.”

“Who was the tipster?” asked Jack.

“That’s confidential,” said the officer.

That old feeling—client turned fleeing fugitive—hit Jack like a punch to the gut.

“Okay, but let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Jack. “The time to transfer custody is still an hour away.”

“By then, she and Yasmin could be in the Bahamas,” said Beech.

“I’m just saying that, as of now, no crime has been committed.”

“There doesn’t have to be a crime for an AMBER Alert,” said Beech. “Just reasonable suspicion of a child in danger.”

“Zahra would never hurt Yasmin,” said Jack.

“Neither would Farid,” said Beech, “but that didn’t stop you from trying to take Yasmin away from him.”

The officer silenced the lawyers and leveled his gaze at Jack. “Mr. Swyteck, can you guarantee that your client is going to show up by the two-o’clock deadline and transfer custody to Mr. Bazzi?”

Jack couldn’t, so he offered the best he could. “I’m trying to reach her.”

“Well, you keep on trying,” Beech said in a condescending tone. “The AMBER Alert should be issued now. If your client doesn’t

show, I’m going to ask the state attorney to get an arrest warrant.”

She turned and walked back toward her car.

Jack couldn’t argue with her position. In a situation like this, the principal concern of everyone—Jack included—was Yasmin’s

safety. He stepped away and dialed Zahra’s number on his cell phone. Again, it went to voicemail.

“Zahra, the police are at your town house,” he said into his cell. “If you’ve done something stupid, it won’t work. You have

until two p.m. to be in my office, or in the eyes of the law, you’re a child abductor. Call me right now. I mean it. Right now .”