Chapter 37

It was 2:00 p.m. Nothing from Zahra.

Jack was in his car across the street from her town house. The MDPD squad cars were still parked in the driveway. Until Jack

heard from his client, the police were his best source of information. He would stay there as long as they did. Dr. Vestry

was waiting at his office in case a miracle happened. He called her a few minutes after two.

“No news?” Jack said into the phone.

“Zahra is officially a no-show,” she said. “Any update on your end?”

Jack glanced toward the squad cars. “The AMBER Alert went out around one thirty. Cops have been sitting in their cars for

almost an hour now. Just waiting for an arrest warrant to issue, I presume.”

“How soon will that happen?”

“Farid’s lawyer wants her arrested for child abduction. A bench warrant for contempt of court would be quicker. Zahra’s in

flagrant violation of the judge’s order to transfer custody.”

“I’m so sorry it’s come to this,” she said.

A white sedan pulled to the driveway and stopped behind the squad cars. Jack recognized a “bucar” when he saw one—a term he’d

heard Andie use for a bureau-issued vehicle. A van pulled up right behind the bucar.

“The FBI is here,” said Jack.

“For violation of a state court custody order?” asked Dr. Vestry. “Even if Zahra was there, it doesn’t make sense for the

feds to be involved.”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Jack. “Except in this case, it does. I gotta go.”

A team of FBI agents climbed out of the van and started toward the town house. The MDPD officers exited their vehicles and met the lead agent at the edge of the driveway. Jack approached and introduced himself as Zahra’s attorney.

“Special Agent Logan, FBI,” the man responded. “We have a search warrant.”

Jack had been expecting an arrest, not a search. “Searching for what?”

“A seven-year-old girl, for starters,” the agent said.

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. A warrant to search for a person was unusual. Unless the “person” was a body.

“You don’t think Yasmin is—”

“We’re going in,” Agent Logan said.

There was a loud knock on the front door, followed by the announcement: “FBI! We have a warrant to search the premises. Open

the door!”

No one was home, but it was Fourth Amendment protocol: knock and announce.

“I’d like to see the warrant,” Jack asked, “as her lawyer.”

Agent Logan showed it to him, and the front door was breached with a loud thud as Jack read. The search team entered. Jack

continued up the front steps but stopped in the doorway.

“You can observe, but stand to the side,” said Agent Logan.

Thoughts of the worst kind raced through Jack’s mind. A mother so desperate as to decide that her daughter would be better

off dead was almost inconceivable. A mother-daughter homicide-suicide wasn’t possible. But it occurred to Jack that he didn’t

really know Zahra. Two weeks wasn’t long enough to know anyone.

Anything is possible.

Then Jack noticed something: no shoes by the door. He knew from previous visits that Zahra and Yasmin observed the Muslim

custom of removing their shoes upon entering the home, and the absence of even a single pair at the door gave rise to a logical

inference.

“They’re not here,” Jack said to Agent Logan.

Another agent emerged from the kitchen. “Hardly any food in the place,” he said to Agent Logan.

“Because they’re gone,” Jack said, answering for Logan. “They took their shoes, their food, and whatever else they needed.”

“Are you admitting that your client took flight?” asked Logan.

“I’m merely pointing out that the search warrant has been executed, and you didn’t find the one thing—the only thing—the FBI is authorized to look for. You can leave now.”

“I’ll decide when it’s time to leave,” said Logan.

Jack heard a commotion in the bedroom. He started down the hallway.

“Swyteck, stop right there!” said Logan.

Jack complied, but he’d walked far enough to see inside the bedroom, which was a mess. The mattress had been overturned. Clothes

were on the floor. Agents were rifling through dresser drawers, spilling the contents onto the rug.

“You’re not going to find a seven-year-old girl in a dresser drawer,” Jack said. “What is the FBI looking for, Logan?”

“We’re executing the warrant,” said Logan.

“The warrant is a pretext,” said Jack. “What are you really looking for?”

The agent didn’t answer.

“This is an illegal search,” said Jack. “My client does not consent to the search for anything not listed on the warrant.”

“Noted,” said Logan.

Another agent came halfway down the stairway and stopped. “Nothing in the upstairs bedrooms,” he said to Logan.

“Check again,” said Logan.

The agent headed back up the stairs.

Jack locked eyes with Logan. “This is about Ava Bazzi, isn’t it,” said Jack.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not here looking for a child,” said Jack. “The FBI is looking for evidence of what happened to her mother. Her biological mother.”

Logan said nothing, but Jack had his answer. He excused himself, headed for the door, and dialed Andie on his cell phone.

She picked up.

“Andie, we gotta talk,” he said. “But not on a cell phone.”

“What’s this about?”

He was no longer sure his cell phone was secure. “It’s important. Can you meet at home?”

“Jack, what is this about?”

“Andie, please. Can you meet me?”

She hesitated, and Jack realized he probably sounded paranoid or crazy. But she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m at Sir Pizza with Righley’s soccer team. They finally won a game, but the celebration’s almost over. I can be there in

half an hour.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, and the call ended.