Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

" W hat do you know about Dari Ghazi?" Michael asked.

Jasmine stopped near the window beside the kitchen table and gazed at the deep forest, feeling more isolated than she had since she'd escaped Iraq. She hadn't realized how much Derrick's friendship meant to her until it was gone. Yes, she had Leila and Michael, but they had each other. She was back to being barely a shadow.

This was not the time for such dreary thoughts. "I only met Dari once. He is polite and charming on the surface, but there is something about him that is like a tiger, you know? Like he is…stalking?"

"Predatory?"

"This is a good word. But also sneaky. I think, even if Basma had not told me about him, he would have made my skin crawl."

"What'd she tell you?"

"When she was a child, he used to frighten her. She said he was always kind when people were around, always well-behaved. But when nobody was watching, he found pleasure in scaring her. He did not hurt her or even touch her. But she said his presence was…like a monster? I cannot think of a good word for it."

"Menacing?"

"I do not know."

"It sort of means threatening, but maybe a little more dangerous, a little more hidden. Not that I'm Noah Webster, so?—"

"Who is this Noah Webster? This is somebody I should know?"

He chuckled. "Nobody. Never mind. So Basma told you he was like that, and when you met him, you could see it?"

"Not see, but feel." Maybe Michael would think she was crazy, but she was only trying to be honest. "This makes sense to you?"

"I get that. Can you describe what he looked like?"

"It has been many years. I think he was not as tall as you and your brothers. His hair is curly. It was short then, and he had a beard. Brown eyes and thick eyebrows. He was not handsome and not ugly. He had the kind of face nobody would notice, you see?"

"Anything more specific?" Michael asked. "Take your time."

She'd never been good at recalling what people or places looked like. She'd never been one who remembered things in pictures, instead holding memories in words and scents and feelings. She closed her eyes and willed herself back to that moment in the courtyard behind Basma's house. She and Basma had been chatting while they kicked a soccer ball with Rabie—who'd been three or four at the time.

Dari had stepped outside from the house, and Basma's laughter had cut off as if clipped with a knife.

Though Dari did nothing but join the game, it felt like when a thick cloud blocks the sun, and the wind blows, and everything changes .

The air crackled with tension.

Dari and Rabie kicked the ball. Basma and Jasmine faded to the courtyard wall. Basma seemed to shrink in on herself.

When Dari tired of the game, he walked toward them and stopped a little too close to Jasmine. He didn't touch her, but she could feel his regard, the way he studied her as if she were an interesting…exhibit. Or perhaps an animal caught in a trap. There was an odd snapping and grinding in her memory.

Basma introduced her. They chatted. It was all very polite.

Even so, she'd been afraid. As soon as Dari had gone inside, Basma insisted Jasmine leave. She'd felt like a coward for abandoning her friend, but she'd done it, happy for once to return to her own house. Baba was grief-stricken and barely spoke to her, but at least he was safe.

Jasmine opened her eyes and focused on the log house around her. "He carries an arrogance, as if he is above everyone. Also, I remember that he had a cigarette lighter, not the kind you throw away, though. You know what I mean?"

"Yup."

"He would open it, light it, then close it, over and over. It is a strange thing and probably not helpful."

"It is," Michael said. "Very helpful. I'll show you a picture when I can so you can confirm it, but for now, I can tell you this. If this guy is who I think he is—and from your description, I'm almost a hundred percent sure he is—then your friend is right. He's a psychopath, and she was wise to run."

"But she is not free, right?"

"Actually… Is Derrick there? I need to give both of you an update."

She turned to call him, but he was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching her. "He is here."

"Can you put the phone on speaker? "

"Um…I don't know." She crossed toward Derrick. "He wants us both to hear. Is there a way?"

"Sure." He took it from her and pressed a button. "We're here."

"Is the kid nearby?"

"He's in the other room," Derrick answered.

"Okay, good," Michael said. "I managed to get a private conversation with the uncle this morning."

"You're in DC?" Derrick asked.

"Sent Leila, Bryan, and Sophie home and came straight here. I'm flying overseas later, but I wanted to put out some feelers, figure out what's going on. I went to Ghazi's hotel and managed to get a private word with him. He told me that when you showed up, Derrick, his security team thought you were up to something. They'd gotten a tip that someone might try to kidnap Basma and Rabie. That's why they were staying so close. After you and the kid took off, Basma ran the other way, and the team was… Well, I'm guessing they were confused, though Ghazi didn't say that. One of them followed her, one followed the kid. They both got away."

Jasmine asked, "She got away?—?"

"—That's not what happened." Derrick spoke at the same time, adding, "There were more than two. They followed?—"

"The uncle claims to have no idea who followed you."

"How can that be?" Derrick's tone was more irritated than confused. "The guard made a call. I saw him?—"

"To hotel security," Michael explained. "The story checks out."

"Okay, but…" Derrick shook his head. "Even if that's true… What's the uncle doing to find them?"

That was not the right question. Frustration hummed inside Jasmine. Where was Basma? Why didn't Derrick ask that ?

"Claims he's not going to search for them," Michael said. "He seemed sorry that he hadn't taken her seriously when she begged him not to make her and Rabie go live with Dari, and he'd ignored her. He was justifying himself, though, you know how you do, right? ‘I didn't have any choice. He is their brother.' He actually told me to tell them?—"

"Where is Basma?" Jasmine gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. She should not have interrupted. She looked at Derrick, expecting him to scowl at her or demand she be quiet.

He reached toward her, and she couldn't help the wince. But he squeezed her wrist, the slightest touch, reassuring her with his kindness. "You're right. I got distracted."

"Sorry, sis," Michael said. "I should have led with that." Michael also didn't sound angry. And he called her sis, which he did sometimes , as if she were already his sister. And to him, that didn't mean control. It meant devotion and brotherly love.

She should know these men better than to expect anger from them. Even so, their kindness sent tingles to her eyes.

"Ghazi said Basma escaped, but somehow, in the melee, she dropped her phone." Michael related the information calmly. "The security guys grabbed it. They thought Ghazi could hack into it to figure out where she was going."

"Did he hack it? Maybe this is why Basma hasn't emailed. Maybe she fears he'll find her emails to me."

"Maybe," Michael said. "But he's not looking for her, or at least he claims he's not. In fact, he gave me the phone."

"He is letting her go?" Jasmine asked. "You really believe this?"

"That's what he said."

"But we were followed." Derrick turned Jasmine's way. "I'm not crazy. We were followed, right?"

"I think. I saw one SUV. "

"You were." Michael sounded confident. "Checked the CCTV footage, and you were followed by three SUVs. I'm impressed you lost them."

"If they weren't Ghazi's men," Derrick asked, "then who were they?"

"Our guess is that Dariush suspected Basma might try to run and assigned them to watch her. The question is why. Why did he care that much if they got away?"

"They are his family." Derrick was nodding his agreement. To the phone, she said, "You do not think this is enough?"

"He wasn't close to them, right?" Michael asked. "And he hasn't lived in Iraq for years. As far as I can tell, he barely knows them. I'm not saying he doesn't care. But why does he care enough to move back to Baghdad to take responsibility for them? And to hire guards to ensure they don't get away? Do you think he loves them?"

"I do not think he is capable," she said. "Control, perhaps?"

"Maybe."

"I don't know." Derrick's lips squished together the way that told her he was considering something. "Not that I know anything about him, but wouldn't a guy like that have higher aspirations than to control his siblings? What's in it for him?"

"Exactly." Michael sounded impressed. "That's exactly what I want to know. I can't imagine Dariush Ghazi doing this unless there was something meaningful—something valuable— in it for him. Jasmine, how long did they live next door to you?"

"They moved in around the time when Mama got sick, but Dari didn't live there. He is much older than Basma."

"And you only met that one time." It wasn't a question, so Jasmine didn't respond. "Did he know your father?"

"He never came for tea, and Baba barely left the house in those days. Why? "

"Because Dariush Ghazi was working with your uncle. With Hasan Mahmoud."

"What?" Jasmine tried to put the pieces together in her mind. "That does not make sense. How did they know each other? I cannot imagine how that happened. I never heard his name mentioned. I never saw him at our house or at the compound."

"I don't know what to tell you." Michael's voice was flat. "If he is who I think he is, they definitely knew each other. Which makes me wonder if this—the thing Dari will get out of all of this—has something to do with you."

"No. That cannot be."

"Why not?" Michael said something else, but his words seemed to come from far away, muffled and echoing. The world was tipping and closing in.

Because if Dariush Ghazi knew Mahmoud, then he probably knew Khalid.

And if he knew Khalid, then maybe he knew Jasmine was his wife. And if that was the case…

Was Khalid behind this whole thing?

Something scraped, and then Derrick said, "Sit down, sweetheart." He urged her into a chair he'd pulled close. "Put your head between your knees."

She did what he told her, concentrating on her breathing, trying not to think about anything but the air going in and out, in and out.

"You two all right?" Michael asked.

"I'll call you back." The phone beeped, and then Derrick crouched beside her, rubbing her back. "You're okay, sweetheart. It's okay."

But it wasn't okay.

Had this whole thing been an elaborate ruse to find her?

Had Basma been in on it?

No, of course not. She would never have betrayed Jasmine. But Dari had used her, guessing Basma would reach out to Jasmine—and Jasmine would come to her aid.

Khalid was coming for her.

All that she'd done to escape him would be undone.

Because Jasmine was a fool.