When they were done, Kat drove them all back up the mountain. Malcolm’s car was still gone, but Scott came out to meet them when she pulled up. She rolled down her window, and Lily gave Juni a final pat and climbed out of the car.
“Thanks for letting Lily come with me. She was a big help. And they didn’t have to put the dog to sleep.”
“Glad she could help.” Scott gave Lily a smile. “I got a lot done. A win-win. I should finish this project in the next day or two, and then Lily and I can start a real backpacking vacation.”
Lily wrinkled her nose at the word backpacking. “Kat, can I come see Tye tomorrow after you pick him up?”
“Of course, if it’s okay with your dad. Juni would enjoy that, too.”
Scott frowned and tried to push his glasses back into place, even though they already looked right to Kat. “I thought we’d go for a hike tomorrow morning,” he said to Lily.
“Later in the afternoon? Please?” Lily gave her father a begging look, and his face softened. He laughed.
“Yeah, okay. That should work.”
“Thanks, Dad. See you tomorrow, Kat!” Lily turned and raced into the cottage.
Scott looked after her and sighed. “Thanks again for taking her with you. She seems to have enjoyed herself, which is a better track record than I’ve had. She used to love the outdoors when she was little, but it’s like a different person stepped off the plane this year. She just hangs around the cottage and whines about missing her friends.”
He sounded clueless, but then again, it couldn’t be easy to jump in and out of a daughter’s life with once-a-year visits. “Lily and I talked a little on our walk.” Kat paused and tried to choose the right words. “Maybe if you scaled back your plans. Let her make some decisions.”
Scott tensed, and Kat regretted offering the unsolicited advice. “Thanks,” he said, sounding like he didn’t mean it. “My ex keeps telling me I don’t understand a thing about twelve-year-old girls, but she’s my daughter. She can’t have changed that much. She’ll come around.”
His words were neutral, but his tone was dismissive. Kat suspected nothing would change.
Enough. She had earned some solitude. She said a firm good-bye and started the car. She didn’t want to think about Lily or Tye, Malcolm or his scars, or even her own problems. She didn’t want to think about anything at all. Maybe a good book and a cold drink would do the trick.
She drove back to the cottage with Juni, dumped her stained clothes and blood-splattered tennis shoes in the deep kitchen sink to soak, and relaxed into a long hot shower, climbing out only when the water pressure dropped, and she remembered the drought. She slid into jeans and a fresh blouse and tried to forget the day’s problems and the smell of filthy dog.
But when she sank into the porch rocking chair and reached to set her glass of iced tea on the table, she froze. She had placed her little multicolored bowl on that table when she unpacked that morning. Had it been there at lunch? She couldn’t recall. Now it was gone.
She looked around as if it could have moved on its own, but it was nowhere in sight. Gone. Some person had done this.
The hair on Kat’s arms stood up straight, the day suddenly colder. Sara and Lily hadn’t touched it. Malcolm hadn’t gone near the porch. Nirav had been running around, but it was an unlikely thing for a nine-year-old boy to take. She glanced at Juni, but that was even more absurd.
The woods had lost some of their menace as the day moved on, but now the trees closed in around her, once again dark and forbidding. The remote location. A man with a scar. An injured dog. Her retreat was proving anything but restful.
That night Kat slept with her windows closed and locked, banning the breeze and muffling the sounds of the tree frogs, the cicadas, and the who-cooks-for-you call of the local barred owl. In the middle of the night, she reached out for Jim, the memory of his comforting warmth intensely real. She woke, startled, when all she found beside her was empty space.
Empty space. In the end, it was all she would leave behind her as well.
CHAPTER FIVE
TUESDAY, 9:00 AM
Malcolm sat in front of his cottage with his coffee the next morning, surveying the parched landscape and the cloudless sky. Still no sign of rain. He was delaying breakfast until Nirav woke, and frankly, the chance to be on his own for a bit was too good to pass up. Such a change, this business of being tethered to another person. He and Nirav had been together full-time for only a couple of weeks. It was going to take time to adjust.
His cell phone showed only one flickering bar. He’d need to go farther down the mountain to get enough signal to check email and see if a date for the house closing had been confirmed. This stay in the mountains was great as a transition into so much that was new, but it would be nice to get Nirav settled in a real home. They needed to start their new life.
The sound of a car engine grew closer, and Malcolm looked uphill. That had to be Kat, since hers was the only cottage higher up the mountain. He’d thought of her often since he’d overheard that awkward conversation the previous day. Kat was facing serious decisions. Covering her mirror? He understood plenty about that temptation. It had taken him more than two years to get to the point that he no longer startled himself as he faced his mirror to shave each morning.
Her car slowed and then stopped in front of him. Kat waited a few seconds for the dust to settle and then rolled down her window.
“Good morning,” she called.
Malcolm closed the distance between them. “Good morning. How’s that poor dog doing?”
“The vet seemed to think she could patch him up. I’m heading into town now to run some errands, and I’ll give them a call. In theory, I should be able to bring him home later today.”
“Good. I’m glad they think he’ll be okay, and I know Nirav will be, too.”
The slam of a screen door caused them both to turn toward Scott’s cottage, and sure enough, here he came.
Scott waved and walked across the road to join the conversation, jabbering long before he even arrived. “Morning! How’s everyone doing? Looks like another beautiful day. No rain to deal with. Lily and I are going for a hike, but she’s still sound asleep. I swear, she’s up until the wee hours and then hibernates for half the day. I promised to make her animal pancakes for breakfast. She won’t have that luxury on the trail.”
Kat smiled, apparently more patient with all this than Malcolm was. “I used to do that for Sara—bear shapes and fish shapes were her favorite.”
Scott nodded. Malcolm didn’t think eating animal-shaped food would appeal to a vegetarian, but perhaps Nirav would like plain round ones. He’d have to remember to pick up pancake mix next time he was at the grocery. Something else to think about—American breakfast food.
“Please thank Lily again for all her help yesterday,” Kat said.
“She had a great time. Talked about nothing else last night.” Scott didn’t sound overly happy about it.
Malcolm took a step toward his cottage, conscious that they were delaying Kat from her errands, but she held up her hand to stop him. “I’m glad you’re both here. Something odd happened yesterday—someone must have been up at my cottage while I was away. A thief. Nothing of consequence taken, but keep your eyes open.”
“That’s not good news,” Malcolm said. They were isolated up here—both a protection and a risk. “I’ll definitely pay attention to anyone heading up the road.”
“Thanks,” Kat said.
She started to say something more, but Scott jumped in first. “Did they break into the house? What did they take? Did they do any damage?”
“The only thing missing is a ceramic bowl I had left out on the porch. It’s not worth anything, but I liked it. It’s creepy to know it was there and now it’s gone.”
Scott snorted. “A bowl? No thief is going to drive all the way to the top of this mountain and only steal a bowl. You must be mistaken. It’s probably there. You probably put it somewhere else and for
got.” He waved his hand to dismiss any alternative and gave Malcolm a pointed can-you-even-believe-such-foolishness look.
Kat’s jaw tightened, and Malcolm’s irritation spiked. Scott was right, it was weird, but that was no reason to doubt Kat. “If Kat says someone took it, then someone took it. We’ll need to be careful.”
Scott’s eyes narrowed, but Kat gave Malcolm a grateful look. “Thanks. Well, I guess I’ll head into town. You both have a good day. I’ll look forward to seeing Lily later.” She waved a farewell and put the car back in gear.
Malcolm once again started toward his cottage, but then he stopped. A bowl. Missing yesterday. “Kat!” he called. She braked and looked back at him. “What did your bowl look like?”
“It had a blue-and-green pattern on a white background. A dark-blue rim.”
Malcolm’s throat tightened. The bowl Nirav had been holding at lunch the day before looked like that. He had taken it into his bedroom when he went to bed, placing it on his nightstand, touching it as if it provided some hidden comfort.
Malcolm couldn’t accuse Nirav out of hand. He needed to talk to him. “Okay. Thanks.”
Kat looked puzzled, but the car started forward again and soon disappeared down the hill.
“Guess I’ll go wake Lily,” Scott mumbled, obviously still annoyed that Malcolm hadn’t backed him up. “Get her moving.”
Malcolm didn’t reply, his thoughts churning. Surely Nirav couldn’t have stolen that bowl. He would never have done such a thing.
He went into the house and quietly opened the door to Nirav’s room. There it was on the stand—a small decorative bowl, nothing all that special about it. Nirav slept on undisturbed, but the covers were twisted around him as though he had spent the night tossing and turning. The director at the orphanage had told him Nirav sometimes woke with nightmares, but Malcolm hadn’t heard him in the night.
He leaned against the doorjamb and watched the boy breathe. Nirav’s face was smooth and calm, whatever memories that haunted him well hidden, at least for the moment. Malcolm’s chest tightened. Nirav was the most precious gift he’d ever received, and he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he now had to have with him.
The day Malcolm first met Nirav, he had gone to the outskirts of Islamabad, toward Taxila, to get a sense of the neighborhood. One of his security firm’s most important clients planned to hold a series of meetings there, and Malcolm wanted to scout it out. On paper, low risk, but an on-site look would fill in the gaps far better than a remote assessment. In person, he could evaluate traffic patterns. Local hangouts. Possible threats.
He spent an hour exploring the area on foot, getting oriented, and then he settled at an outdoor table at the café across from the meeting site, ordering coffee and mutton stew with chapati. From this location, he could watch and learn. It would be far easier to detect the abnormal on meeting days if he was thoroughly grounded in what was usual for the neighborhood.
He felt the weight of eyes on him. This sixth sense he possessed, hidden in his skin or buried deep in the reptile part of his brain, had served him well, and he never ignored its warning. He got stared at a lot—first, because he was a tall white foreigner, second, because of his face. He could never assume such an intense look was simple curiosity, so he turned in his chair to find the source of his disquiet.
No threat apparent—it was only a small boy. Empty-handed. Shaggy-haired. Very thin. He stood in the dirt that edged the café patio, barefoot, his left arm held tight to his side. His clothing was faded, well worn, and too large for his slight frame.
Usually when Malcolm met the eyes of someone at random, one of two things happened—either they stepped forward with a greeting or request, or, more often, they turned away, embarrassed by their nosiness. This boy did neither. He studied Malcolm’s face so intently, Malcolm could feel the boy trace every twist of his scar. He waited for him to hold out his hand in the universal beggar’s appeal—he sure as hell looked hungry enough—but the kid just stood there, his hands at his side, watching.
“Would you like this?” Malcolm gestured toward the untouched chapati in the basket beside his plate. The boy’s eyes jerked to see what he pointed to, and he looked startled, as if he hadn’t yet noticed the food. His tongue moistened his lower lip, and he nodded.
Malcolm waved him closer, and the boy looked around the patio, most likely searching for the waiter, who would undoubtedly chase him off. Coast clear, the boy stepped to the table, and Malcolm placed the bread in his hand. The boy tore into it with small white teeth, seizing huge hungry bites, the food disappearing with astonishing speed. His eyes never left Malcolm’s face.
There was no more food. Malcolm expected the child to leave. Instead, he gave a nod of thanks and returned to his post a few steps off the patio, feet planted, body still, simply watching. Malcolm resumed his walking tour of the district, but this time the boy followed, five paces behind every step of the way. Completely silent. For an hour, the two walked, past storefronts and houses, past the neighborhood mosque and a small school. Malcolm and his shadow.
At last, Malcolm sought out a bench, found one in the shade, and sat. “Come here,” he said in Urdu.
The boy hesitated, but he came.
“Sit down.” Malcolm gestured to the space beside him.
The boy sat at the far end of the bench. Wary. Poised to run if he glimpsed danger.
“What’s your name?”
“Nirav.” The boy spoke quietly.
A name more common in India than in Pakistan. “Does your family live around here?”
Nirav looked uncertain. Chose his words. “I have no family.”
No family. It explained a few things, but not everything. “Why are you following me?”
Nirav hesitated, as if there was more than one answer, but then he seemed to make up his mind. “My family is from Mirpur Khas.” Malcolm had read about the area—far to the southwest. “My father came here to Islamabad for business. My mother and I came with him to see the city. There was a train wreck. An explosion. They are both dead. I am here.”
Orphaned and stuck in a strange city. Malcolm felt a surge of pity building, and he pulled himself back from feeling sorry. This was just one little tragedy in a country that had seen many.
“So, why were you following me?”
Nirav hesitated, and then he came to stand in front of Malcolm. He reached out with his right hand and traced the scar on Malcolm’s face with an extended finger, not touching, but his hand so close Malcolm could feel the air shift across his skin.
Then, Nirav lifted his left arm, which until then he’d held pressed to his side, and Malcolm saw the burn scar. It covered the back of his hand and his entire lower arm, healed but still red and raw, with a broad band of damaged skin that extended farther up toward his shoulder, disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. “We are the same.”
The words hit home like a punch beneath the diaphragm, and Malcolm had to remind himself to breathe. Nirav sat down again on the bench, but close this time, their legs touching. He reached out with confidence and took Malcolm’s left hand in his good right one, his fingers closing fiercely. Malcolm hesitated for only a second, then turned his hand so he could hold on tight in return. We are the same. By any standard measurement, the world would judge the statement a lie, but the two of them knew its truth.
The memory of that first meeting returned to Malcolm often. It had been the day that transformed his future, a day when a chance encounter had seismic impact.
Nirav stirred in his sleep, then opened his eyes. He saw Malcolm standing there, and his face eased into a smile that sprang directly into Malcolm’s heart.
“Good morning.” Malcolm’s voice was quiet, but it didn’t mask his determination to face whatever his son had done. “Let’s get you some breakfast. Then you and I need to talk.”
CHAPTER SIX
TUESDAY, 1:30 PM
Kat dreaded seeing Tye again, but she needn’t have worried. The cute wi
ggly dog the technician carried into the exam room at the vet clinic that afternoon bore little resemblance to the quivering tangle of dirt she had dropped off only the day before. His right front leg had been shaved along most of its length, and a thick line of purple plasticky stuff—skin adhesive, according to the tech—replaced what had been a bloody wound. They had removed the horrific rope collar, and a bright blue bandage swathed Tye’s neck. No ticks remained, and the pup had been bathed and smelled faintly of orange groves. Kat relished the improvement—a spirit-lifting break from the hovering apprehension that had pervaded her cottage.
The pup sniffed at Kat’s hands with curiosity.
“Things look pretty good, considering,” Dr. Lawrence said.
She demonstrated how to change the bandage while Kat stayed at a safe distance, but the process turned out to be far less disgusting than she’d feared. The wound encircling Tye’s neck where the clothesline had dug in looked raw and wet, but at least it wasn’t bleeding.
The vet put the last wrap of the bandage in place. She made it seem easy. “Change this daily, but also if it gets wet or seems loose. And don’t use a collar—use a harness if you need him on a leash. Definitely now. Probably forever.”
Kat fumbled in her shoulder bag for her pet-store purchases. “Do you think this is the right size?”
She held out a bright-red harness and matching leash, as recommended by Sara on the phone that morning. Her daughter had been astonished to hear that Kat had acquired yet another dog, and she hadn’t held back on advice.
The vet dimpled. “See, I told you people who claim they don’t know what they’re doing put the most thought into owning a pet.”
She showed Kat how to put the harness on, and when it fit perfectly, Kat felt like she’d received an A+ on a difficult exam.
“Bring him back in a week, and we’ll see how he’s doing.” Dr. Lawrence gave Tye a farewell scratch behind his ears, and he gave a quick wag of his tail in response.
Wildland Page 5