by Suzi Weinert
He and Zayneb took their positions and bent to the burden of carrying the lifeless body’s weight. Ahmed walked backward, leading the way through the bedroom door onto the deck. Maneuvering their burden slowly down the wooden stairs brought them at last to the bottom, where Ahmed whispered they should put the body on the ground. There they secured edges of the shower curtain, which had loosened in transit. Ahmed showed Zayneb their destination. They carried their heavy bundle to the empty raised garden frame with the three-foot excavation. With effort, they coordinated lifting the body up over the edge, then lowering it down into the pit.
For a moment they both stared silently into the grave. “I washed him in the traditional Islamic way,” Zayneb whispered.
“Good,” Ahmed said. “We can each say our own prayers for him later.”
Ahmed slit open a plastic bag of hardware soil and emptied it into the pit. He opened another for Zayneb and, though she lifted the bag with difficulty, she managed to pour out its contents. They both added soil until it filled around the body and a light layer of dirt covered the shrouded figure. He slit open more bags of hardware dirt for Zayneb before quietly shoveling in excavated dirt dug earlier from a tarp next to the new garden. They alternately added the two kinds of soil until it came even with the top of the frame.
He indicated they’d done enough, gathered the empty bags into a pile and lay the shovel on top to prevent them blowing away. He took Zayneb’s arm, guided her up the wooden stairs and followed her into the bedroom. He closed and locked the deck door.
“Have you cleaned the bathroom?” he asked. She nodded. “Show me,” he said. After she did, he nodded in approval. “Our work is finished. May he sleep in peace.”
He looked at Zayneb. “You are a strong, brave woman.” He turned and left the room.
She locked the door.
Zayneb stood numb in the dark bedroom, the room she’d shared for a quarter of a century with her husband. She could hardly grasp the past twenty-four hours’ chaotic events. Yet an unexpected peace crept into her soul, freed at last from the fear and dread with which she’d lived so long.
Ahmed returned to his room. Myriad thoughts crisscrossed his mind: Mahmud’s burial, his growing need for Khadija, Abdul’s childhood rescue story, his doubts about the jihad he planned and how to recover the diamonds.
On the main floor, Heba stood alone in the dark kitchen. Often restless at night, she frequently came up from her cell-like room to look out the kitchen window, but tonight’s scene outside defied belief. She saw Ahmed and Zayneb bury something in the new garden, something shaped like a human body. Her evil master Mahmud, now presumably on a long trip, was the only person missing from the household.
Or was he?
DAY FIVE
Monday
70
Monday, 7:11 AM
“Grands sleeping late this morning?” Jay asked his wife as she poured their coffee.
“I haven’t checked, but they’re not shy about reporting for breakfast. You’ll be out of town today?”
“Yes, but with the madness here, I won’t stay over. I wouldn’t go at all but it’s the biggest thing our company has ever done and I’m the pivotal decision maker. I’ll definitely drive back tonight but will get home late. Who could I call to stay here with you. One of our kids? Adam?”
“Thanks, Jay, but they have their own busy lives. We have an up-to-date security system and phones all over the house to call for help. We should be fine…”
Jason wondered if he should insist. Her schedule might influence that decision. “What’s on your list today?”
“The Grands until Kaela collects them tomorrow about ten o’clock, plus getting organized for Thanksgiving in only three days. We’re having twenty adults and ten children and…”
“Geez, Jen, that’s thirty people for a sit-down dinner? What were you thinking?”
“Celeste and Fred will help in the kitchen, wash dishes and clear the tables. Most are family, but the list mushroomed with kids’ friends plus a few neighbors like Tony and Adam’s mother and father. By the way, weren’t you going to discuss finders-keepers with Greg Bromley?
“Yeah, but today is tough. With a full work morning of preparation plus that trip, I can’t today. And tomorrow morning is Tony’s deer hunt. Maybe tomorrow afternoon or, worst case, when he comes for Thanksgiving.” He looked at his watch. “Gotta go. Love you, Hon.” He kissed her goodbye and headed toward the garage.
“Please remember to repair the garage door before it crushes somebody,” she called after him.
She sighed, hoping he’d heard her, put the kitchen Rolodex by her coffee cup, dialed the grocery and reserved two large turkeys for Wednesday pick up. Grabbing a pencil to write down the order number, she noticed the psychic’s phone number Adam had left yesterday.
Becca appeared in her PJs and said in a bleary voice. “Morning, Mom. Coffee needed.” She shuffled her way to the counter and poured herself a cup.
“You’re up early. Anything going on?”
“No, just couldn’t sleep any longer. Thought I might take Chris and Alicia to a movie and dinner today if you don’t mind having Milo to yourself. He’s too little to keep it together that long.”
“The girls will love it. By the way, could you baby-sit all three a couple of hours around lunchtime? I’d like to meet this psychic who visited the police station, if she’s available.” Becca nodded. “And Thursday morning could you help me with Thanksgiving details?”
“Count me in, Mom.”
The Grands appeared at the kitchen door. “The good news is we’re ready for breakfast.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“Milo wet the bed.”
71
Monday, 7:31 AM
Hannah stepped out the kitchen door to enjoy morning birdcalls from the huge trees nearby. She loved the country feel of this old farmhouse. Even when they built their new house here, the surrounding multi-acre lots assured this continued closeness to nature.
Adam’s police shift began at noon, so a busy morning at home lay ahead for them. Transforming the old home’s interior exhilarated them. Her first project today: installing the new medicine cabinet. Only her mom could produce so specific a garage-sale item so fast.
Hannah found a Phillips screwdriver, got the cabinet out of the box and carried it to the bathroom. Adam still slept, so she’d work quietly, surprising him with a finished project when he awoke.
Emptying the cosmetics and pills from the old medicine cabinet, she found two screws on each side fastening the old cabinet to the studs. She removed the lower ones first, then the upper with greater care, bracing the cabinet to prevent its crashing to the floor. She eased the old one out and leaned it against the wall.
But as she lifted the new cabinet toward the vacated space, something caught her eye. Unlike wallboard or insulation, the unfinished opening behind the old cabinet revealed antique lathe-and-plaster construction found in civil-war era buildings. Stranger still, a small, rusted nail fastened a yellowed envelope to the lathing. On the envelope she read one faded word: “Mathis.”
Hannah put down the new cabinet and gently touched the envelope. Brittle around the edges, might it crumble if she removed it? Adam had been called Mathis when he lived here as a little boy—before his later adoptive parents renamed him. She tried to remember what her mother had learned about the people living here then.
Hannah tiptoed back to the kitchen, closed the door, dialed a phone number and spoke quietly.
“Mom, it’s Hannah. Have you a minute to talk about the old Yates house?... Good. When Mathis was born, weren’t his parents the only adults living in this house?... Okay. And didn’t you say the father was a tyrant who abused his wife and sons until sent to a booby-hatch where he later died?... So after the boys left didn’t the mother live in the house by herself like a hermit?... Wasn’t she trained as a school teacher?... Well, we just found something unusual and I’ll call you back when we know more abo
ut it….” Hannah laughed, “Yes, I know the suspense is killing you. Be brave, Mom.”
Hannah tiptoed back to the bathroom and studied the envelope. In the bedroom, she smiled at her husband’s peaceful sleep before gently nudging him awake. His eyes opened with the “where am I” expression until he saw her standing over him. He reached for her arm, pulled her into the bed, pinned her down beside him and kissed her well.
To her half-hearted protest he said sheepishly, “Hey, it’s not my fault. I am a newlywed.”
She giggled before extricating herself. “Adam, be serious. I just found something incredible you need to see right away.”
He traced a finger along her arm. “Can’t it wait?”
“No, it can’t. Hurry, you’ll see.” He followed her to the bathroom where they stared at the envelope. “It’s hung there a long time,” Hannah said. “Your mother taught school. Doesn’t this flawless cursive look like a teacher’s writing?”
“Slow down, Hannah. Who’s the detective here? Or are you turning into your mother?” They shared a laugh. He removed the envelope carefully. “Let’s see what this is about.”
Part of the faded envelope crumbled away as he unsealed it, revealing better preserved paper inside. He opened the tri-folded letter carefully. Hannah peeked over his shoulder as he read.
My Precious Child,
I hope you’re all grown up when you read this even though now you are my beautiful, perfect baby. Tobias frightens me every day, threatening to break my spirit, whatever it takes. Strange, because my parents valued my spirit. I think my spirit must be who I am. If he succeeds, will my body be an empty place with nobody home?
If Tobias finds this letter he’ll surely kill me. He’s acutely jealous of my deep love for you, dear little Mathis, so I show you my adoration when he is outside and can’t see me rocking you, cuddling you or humming songs to you. If I sing aloud he might hear me. I live in constant fear of what he’ll do next to me or to you. I must obey him, for what would happen to you if I died during one of his brutal tirades? He regularly threatens to maim you if I cringe at his evil whims or cry when he beats me. I live in terror of your safety.
This letter’s purpose is for you to know when you grow up that you are my proudest achievement, created in happiness with the only man I ever loved. A problem kept us from sharing our lives together, but in our hearts and your genes we’re irrevocably interlaced.
My heart is yours alone. I’ll shield you the best I can as long as I can. Whatever happens to me, my dearest wish is for you to grow into a bright, capable, loving man filled with your own unique, precious spirit.
My heart overflows with love for you, my sweet little boy,
Your devoted mother,
Wendey
Choking with emotion, Adam folded the letter with trembling hands.
Hannah knew from their intimate talks he’d never understood his mother’s cruelty to him. How could he have angered her enough to cut off his little finger? Why did she hate him? Had she ever loved him? Was it his fault? Had he been an unlovable person from the start?
The letter’s wrenching words answered those questions, proving beyond any doubt she’d cherished him—until Tobias drove her mad.
Suddenly Adam threw his arms around Hannah, clutched her and sobbed. She’d never seen him like this and winced at the depth of festering repressed anguish at last unleashed. Her heart ached as she comforted the man she loved, grappling with such emotional chaos. Swept into his experience as if it were hers, Hannah choked back her own sobs and hugged him tightly as they wept healing tears together.
72
Monday, 8:17 AM
“Good morning,” Ahmed said to the women at the breakfast table as he came inside from the yard. “I wakened early to finish the second garden this morning so you can add more plants whenever you like,” he announced.
“Will you join us for breakfast?” Khadija invited.
“Yes, thank you.” He sat down at the dining room table.
“Shall I drop Safia at school on my way to work this morning?” Khadija asked her mother.
“Yes, please,” Zayneb answered.
Heba entered the dining room, poured coffee and brought breakfast. Did she seem more relaxed than in the past or was this only Ahmed’s imagination? Others at the table also appeared relieved at avoiding Mahmud’s overshadowing dark presence. Even Zayneb smiled and talked. Only little Safia seemed downcast, but the others cheered her until she seemed happy as she headed toward the car with her sister.
As they watched the car drive away, Zayneb said, “Thank you, Ahmed, for helping me.”
“We solved it together.” He purposefully changed the subject. “Abdul will drive me to my business appointments today. May I have a key to the house to use as needed, please?”
“I have an extra one in the office.”
“Also I might come and go at unusual hours, so do not expect me for meals.” Realizing he often saw Khadija when they ate, he added quickly, “On the other hand, if I chance to be here at mealtime, dining with your family is always a privilege.”
Ahmed’s cell phone rang. “Abdul here,” said the voice. “I am close to your house. Will you lift the garage door for my arrival?” Ahmed said he would.
“I must open the garage now. I also need to keep an opener with me if you have another.”
“Yes, we have three, one for Khadija, one for me and one for…” She looked away. “The third one is for you now. I will bring you the key and the garage door opener.”
As Heba refilled his coffee cup, he thought he saw the trace of a smile. Because she always looked away modestly, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t look forward to the emergency meeting he called for five members of his cell, but he needed help regaining the diamonds so crucial to their plot. As their leader, he must maintain his men’s respect without admitting he’d lost the source of the mission’s funding. He crafted a plausible story.
Abdul drove him to the nearby meeting place, and he joined the men inside.
“Thank you for coming today. We have an unexpected problem to solve. The Great Leader knew the risk of bringing a large amount of cash into this country to fund our operation. In his wisdom he sent me instead with valuable diamonds, untraceable and easily converted to cash for weapons through our special contacts. Upon arriving, I hid the diamonds for safety until the money exchange. In a serious misunderstanding, the item containing the stones accidentally fell into another person’s hands. Today we will get them back.”
Noticing quizzical looks on his comrade’s faces, Ahmed continued. “A woman in McLean had the item in which the diamonds were hidden. We know she removed the stones. We do not know where she put them. We will persuade her to tell us and then eliminate her as a witness. We will wear balaclava disguises to prevent her recognizing us.”
“Does she live alone?”
“No, but we surreptitiously installed tiny surveillance cameras on a lamppost and two trees across the street from her house. We know who lives at her house, thus we will know when she is alone and the time is right. Stay close in McLean today and when I call you on our special cell phones, immediately stop other activity and assemble here. I will have masks and weapons. Here is the plan.”
He unfolded a hand-drawn sketch showing a house with cul-de-sac in front and parkland in back and along one side. “We arrive through these woods, break into the house, torture her and leave with the diamonds. Any questions?” Nobody spoke. “Then may Allah be with us, peace be upon Him.”
The others murmured assent and left.
73
Monday, 11:46 AM
“I’ll be at Serbian Crown if you need me, Becca. Back around two o’clock. You’ll find lunch for you and the Grands in the fridge. Have fun and remember to keep the doors locked. Probably overcautious, but why not?”
On impulse, Jennifer tucked into her pocket one of the diamonds she and Jason found two days ago during their basement search. She drove toward her lunch date with
Adam’s mysterious contact. The woman had sounded normal enough on the phone when Jen suggested lunch today, but who knew what lay ahead?
Driving along Route 7, Jennifer turned onto Colvin Mill Run, glancing as she drove past at the historic old Colvin Mill stone building with the large wooden waterwheel. Built circa 1811, the grain mill seemed a water-powered wonder then. She’d toured the restored mill with her own kids and made a mental note to bring the Grands soon. Those owners from two hundred years ago would marvel at the unimaginable changes since to McLean, Tyson Corner and environ. The original agricultural, dirt-road countryside with a few modest country stores had morphed into upscale residential communities and glass high-rises at Tyson Corner.
She turned at the restaurant and parked. Jennifer’s natural spontaneity had led her to rich friendships but also—she drew a nervous breath at the memory—into terrifying danger. Following Adam’s cautionary police advice, she’d meet with Veronika in this public place. Were legit psychics possible? She had her doubts.
When a woman matching Adam’s description of Veronika stepped from a car, Jennifer hustled toward the entrance and introduced herself outside the front door.
Entering Serbian Crown, Jennifer felt like Dorothy going from Kansas to Oz, but in this case from McLean to Europe. The old-world décor and artifacts provided the convincing backdrop for their well-known Russian and continental cuisine. The host knew both Veronika and Jennifer but seemed surprised they knew each other. He showed them to a window table.
“Jennifer, I thank you for coming today.” Veronika smiled. “Curious?”
Jennifer chuckled at the woman’s candor. She liked this direct approach. “Curious for sure,” she agreed. “What’s this all about, Veronika? You must think it important.”
The older woman frowned. “Important, yes, and together we may understand why. First let’s order vodka. They serve it frozen almost to slush. Do you like flavored or plain?”
“Not my normal drink but today with you it is vodka at noon.” She selected a flavor. Imbedded in a bucket-size chunk of ice, the vodka bottle lay heavily on the waiter’s arm. He poured the chilled liquid expertly, filling the small glasses to the very top where surface tension created a slight bulge above the rim of the glass.