Imtiaz and her nightmare seemed a world away.
Chapter 20
Abby’s legs jerked wildly as she tried to break her fall, and she woke with a start, her eyes slamming open. She sat up and took a deep breath, wiping away the film of sweat that had formed on her brow, but she could see him still—the shadowy figure of the man who’d haunted her since Geneva. With his tapered fingers, patrician nose, and silver eyeglasses, there was something almost elegant about him. A man of substance and importance, that’s what he was, Abby thought—a man who mattered. She stood and opened the curtains, the flood of sunlight hurting her eyes. She swallowed two Motrin to head off the pounding she was sure was about to start.
At least she wasn’t in this nightmare alone anymore. With Nick to listen and investigate, she knew she had an ally. An image of him drifted through her thoughts, and she wondered when he’d be back. She missed him, she missed the inevitability of his visits, and he’d only been gone a few days. She wondered where he was, and what he was doing, and if just maybe he was thinking about her too.
Stop analyzing this, she chided herself. She took a slow, deep breath and finished up her morning routine before slipping her feet into her worn sandals and stepping out of her room in search of coffee and perhaps the company of Hana.
She poked her head into the kitchen and saw the housekeeper at the sink. “Good morning, Hana.”
Hana turned, a look of defeat on her face. She nodded and turned away.
Had she heard something about her son? Abby wondered. She moved closer. “Is everything all right?”
Hana pulled her hands from the soapy water. “Najeela’s here. In there.” She nodded toward the dining room. “Coffee’s in there too.”
“Thanks, Hana.” Abby took a long, deep breath and headed to the dining room.
“Oh, good morning,” Najeela said, her tone as frosty as a Boston winter.
Abby felt the unmistakable chill in the room, but decided to ignore it. “Morning,” she said, sliding into a seat and pouring a cup of coffee.
“Uncle Imtiaz told me he stopped by yesterday.”
“That’s something we should talk about.” Abby sipped her coffee, feeling her face flush with anger at the memory.
“He was very disappointed in you.” Najeela pouted. “He thought, well, he thought you were rude. I’m sorry to say that, but he felt very badly, and I was surprised to hear it.”
“Oh, Najeela, are you kidding me? He shouldn’t even be here! It’s not really proper for him to visit me if you’re not here, is it?”
Najeela’s pout grew thicker, but she was silent.
“And he was aggressive. He has no business touching me or coming here to see me. And you know that.”
Najeela’s eyes grew wide. “I . . . I, no, he shouldn’t be here, you’re right. I don’t want him to come between us. We are still friends, you and I, aren’t we?” Her voice cracked at the question.
“We are, Najeela, we are,” Abby said, trying to soothe her friend’s hurt feelings. “But I’m not your uncle’s friend. Understand?” She reached across the table and took Najeela’s hands in her own. “Friends, you and I?”
Najeela nodded. “And, of course, he should never come here if I’m not here. I’ll make sure he knows that in the future.”
Hana bustled in carrying a tray filled with eggs and toast. The morning menu had certainly improved around here, Abby thought.
“Shukria, Hana,” Najeela said, reaching for a slice of toast. Her sleeve slipped back from her outstretched arm, revealing a shimmering diamond cuff bracelet.
When Abby caught sight of the glitter, her mouth opened wide in surprise, and she almost choked on the coffee she’d been swallowing.
“Be careful, Abby,” Najeela warned. “Don’t drink hot coffee too quickly.”
Abby sputtered and fought to regain her composure. “Your bracelet is stunning. Is it new?”
Najeela twisted the bangle on her wrist and admired the encrusted gems. The bangle was slim, not the thick cuff of Abby’s dream, but the similarity was unmistakable. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a bracelet,” Abby said, trying to keep her tone breezy.
“You haven’t? Oh my, I have bracelets, but perhaps I don’t wear them often. I think I’m afraid that I’ll forget to take them off before I leave for home.” She rubbed at the bracelet with her sleeve and held her arm up to Abby. “See how it glitters. I just love it, but if my father saw it, he’d kill me. I know he would.”
Abby relaxed. Lots of people had bracelets, for Christ’s sake. She was seeing deception and intrigue everywhere. Maybe she’d been listening to Nick’s stories a little too much. She decided to change the subject.
“You haven’t spoken to your father yet about . . .” Abby paused. She’d forgotten his name. Oh, jeez, what was it?
“Lars,” Najeela said quickly. “No, I haven’t. There’s just so much going on with the government here in Pakistan, the riots and tension. It’s just not a good time.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Najeela, I’m sorry. I haven’t even thought to ask how things were. But, don’t lose hope. If you’re in love, it will work out. You must have faith in that, in him.”
Najeela sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Abby, you make me feel better every time we speak. Can we spend the day together? Maybe shop?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m going to that rescue house I told you about. I’m going to help out there.”
Najeela’s eyes sparkled. “May I come along? Lars would be so proud to know that I’m helping.”
“I . . . I, well, I’ll ask, but I think since the house is new and people are just getting to know one another, it may be too soon to introduce another new person.”
Disappointment etched itself into Najeela’s frown. “Don’t forget your other duties.”
“I won’t. And about today, it’s just that I’m so new to them, it’s not right for me to bring a visitor. You understand?”
Najeela seemed satisfied with Abby’s answer. “Acha.”
“And we’ll go out again soon. The Pearl Continental, for lunch?” Abby asked.
Najeela smiled, and they finished breakfast in silence.
Abby rose to leave. “I’ll see you later?” she asked, careful not to upset Najeela.
Najeela nodded, and once Abby had gathered her bag, she hurried through the door and to the waiting car.
“Morning, Mohammed. Do you remember the house we went to with Zara?”
He nodded. “Go today?”
Abby smiled in reply. “You remember where it is?”
Mohammed opened the rear door, and Abby slid into the backseat of the car. Her skin was damp with perspiration and she sat uneasily on the vinyl seats. Already, at this early hour, the heat of the day had settled into Peshawar, sucking the air, the life, out of everything. The people and the flowers, she saw as they drove, had gone limp, and even the city’s stray dogs were quiet.
The house was quiet too when Abby arrived. “Salaam,” she called out, her voice echoing in the empty hallway. “Hello?” she asked into the silence. A patter of feet approached from behind, and Abby, still wary from her dream, spun around anxiously.
Mariyah stood there, a worried look on her face. “We waiting on you,” she said slowly, her scar forming a deep frown on her face.
“What is it?” Abby asked.
“Girls gone,” Mariyah said.
Abby felt a knot of worry explode in her head.
Chapter 21
Abby raced along the hall to the small room where she’d first met the girls. She opened the door wide. The room was empty.
Abby turned to Mariyah. “Is Zara here?” Oh, God, Abby thought, did someone take them? Imtiaz? Did he know about this house?
“Where is everyone?” she asked too abruptly. Mariyah’s face crumpled into fear, and Abby took a deep breath and reached for Mariyah. “I’m sorry. I know that you’re afraid for the girls too.”
“I afraid, yes. Anyu gone too, and
Zara go to Peshawar police station to file report. We not know anything.” Mariyah’s eyes filled with tears, and she wiped her hand across her face.
The unrelenting fear that until this moment Abby had felt only in her dreams was suddenly real, and she felt acid churning in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze swept the room for anything that would give her a clue, and her eyes fixed on a piece of brown paper tangled in the sheets. The wrapping from her package, she thought, snatching it up like some precious stone. She turned to Mariyah.
A faint smile dotted Mariyah’s scarred lips. “Girls receive new things yesterday. Very happy, but not take off other clothes. Put new things on over old smelly clothes.” Mariyah held her own nose to demonstrate. “Zara say it because girls afraid. Old things from home—not want to leave behind. Understand?”
Abby nodded and closed her eyes. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought that they were somewhere out there with Anyu. Please, God, she prayed, keep them safe. Find them for us. She stepped outside the room and pulled the door closed behind her. “There’s nothing left to do but worry, so let’s sit and have some tea until Zara comes.”
Mariyah nodded, and Abby followed her into the kitchen, where Bina sat sipping tea. She nodded in silence when Abby entered the room.
Abby swallowed her own fears and tried to smile. “They’ll be all right. We have to believe that. Once Zara returns from the police, we’ll have an idea of what we can do.”
“We have had look around house,” Mariyah said. “Money from drawer and a little food from cupboard gone too. Anyu took, we think, to help them run.” Mariyah scratched her head. “We would have helped them if they’d asked. Now, we worry.”
“What about the guard?” Abby asked. “Didn’t he see anything?”
“He asleep. He here but asleep, not see anything. He feel very bad, understand?”
Abby nodded. “But why would Anyu leave? Isn’t she safest here?”
Mariyah shrugged. “She afraid she in big trouble because of man in Delhi. She afraid Nick will tell police she here.”
“Oh, shit,” Abby groaned. “But Nick wouldn’t say a word. Ever.”
Mariyah nodded, and Bina rose, collecting cups and bowls and spoons. She lit the stove and set the kettle on to boil. She spooned a serving of yogurt into each bowl and passed the first one to Abby, who spooned the creamy blend into her mouth. Her lips puckered instantly at the unexpected sour taste. She tried to smile to prevent the wrinkle in her lips from spreading and looked up to see Mariyah holding back a laugh.
“Sorry, Abby,” she said, covering her mouth with her veil, but unable to cover the laugh that escaped from her lips. “We make this. But maybe we need more practice.”
Abby let the pucker on her lips fill her mouth and nodded her agreement. The women laughed, then turned as the front door opened and then banged shut. Zara entered the room in a rush of air and threw herself into a chair.
“The police were not much help. They said Pari and Geeta weren’t being sold after all. They were headed to Kuwait to be married, and the money that had changed hands was for the dowry. Can you believe that?” Zara dabbed at her eyes. “They said Anyu and the girls have run away from us, but since they took our money and food, if we press charges, they will look for them, but if not, they won’t help us. They said if they happen to see the girls on the street, they will pick them up, but they are too busy to look for every runaway in Peshawar, and they won’t search.” A sob escaped Zara’s lips. “The girls are just babies, and poor Anyu is broken, and the police won’t help. They told me to place their pictures in the Protection Tent. They said it is my job to find them, not theirs.” Silent tears trickled from Zara’s eyes and she wiped at them with her veil. “But we don’t even have pictures of them. We don’t even have that.”
“But we have each other, and we have pictures of all of them in our heads,” Abby said. “We can search. They can’t have gotten very far.”
Zara slumped in her chair. “Abby, how can we look? Where would we even begin?”
“We start here, with you and me, and with Mariyah and Bina, all of us together.” Abby looked at each of the women in turn. “Think back to when you were first taken. Bina, you said you’d wanted only to escape. Where did you want to escape to?”
“Home,” Bina said sadly and without hesitation. “Same today. For me, home.”
Abby motioned to Mariyah, who nodded. “Home,” she whispered.
“What about Anyu? Where would she go? Home or Delhi? Which makes sense for her?”
“Maybe home or maybe she’ll take the girls to Mumbai,” Zara answered. “She was so sad after she shared her story, and I think a part of her was afraid that the police would come and take her away.”
“Is Mumbai the best place to look then? Does everyone agree?”
The women nodded, and Abby turned back to Zara. “The police confirmed the girls are from Mumbai?”
“They did. They said the girls were from the slums there.”
“Okay,” Abby said, “Mumbai. We need a map. I can check on the Internet and look at the route they might take. The train tracks that run through University Town, where do they go?”
“Through Islamabad and on to the border with India,” Zara replied.
“Did they take enough money for train fare?”
“Probably it’s enough,” Zara said.
“Is there an Internet connection here in the house?” Abby asked.
Zara shook her head. “No. We hoped to do that, but not yet.”
Abby sighed. “That’s a problem. We need to know the roads and train routes before we search. I’m going to have to leave, go back to my house for a bit and research the roads and train routes, and I’ll be back. Okay?”
Zara’s frown eased. “We can have another look here. See if they left anything behind or maybe there’s a hint of their plans. We haven’t really looked in Anyu’s room. We were just so worried about the girls, we kind of forgot Anyu. We just have to look.”
For the first time since she’d learned of the girls’ disappearance, Abby felt a tinge of hope, and she smiled. “We can do this. As soon as I can print out some maps and information, I’ll be back and we can start looking.”
“Nick?” Zara asked. “Has he come back yet?”
Abby shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, wishing he were here helping in the search.
• • •
Abby and Mohammed pulled into the drive at home at the same moment that a long, black limousine was pulling out. The car stopped abruptly, and Abby, anxious that it might be Imtiaz, watched nervously as a window rolled open. A smiling Najeela leaned out, and Abby, relieved to see it was her, waved.
“Abby, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tomorrow.” A sudden breeze ruffled Najeela’s hair, and her hands shot up to smooth her waves into place. She sat back quickly, one hand waving as the car pulled away.
Abby was relieved. She could check the routes on the Internet and get back to the rescue house without explaining herself. She raced to the office and tried to connect, but the Internet was down. “Damn it,” she shouted, her frustration bubbling over.
Suddenly she heard soft, hurried footsteps, and Hana appeared at the door, worry etched on her face. “What is it?”
“Sorry, Hana. I didn’t realize you were here. I just needed to do some work on the Internet and it’s down. I’m just frustrated.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Hana’s mouth. “Your friend the reporter was here.”
“Nick?” Abby almost shouted his name. “He’s back?”
Hana nodded and handed Abby a business card. “He said to call.”
Abby took the card and saw a number scrawled on the back. Abby headed to the hallway. “Hana, I’ve never asked—does the phone work?”
“It does. Well, it does most days.”
Abby picked up the heavy, black phone and dialed the number on the card.
“Green’s Hotel,” a woman answered softly.
“N
ick Sinclair’s room, please.”
The phone rang, and after what seemed an eternity, Nick finally answered, his voice heavy with sleep. “Hello.”
“Nick, it’s Abby—”
“I’ll see you later.”
Abby knew that he was about to hang up, that she had exactly one second to get his attention. “No,” she shouted, her voice a little too shrill. “Don’t hang up, and don’t go back to sleep. It’s important.”
Nick cleared his throat, and Abby could almost feel that he had snapped to attention. “What is it?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone, but can you just get here?”
“Jesus, are you all right?”
“I am, but just get here. Okay?”
“Okay. Give me a few minutes and I’m on my way.”
Abby sighed heavily and replaced the phone on its old cradle. When she turned, Hana was standing there, her arms folded, her eyes intent on Abby.
“Is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure. I’m worried about a friend. Do you know anything about these railroad tracks that run along this road out front?”
“I know the trains come by once, sometimes twice, a day to Islamabad, and you can change there to India. Are you traveling?”
Abby shook her head. “Is it expensive?”
“No, you can travel for eight hundred rupees.”
Abby’s brain jammed as she tried to calculate the dollar equivalent. It was one hundred rupees to a dollar so . . .
“About eight US dollars,” Hana said, sensing Abby’s confusion.
“Thanks, Hana. How do you know all this?”
“I wasn’t always a housekeeper,” she snapped, scurrying off down the hall.
Anyu and the girls could be on a train, and if they were, if they were already traveling, there’d be no way to find them. Abby fell into her chair and sighed.
The Bracelet Page 19