Allure of Deceit

by Susan Froetschel

  She held the glass with both hands and leaned forward. “Correct me if I’m wrong. Do you want to find out who’s responsible for the death of your son and his wife?”

  Smoothing the top of the tablecloth with her hand, Lydia did not know how to proceed. Her grief was still surging, motivating her every day. Yet she was not so foolish to believe that exposing her son’s killer would bring relief. Lydia didn’t want to say much. Raw, unhindered grief frightened the uninitiated, and Cara would realize that Lydia’s had not faded.

  “Maybe you have ideas?” Lydia kept her voice light.

  Cara put her wine to the side. “How close are you with Paul?”

  He was her son’s good friend. But Lydia had not met with him alone in recent years. “Not as close as we once were,” she admitted.

  Cara pointed out Lydia did not need permission to investigate criminal activity on the job. “You can apply computer forensics if he has used foundation resources in communications or travel planning.”

  Lydia’s head was racing. Suspicions had crept up and multiplied, but she could be wrong. How could she explain that, until she knew, everyone was a suspect? It would be awful to destroy a relationship with one of her son’s closest friends.

  She had to be careful. Picking up her knife, Lydia slowly spread cheese over the warm Galician bread, indulging in a memory of Michael and Paul in kindergarten. The families were neighbors. Paul’s parents were never home, and Lydia invited the boy along on playground, library, and shopping trips. She had orchestrated the friendship. As they grew older, Paul was the better student, and his parents tried to convince the boys to join soccer and other sports teams. Michael ignored the adults and set the agenda, searching for every opportunity to get outdoors, find appliances to pull apart in the garage, and practice programming on the computer. Paul adored Michael and went along. Later Michael confided that his friend had become a habit. “Like a brother?” she asked. Michael offered a slight smile. “Maybe because there was no choice.”

  A long spell of silence passed, and Cara was patient.

  If Lydia didn’t trust Paul, she couldn’t trust anyone, and that made her ashamed. She couldn’t let Annie or the other staff members guess the purpose behind her proposal for an award.

  “This is so difficult,” Lydia said. She passed the manchego cheese to Cara. “I had hoped he would replace me on the board.”

  “You want to clear his name.” The young woman placed her hand over Lydia’s. She could start by going through Lydia’s e-mails for messages sent by Paul. She asked if Lydia still had her son’s computers, phones, or other electronics and would go through those. “I can identify the IP addresses and check for patterns. None of this is illegal.”

  They could also bait Paul into cooperating with a background check. The award could lead to promotion—Paul replacing Lydia as a GlobalConnect board member. The confidential investigation would start as soon as Lydia was ready.

  “Start now,” Lydia whispered.

  CHAPTER 22

  The guard escorted the attorney, flushed with excitement, into Leila’s cell. She lifted her head. “Back so soon?”

  “You have a visitor—your brother!” he announced. The guard would allow a short visit if Leila agreed.

  She lifted her eyebrows. She had no brothers, but she did not tell the attorney. He wanted to sit in, but Leila was stubborn about wanting to meet with her sibling alone.

  “You can question him afterward,” Leila assured the attorney.

  He lowered his voice. “You must ask about the baby, but be careful. The walls have mice, and the mice have ears.” Then he knocked for the guard to open the door and in walked Thara with cropped hair and dirty clothes. The fools! A close look at her hands, her eyes, or mouth, and they should have immediately recognized a pretty young girl from the countryside. The lawyers believed whatever lies they were told.

  Leila stood and waited, her head high with the lopsided smile, and Thara hurried to hug Leila.

  “It’s good to see you, Brother.” Leila feigned a slight catch in her voice. “The first time in months I’ve seen family.”

  The attorney pressed once more to stay, but the guard glanced toward Leila and refused. The guard might listen in, her cellmates might offer reports, but she worried most about the attorney. She waited for the door to slam.

  Leila gave a happy squeal and dropped her voice to a whisper. “How did you get away? Did you run away? Is that why you’re dressed like a boy?”

  “It was the only way I could travel,” Thara admitted.

  Eager to relay her good fortunes in prison, Leila directed Thara to sit on the carpet. She talked about her classes, the charities, and hinted about a growing fund. But the girl was distracted and kept glancing around the cell. Leila asked when Thara had arrived in the city, and was pleased to hear that very day.

  Leila was still a priority in her sister’s life, and that meant Thara would do her bidding.

  One question burned inside, and there was only one answer she wanted to hear. It would be agonizing to hear that the man who had destroyed her family still controlled Laashekoh. Even though she was in prison, hours away from Laashekoh, Leila could not let anyone, even Thara, connect her with Parsaa’s demise.

  “It must be horrible in Laashekoh, and I don’t miss it at all.”

  Thara shook her head. “Not so horrible, but they do ignore us. They separated us. I was with Karimah.”

  “That boz,” Leila said. “So you’re not going back?”

  Thara eyed the concrete-block walls and the pile of books and papers near the mat where Leila slept. “She wasn’t so bad.”

  “But you won’t go back,” Leila pointed out.

  Thara laughed and nodded.

  “Has Laashekoh changed?” Leila had to know.

  The younger girl shrugged and then shook her head. So Zahira had not kept her promise to send Parsaa and his family away. For the first time while in prison, Leila felt trapped and betrayed. Her sister looked uncomfortable, probably ashamed of a family member in prison.

  “You used the money I hid.” The comment was a reminder and not a question, but Thara nodded. “I’m glad because I don’t need it.” Leila tossed her head. “Believe it or not, I am free here. I’m alone and do as I please and don’t have to work in fields.” She promised that her time in prison would not last long.

  Thara said she was happy that her sister was happy.

  Leila babbled on with excitement. “And you will be happy in Kandahar, too. The attorneys are raising funds to repair my face, and more than enough money has already come in. There is no need for you to return to Laashekoh. The attorney can help you stay in the city. As soon as I leave prison, we can live together and even travel.”

  “But what about the baby, Leila?” Thara whispered.

  Annoyed, Leila stood and paced in the tight space. “The attorney told you to ask? It’s all he cares about!”

  “He did ask, and I explained that I had to talk with you. He seemed upset that we may not know where the baby is at.” Thara shrank back as if she expected her sister to have a fit, but Leila was pleased.

  “That was excellent what you told him.” Leila placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “We do not want the attorneys asking questions in Laashekoh. Do not tell him any more.” She spun around and resumed pacing. “Yes, Sister, you will like Kandahar. The market is huge, and the homes are comfortable and large. Wait for me until I leave here . . . and we will travel.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “But first, you must help me.”

  “With the baby?” Thara stared at her sister and waited.

  “That is all the attorney talks about. You must go with him to retrieve your niece. She is near Laashekoh.”

  “I can’t go back there!” Thara shook her head vehemently.

  “You must tell him that and keep him away from the village. Tell him how horrible it is, how no one can be believed there.” Leila moved her lips close to Thara’s ear. Her words were as
soft as breathing. She explained how the sisters had visited the place once or twice when they were young and reminded Thara how to find the canyon trail and reach the secluded compound. “You can do it. The attorney can force Zahira to hand the child over to its aunt. You must go and help him take the baby away from Zahira.”

  Thara was silent, and Leila continued. “If the woman argues, explain she did not keep her end of our bargain. She lied. That’s all. No one needs to know more. Take the baby away and bring her here.”

  But Thara worried about the villagers and asked why the attorney could not go on his own. Leila laughed and explained how her attorneys were more powerful than anyone in Laashekoh. But he would not find Zahira’s compound on his own. Thara looked unconvinced.

  “And once you are outside the prison, you must explain that you are my sister, not a brother,” Leila ordered. “The attorney gets very upset when I lie to him.”

  Thara repeated her fears. She did not want to go near Laashekoh. “They are searching for me.”

  Leila chided her sister about not understanding the ways of city people. The attorney had a car, and the trip would pass very quickly. “You can leave here and return in one day. Tell him how unbearable the village is, and he can protect you from Parsaa and the other fools. Bring the baby girl back here. You can be an auntie and care for her and love her and visit me.”

  The guard clanged on the door. The visit was over. Leila hugged her sister and whispered. “I have great wealth. Tell the attorney how much Parsaa abused our family. Help me with this matter, and once I am out of jail, I will take care of you.”

  “Khoda negahdar,” Thara said softly.

  The parting words sounded so final, more fearful than pleased, though her little sister would soon learn the ways of the city. Leila was relieved to have attorneys. She no longer needed her family.

  The attorney escorted Thara through the prison, and once again, she followed his advice, waiting to ask questions until they stepped outside. “Too many ears,” he said.

  After stepping beyond the prison gate, he grasped Thara’s shoulder before she could run off to rejoin Saddiq and Fatima. His first question was on the whereabouts of the baby girl, and Thara admitted the child was living with a woman near Laashekoh. Crouching down, he wanted to know the woman’s name, her relationship, the condition of her house. He asked how much villagers knew about the baby and if they would fight for the child.

  Thara explained that the villagers had no idea the baby was living so close by, and she was not sure whether they would care. She repeated Leila’s rough directions. Locating the child would not be easy for the attorney.

  “Do you think your sister is telling the truth?” he asked.

  She nodded slowly. Thara had told the man enough. It was a compromise. She owed Saddiq so much, and he could reach the baby first. Saddiq no longer needed her and would leave Kandahar, and Thara could stay with Fatima, who gave her choices and would not force her to travel with the attorney to retrieve the child. Thara had her own ideas. She did not want to wander with Saddiq. She would not rely on Leila, raising the infant and waiting for her sister to leave prison. Fatima promised her shelter, school, and food. The woman asked about Thara’s preferences and more than once advised that she did not have to answer questions, return to Laashekoh, or enter the prison.

  Thara apologized to the attorney. “My sister is truthful, but I am not. I am a girl and must stay with Fatima.”

  The attorney didn’t seem surprised and thanked her for extracting the baby’s location from Leila. He would head to the compound the next day, and he stressed that there was no need for Thara to accompany him. He would find the place.

  Thara dipped her head. The attorney and Leila did not need to know Saddiq’s plans. Leila had disappointed Thara. Her sister cared little about how Thara had managed to travel to Kandahar on her own. Leila asked no questions about the other sisters living in Laashekoh. She simply expected Thara to follow her orders and be available to watch the child.

  The attorney and Thara rejoined Fatima and Saddiq sitting in the shade of the large car. Saddiq sipped on a bottle of juice, and Fatima handed one to Thara. The liquid was sweet, sour, yellow, tingly. Her tongue had never swallowed a beverage so delicious.

  As the two adults conversed, a hopeful Saddiq pulled Thara aside. Even once the attorney said his farewells, Fatima waited with patience.

  “Did you see the baby?” Saddiq whispered.

  She felt sorry for him. Placing her hand on his arm, she explained that the baby was no longer in the prison. He was devastated.

  “But it may be better this way.” Thara hurried to explain that the baby was not far from Laashekoh, at the compound of a reclusive woman known as Zahira. “You won’t have to travel so far with the baby.”

  Skeptical, Saddiq asked why a woman would choose to live alone, away from Laashekoh. Perhaps Leila was lying. But Thara had no doubt that the woman cared for the child, and she pointed out that Leila’s attorney also wanted the child. Thara passed along detailed directions to Saddiq for finding the canyon trail with the exact location of the entrance near the river flowing past Laashekoh. “The others don’t know that you traveled here for the baby,” Thara assured him. “But you must hurry. Leila is desperate. The attorney plans to leave tomorrow, and he will travel by car.”

  As she expected, Saddiq was nervous and ready to leave Kandahar. Thara smiled and told him not to fear. “He will struggle to find the entrance and will soon discover how difficult the trails are around there.” Thara looked back at the prison and warned that retrieving the baby would not be easy. “Zahira may argue about handing the child over. Maybe you should get your father to help.”

  “Maybe,” Saddiq said. “I’ll try on my own first.”

  Thara told him the baby was a girl, but Saddiq did not care. “She is Ali’s daughter and your niece. The baby will be loved,” he said.

  Feeling sorry for her old friend, Thara wondered when she might see him again. He had been so happy about arriving in Kandahar, so sure about his mission. After meeting Fatima, Thara was sure about her future, too.

  “Will you miss Laashekoh?” He was resigned.

  “I can’t return.” Thara stared at the highway and the moving cars. “Though I have learned how quickly I can change my mind. Back in Laashekoh, I missed Leila so much and felt sorry for her. And now that I’m here, I wish that I could thank Karimah for all she did. She was fair.” She shook her head. “But you cannot talk to her about me, and I cannot go back.”

  He admitted to understanding why Thara did not want to return. Thara tried to cheer him. “No one in Laashekoh will ever know that you brought me here, and it would have been far too difficult carrying a baby back to Laashekoh on your own. Allah is still with you, Saddiq.” Taking his hands, Thara squeezed and promised she would never forget how much he had helped her. “You will always be my brother. I only want to be like you someday, ready to help another person.”

  Once more, Fatima invited him to stay the night at the center and leave the next morning. The woman had no idea about his mission to find the baby. Instead, he expressed gratitude for her kindness and immediately set off down the highway, back toward Laashekoh.

  CHAPTER 23

  A sudden shift in the weather, with warmer temperatures, allowed the men of Laashekoh to sit in a circle around the crackling flames. The ground was wet, the hour was late, and ideas and plans leaped like sparks in the fire. Muscles ached after days of hard work, soothed by the mental relief that the harvest was complete, the crops tallied and divided among households, with plenty left over for sale at the market. The women were pleased. There would be no worries over paying bills and taxes or feeding families throughout the winter.

  So much work completed despite the hours spent hunting for the missing girl. Once again, most of the villagers had searched throughout the day, and still there was no clue. The consensus—the girl was no longer near Laashekoh.

  Parsaa was unusually qui
et, and the others didn’t notice. As they talked, he kept his worries inside. He had spent the past days walking in ever-widening circles around Laashekoh, following familiar trails, hoping to find Saddiq. But there was no sign of either child. Inside, he knew the boy was capable and sensible. Like his wife, Parsaa had his suspicions, but he refused to speak of them out loud.

  He would have preferred searching into the night, but that would have prompted questions. So he sat with the others and pretended to listen to banter. The man would not admit that he had no idea on the whereabouts of his oldest son or how the boy had probably helped Thara leave the village.

  So far, no one connected the two children, and Parsaa was grateful. The crime was unthinkable.

  Early that first day of Saddiq’s absence, Parsaa had detected a few depressions in the snow, evenly spaced and rounded, but lacking the gait of a large man. The tracks circled throughout the village and also led to a nearby creek. Parsaa didn’t ask Ahmed for an opinion.

  Snow kept falling, and searchers crossed back and forth, obliterating the soft impressions, and Parsaa kept his relief to himself.

  The next day, a few villagers asked about Saddiq, and Parsaa was brief. The boy was on an errand for his father, and that ended the questions. The villagers trusted Parsaa. Such trust was why Parsaa so appreciated the village and why he felt so guilty. He wondered why Saddiq could not confide in his father.

  The other men spoke about the new fields ready for spring planting. The night would be so peaceful if only Parsaa knew where his son slept. He closed his eyes with weariness and sensed an interruption only when the conversation went silent.

  Opening his eyes, Parsaa glanced at the other men to follow the direction of their eyes. A shadowy figure stood by the wall. Parsaa’s eyes could no longer pierce the darkness, but the figure did not seem huge. The younger men did not reach for their weapons. Parsaa waited for others to speak up.

  “Salaam alaikum,” Ahmed called out. “Join us, friend.”