Page 51 of Kiss Her Goodbye (Frankie Elkin #4)

We leave Daryl behind for the finishing touches. Again, we all have our assignments.

Genni’s primary responsibility is Zahra.

For the occasion, she has ditched her vintage costumes and sky-high heels.

Instead, she’s as demurely clad as I’ve ever seen her in sleek black trousers and a wraparound leopard-print top.

There’s an alertness to the way she moves, head on a swivel, feet poised for action.

I can see remnants of the street kid she used to be, constantly vigilant, never relaxing. I wonder how many rusty blades she’s packing, and for Zahra’s sake, I’m already grateful for each and every one.

Roberta has her disguise, Genni her ensemble. And I’m once again just me. I’m not a superhero and I know it.

Genni will drop Roberta and me off at the edge of the strip mall where Aliah’s deli is located. We’ve chosen Genni and her truck because to the best of our knowledge, no one knows about her, making her the safest option for secreting us about.

She will depart with Zahra and head to a public place. We don’t know where and we don’t want to know. That way, should things go awry…

In what will hopefully be an excellent piece of theater, I will hastily escort a cowering and frightened Sabera-clad Roberta to the front of Aliah’s deli, where Aliah’s car is still parked.

Our job is to look both rushed and terrified, while also taking enough time to attract notice of anyone who might be watching.

Next step, commandeer the car and drive to the warehouse district, where we know our evildoers like to operate.

More theater. Drive about here and there. Not too fast, not too slow, always looking, looking, looking, as if we actually know what we’re doing and at any time might discover Farshid and company’s lair.

With any luck, we will officially grab their attention. The moment we pick up the hint of a tail…

Rush back to the estate, bringing our shadow with us.

Where we will transition from warm-up act to the main event.

Is this plan terribly brilliant? No.

Can it totally, absolutely fail? Yep.

And yet… The police have made no progress locating Aliah or Sabera. We’ve been equally unsuccessful. Best results thus far have been others finding us, from Captain Kurtz to Lilla No Last Name.

At a certain point, might as well play to our strengths.

If we can pull the kidnappers away from Aliah, get even one of them to take the bait and follow us back to the estate where we’re all set up to turn the tables and ambush them… We need a win and there’s not much time left on the clock.

Genni gets us to the brightly lit strip mall. Nine P.M. , still plenty of people strolling about, loading up groceries, grabbing takeout. So many ordinary people, going through just another day in the life.

The one thing I’ve never been able to do, no matter how hard I’ve tried.

Genni pulls over at the edge of the main parking lot. Zahra gives us all a questioning look. Roberta and I paste on our brightest smiles.

All good. Nothing to see here.

We slide out. They continue on.

And the show begins.

ROBERTA IS PARTICULARLY excellent as a nervous nelly.

She cowers beside me, tucking beneath my left arm as if there’s no way she could continue without my steadfast strength.

I pull myself taller, champion of the downtrodden, as I scan the horizon and scowl fiercely at anyone who dares draw too close.

We traverse the entire length of the massive grocery. Pass a nutrition center, Mexican restaurant, mattress center, nail salon.

Turn the corner.

The storefronts are smaller here, the parking spaces less illuminated.

I can just make out Aliah’s silver compact, parked where she left it two days ago. I feel a pang, fight it.

We’re going to make this plan work. We’re going to save Aliah. We’re going to locate Sabera.

Failure is not an option.

Which bolsters my spirit right until the moment we slide into the front of Aliah’s car. I start the engine and the point of a blade digs into the back of my neck.

Followed by a low, fierce voice growling from behind me: “What have you done with my daughter!”

Sabera Ahmadi materializes in the back seat. She definitely appears worse for the wear.

And based on expression alone, not that terribly sane.