Page 78 of Kiss Her Goodbye

I don’t realize I’m crying till I feel the first drop of moisture trail down my cheek.I swipe at it immediately, mortified to find myself so easily undone by pure fantasy.What is wrong with me these days?

Then I picture Vaughn and the look on his face as he drove me to the bus stop, unloaded my single bag, and handed it over to me.Understanding.Empathy.Acceptance.

I’m not sure which hurts more.

I roll onto my side and sob in earnest, ugly, messy tears I do my best to get out once and for all.

Then I sit up, wipe off my face, and prepare for the day ahead.

BREAKFAST THIS MORNINGinvolves golden biscuits smothered in sausage gravy.Poolside play completed, Daryl is on his second helping, looking uncharacteristically casual in red swim trunks and a frayed V-neck T-shirt that shows off heavily muscled arms and an incredibly furry chest.Kind of like a bear dressed for a day at the beach.

Aliah is in her usual jeans and flowing top—apparently Daryl was in charge of pool duty.Zahra sits between them, smothering a split biscuit in strawberry jam—not her first, judging by the smears of sticky red adorning her smiling face.

I head straight for coffee, down the first few sips while standing.

Genni is frying up some eggs.She gives me a questioning look,but I shake my head, not ready for food just yet.Petunia, I noticed, is back to sunbathing in front of the glass sliders.She’s keeping a wary look on the small human, but with Zahra safely occupied at the table, all is well for the moment.

“How did you sleep?”I ask Aliah at last, pulling out a chair.

“Like a baby.This place is amazing.”

“And you, Zahra?Looks like you discovered the pool.”I flash the girl a smile.Her still-wet purple swim shirt and trunks are creating a puddle on the kitchen floor.Far from being put out, Genni appears completely enthralled with her new pint-sized charge.If you like to cook and clean, I suppose a four-year-old would be a source of happiness.

Now Zahra nods in earnest, then shoves half a biscuit in her mouth, adding to the butter dotting her chin.This is the most childlike I’ve ever seen her.Like an honest to goodness preschooler.I wonder how many of these moments she’s had, and given what’s happened with her parents, how many more she’ll have next.

Aliah has a fierce expression on her face as she watches the girl lick crumbs from her fingers.Whatever happens, I have no doubt she’ll fight for Zahra’s best interests.Which is good, because I don’t have great feelings about how this case will end.The body count is getting very high, the threat of horrific violence too real.

Whatever’s going on here, the people involved are playing for keeps.

I take another sip of steaming black coffee.Clear my throat.Then get to it.

“At this point,” I begin, “we have more questions than answers.”

I glance around the table.Receive several nods, a look of genuine small-child curiosity.

“There’s only one person who can tell us what’s truly going on.”

More nods.

“I say we stop searching.Instead, we use what we know to get that person to come to us.”

I don’t directly address Sabera by name, given Zahra’s presence, but the adults know who I’m talking about.

“Let’s build a code, working off what we saw in the townhouse, and post it in the window of your deli, Aliah.A time and place to meet.See what happens next.”

More interested expressions.

Zahra, who appears to be following the conversation perfectly despite my best attempts, provides a single, emphatic nod.

I’D TAKEN PHOTOSof Sabera’s frantic scribbles covering the walls of her hideout in order to analyze them later for evidence of other riddles, clues, perhaps a nice simple statement: find me here.No such luck.

Now, I print out a few for samples, while Genni produces half an art studio from seemingly thin air.There are glitter pens, collections of neon-bright markers with crazy fruit scents, and sheet after sheet of stickers, not to mention construction paper in about every shade imaginable.

“What?”she asks as Daryl and I stare in amazement.“I got friends with kids.And let me tell you, I’mdefinitelythe cool aunt.”

I sort through the mad colored mess, feeling a little guilty when I settle upon a plain white poster board and a single black Sharpie.

Good news, Zahra quickly claims the rest.She and Genni start competing for who can draw the prettiest flower while Daryl, Aliah, and I scratch out various attempts at encoding a simple message.