Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Knew the Truth
Khalida did not speak for nearly ten minutes.
She simply stared at the screen.
MARIAM DARZI.
Her mother.
The woman who packed her lunches.
The woman who slept beside her after nightmares.
The woman who cried every anniversary of Faris’s death.
“No.”
Sarah said the word first.
Deacon remained silent.
Khalida turned toward him.
“Say something.”
“I don’t know enough.”
“My father named my mother.”
“Yes.”
“That means what?”
“It means we ask her.”
Sarah shook her head.
“Mom lives in Michigan.”
Deacon checked his phone.
“Not anymore.”
Both sisters looked at him.
“What?”
“She flew into the city yesterday.”
Khalida stood too quickly.
Pain ripped through her ribs.
Deacon caught her elbow.
She pulled away.
“Don’t.”
He immediately released her.
“My mother came here and didn’t call either of us?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“A hotel near the airport.”
Sarah looked terrified.
“Why?”
Deacon answered, “That’s what worries me.”
Mariam Darzi opened her hotel room door at 2:16 the next morning.
She was sixty-one.
Silver threaded through dark hair Khalida remembered as black.
She wore a robe.
When she saw Deacon, her face drained of color.
Then she saw her daughters.
“Khalida?”
The reunion should have involved tears and embraces.
Instead Khalida held up the brass queen.
Mariam stopped moving.
Sarah saw it.
“You recognize this.”
Their mother closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Everything inside Khalida broke.
“You lied to us.”
Mariam whispered, “Come inside.”
“No.”
“Khalida—”
“Was Dad alive?”
Mariam looked down the corridor.
“Please.”
They entered.
Deacon remained near the door.
Mariam sat on the bed.
Her hands trembled.
“He survived the crash.”
Sarah started crying.
“You let us bury him.”
“We buried an empty coffin.”
“I was ten!”
“I know.”
“You told us he was dead.”
“He asked me to.”
Khalida’s voice turned hard.
“Why?”
Mariam looked at her.
“Because men were coming for him.”
“What men?”
“People far above Greg.”
Mariam looked at Deacon.
“His father knew.”
Deacon’s eyes narrowed.
“My father believed Faris died.”
“At first.”
“Meaning?”
“Later, he helped him disappear.”
The room went silent.
Khalida paced carefully.
“So Dad abandoned us.”
“No.”
“Then what word would you use?”
“He protected you.”
“By disappearing?”
“By becoming useless to the people trying to find the ledger.”
Khalida held up the queen.
“Apparently that failed.”
Mariam covered her face.
“I prayed it would never reach you.”
“Why did Dad name you in the file?”
Her mother went still.
Khalida repeated the question.
“Why did he say you were connected to Greg?”
Mariam slowly lowered her hands.
“Because I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Three years ago someone contacted me.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t know his real name.”
“What did he want?”
“Faris.”
“You told him Dad was alive?”
“I thought Faris had died years earlier.”
Mariam looked toward the floor.
“After he disappeared, he contacted me occasionally. Then thirteen years ago the messages stopped.”
Khalida calculated.
That matched the date on the video almost exactly.
“I assumed they finally found him.”
Mariam continued.
“The man who contacted me knew details only Faris could have known.”
“He convinced you he was Dad?”
“No. He convinced me he had known him.”
“What did you tell him?”
Mariam started crying.
“That you lived here.”
Khalida’s stomach turned.
“You gave him my address?”
“Not exactly.”
“Mom.”
“I gave him enough.”
Sarah whispered, “That’s how Greg found her.”
Mariam nodded.
“I realized later.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I was ashamed.”
Khalida laughed bitterly.
“You were ashamed, so you let me live with the man?”
“I didn’t know Greg was the man until yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
Mariam reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Greg leaving Khalida’s building.
Behind him stood an older man.
Gray coat.
Silver hair.
Deacon stared.
“Victor Soren.”
Khalida looked at him.
“Who?”
“My father’s former attorney.”
Mariam said quietly, “He’s the one who contacted me.”
Deacon’s expression turned lethal.
“I thought he was dead.”
“So did Faris.”
“Apparently everyone in this story has difficulty staying dead,” Khalida muttered.
Mariam almost smiled through tears.
Then Deacon’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
“Everyone move.”
Khalida’s heart jumped.
“What?”
“Fire alarm.”
A second later the hotel sirens began.
Guests entered the hall.
Smoke was not visible.
Deacon’s men appeared.
“Sir, stairwell camera just went down.”
Deacon looked toward Mariam.
“This isn’t a fire.”
He moved them toward a service corridor.
They reached the parking structure safely.
A black SUV waited.
Mariam climbed in.
Sarah followed.
Khalida paused.
“Deacon.”
He looked back.
“Victor knows we found the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“So what happens now?”
“He’ll try to take it.”
“From you?”
Deacon’s expression hardened.
“From you.”
The realization settled over her.
All her life she had been unknowingly carrying a key.
Now everyone knew.
They drove toward Deacon’s secure property outside the city.
Halfway there, Mariam spoke.
“There’s something else.”
Khalida looked at her.
“Of course there is.”
“Your father contacted me last year.”
The car became silent.
Sarah whispered, “What?”
Mariam’s eyes filled.
“He sent only one message.”
She removed an old phone from her bag.
Khalida opened the archived text.
THE QUEEN MUST NEVER TRUST THE KING.
Khalida frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Mariam looked at Deacon.
“I always thought it meant Victor.”
Deacon’s face changed.
“Why?”
“Because Faris called Victor the King.”
Deacon shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“My father called someone else that.”
Khalida stared.
“Who?”
Deacon did not answer.
His phone rang.
He looked at the caller ID.
Unknown.
He answered.
A distorted male voice spoke.
“You finally found her.”
Deacon’s eyes turned cold.
“Victor.”
A laugh.
“You’re still predictable.”
“What do you want?”
“The ledger.”
“You won’t get it.”
“No?”
A pause.
Then the caller said something that made Deacon’s face lose all color.
Khalida watched him.
“What?”
The call ended.
Deacon looked at her.
“Victor says your father is alive.”
Khalida stopped breathing.
“And he says if we want to see him again…”
Deacon clenched the phone.
May you like
“…we bring the ledger alone.”
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