by Alice Ward
“It’s complicated,” Phil explained.
Blaire nodded. “Getting involved in something like that can go sour real fast. When you’re forces in a foreign country, there’s already a tense relationship established. We’re not there to meddle. It can look like you’re trying to impose your way of living.”
“But if someone is being abused the right thing to do is to try and stop it,” I argued.
“I know,” Blaire emphatically nodded. “But there are worse things happening than a woman getting beat up, trust me… and stepping in can escalate a simple beating to those worse things…”
I shuddered, not wanting to know what those “worse things” were.
“About Emmy,” I said, the name feeling strange on my tongue. Seth’s sister’s name… I still couldn’t get over the shock of her existence.
“She did something anyway,” Blaire said tightly. “That was Emmy. You could wave the big picture in front of her all you wanted, but she built her life around helping people. She was the reason she and Seth enlisted.”
“It wasn’t just for money?” I breathlessly asked.
“No,” Blaire said. “They didn’t have their inheritance yet, but I don’t think that had anything to do with joining the army. Not for Emmy anyway. Seth… I think he went to be with her. They were less than two years apart. Everyone always thought they were twins. They looked so alike and had all the same gestures and ways of speaking. I guess you could say they were twins in a way, just twins that happened to be born in different years. They could read each other like no one else. He was always looking out for her. She could be… impulsive. Maybe because of how big her heart was. He was the rational thinker. He would hold her back when her emotions were taking her to an out of control place.”
“So what happened?” Phil pressed.
Blaire looked down at the table and bit her lip. “Emmy went to take care of things herself. She went to the house of the abused woman. As far as I know, they just talked. Emmy was trying to find a way around things, trying to figure out if there was somewhere the woman could go, someone else she could stay with.”
“There wasn’t, was there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Blaire looked at me. “There? No. Probably not. Especially if her family wasn’t in the same town. Then she was definitely on her own.”
“And what about Seth? Did he know all of this?”
“He tried to stop her from getting involved. He tried to talk her out of it. They had a big fight. I saw it happen. Emmy went anyway. Then… on her way back to Black Horse… she was killed.”
The last word wrapped around me, pressing against my lungs and making it hard to breathe. “Killed? By who?”
“We think by the family of the woman, but we can’t know for sure.” Blaire’s face took on a stony quality, but it was a facade. She was trying to be strong yet, deep behind her eyes the pain was visible.
The weight of the story pressed down on me. Emmy… Blaire… The abused woman… Seth. I felt so bad for all of them.
“Oh my God,” I sighed to myself.
“I’m not surprised Seth hasn’t told either one of you this,” Blaire said. “It’s always been a secret. You need to know… I don’t think he kept it from you because he didn’t want you to know him, or because he doesn’t care for you.” She looked directly at me. “Some things are just so painful that you can’t share them, and you know that if you even tried to you would do more harm than good.”
I fought back the tears. If even one fell then dozens more would follow, and I didn’t know when I would be able to stop crying. I didn’t have time for that.
I leaned closer to Blaire, pressing my forearms onto the table. “So this has something to do with where Seth went? Is that what you think?”
“I can’t imagine it being anything else. His life since then has been… normal. Mexico. Chicago. Nothing else has happened. He’s just been trying to get over it all.”
“This is what his dad was talking about.”
“I think so, yes.”
Phil spoke up. “He wouldn’t. No… he wouldn’t do it…”
I whipped my head toward him. “He wouldn’t do what?”
“If he’s gone somewhere then it’s back to Afghanistan…”
“Right,” Blaire agreed.
“And it’s for one purpose.”
I stared at Phil, waiting in dread. The gears in my head ground away but produced nothing. “What are you talking about?”
Phil grew pale. “It’s to get revenge.”
“Exactly,” Blaire intoned coldly.
“Re…” I stammered on the word.
“But why now?” Phil asked.
I nodded feverishly. “Yeah, it’s been a long time. So why now? Maybe he didn’t go to Afghanistan. Maybe he’s somewhere else.”
Blaire’s mouth twisted in doubt. “Where?”
My heart sank. The photo Seth emailed me. Perhaps it hadn’t been from years ago or one pulled off the internet. Maybe he had taken it and sent it to me in real time.
Blaire peered at me. “Has anything else happened recently? Have either one of you seen him acting weird, or talking about anything strange?”
I slapped the table with my palm. “His dad. He had a couple of meetings with his dad. And he wouldn’t tell me what they talked about, but the second time, the night before he told me he’d been deployed, he came to my house drunk. He was really messed up. He said something…” I tried to remember Seth’s exact words. “I think he said something about his dad blaming him, and about how he didn’t care.”
Blaire blinked rapidly. “That’s… awful.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t seem like they have the best relationship. I always thought it was because of Seth’s granddad and the falling out with his dad.”
“But maybe that’s not just it,” Blaire finished.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s definitely not.”
Something occurred to me. “So much happened in Seth’s life all at once, or nearly. You said Emmy died four years ago?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And then his grandfather died… I can’t remember. What? A couple years ago? Right around the time his parents got divorced. And he told me he was always close with his grandfather. Closer than he was with his dad.”
Phil grunted. “That’s a lot of loss to deal with at once.”
Blaire’s eyebrows pushed together as she mulled it over.
I put up my hand. “Wait. I wasn’t suggesting that Seth has snapped.”
“No,” Blaire said. “I don’t think he’s gone crazy. But I do think that if he’s in Afghanistan, it has something to do with his dad.”
Phil leaned closer toward us. “What are you guys talking about? You’re saying Seth’s dad blames him?”
“Maybe,” answered Blaire. “And maybe, if Seth’s back in Afghanistan, that’s why he picked now to go.”
My gut twisted. “His dad might have said something to him. It hurt Seth, he went out and got drunk, then made a plan to hunt down Emmy’s killers. But of course, he couldn’t tell me that, so he lied.”
Phil wagged his finger. “And probably thought he could sell you the lie since you’re not in the army and don’t know the processes involved with getting deployed.”
I pursed my lips, feeling like an idiot.
Blaire sighed and pressed her hands against her temples. “One week… one more week and we would have been out of there.”
I gulped. “You mean Emmy was killed a week before you were to come home?”
“Yes,” she said dryly.
“How could Seth’s dad blame him?” Phil demanded. “He tried to stop her from going, didn’t he?”
I could answer that one. “Maybe he thinks Seth didn’t try hard enough.”
A thick silence settled over us.
“The asshole,” I spat.
“He lost his daughter,” Blaire said.
“Yeah and now he’s pushed his son away.”
&
nbsp; And maybe lost him as well.
I stood up so quickly my chair fell over. Blaire and Phil both looked at me with wide eyes.
“I’m going to find him,” I explained.
Blaire’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean you’re going to find him? Quinn, we don’t know where he is! He could be…”
“But we have an idea, and that’s enough. I don’t know about you, but I can’t just sit around here and wonder what happened to him.” My words shook, and my lips trembled. I pressed them together to stop their shaking.
Blaire looked up at me, sadness in her eyes. “So what? Are you going to fly to the Middle East and hunt for him? You don’t even know where to start.”
“But you do. Do you have the name of the woman Emmy was trying to help?”
“No. I’m sorry, but I don’t. I don’t know if I ever knew her name.”
“But the name of your camp. It was called Black Horse, right?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“So I could start there. And do you know the name of the village the woman lived in?”
Blaire’s mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
“Please, Blaire. Please”
“Tejen,” she replied. “It was called Tejen.”
“I’m going,” I declared, knowing without a doubt that I would do exactly that.
She stood up, imploring me with her eyes. “And do what? Walk into a military camp and start asking questions about something that happened years ago? Or a village where you don’t even know the language?”
“I can get a translator.”
Her jaw clamped shut. After a moment she reluctantly said, “Okay.”
I stared at her in surprise. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “What do you need from me?”
“Anything you can remember.”
“That’s all I remember. I told you everything. I’ll let you know if anything else comes to me, but I’m almost sure that’s it. Except… I want to go with you.”
“No,” I said, a fierceness in my voice. “I’m not going to put Seth’s friends at risk. Plus, you need to show up to your wedding day. There’s no point in all of us going.”
“This will be more dangerous than you think, Quinn.”
“I can accept that.”
“You might… you might be putting your life on the line.”
I swallowed hard. I knew what she was thinking. I’d only known Seth a short time. Why would I risk so much on someone I’d only just started calling a boyfriend? Mothers loved their babies way before they are born. Was it so hard to believe that a woman could risk herself for a man before their relationship was mature? I didn’t just love Seth right now. I loved the Seth I knew I would marry someday. The Seth who would father my children. The Seth who would walk our daughter down the aisle. The Seth I would grow old with. Love our grandchildren with. I might not know him very well, but I was in this for the long haul.
I finally nodded at her. “I can accept that as well if it means I have a chance of finding Seth.”
Blaire’s face grew tight, but she kept quiet.
Phil stood to join us. “When are you going?”
“Tonight, if I can.”
He frowned. “I don’t know if you can book a ticket this late.”
I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not booking a ticket. I’m going to rent a jet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Fourteen hours and twenty-seven minutes.
The estimated direct flight time from Chicago, Illinois to Kabul, Afghanistan.
The jet I booked would be ready by eight p.m. Chicago time. After dropping Starlet at London’s apartment, kissing the dog goodbye and trying not to cry, I took a taxi to the airport. On the way, I wrote an email to my staff informing them I was sick and would be taking a few days off.
London had tried to stop me, she thought I was crazy to go. But I told her the same thing I told Blaire. If there was even the smallest chance of bringing Seth home in one piece, I had to take it.
Flying on a private jet meant no waiting in lines. My car took me right onto the tarmac, right up to the boarding stairs. It had all happened so fast; it was surreal when I stepped out onto the concrete and retrieved my two carry-on bags.
Leave Chicago, get to Kabul.
The travel agency had set me up with a translator last minute. Thank God they could come through, or this may not have been possible. My translator and unofficial guide, Aarif Bashir, would meet me at the airport at eight p.m., Kabul time. Flying into the country meant slicing through about nine hours.
One more day gone by.
One more day without knowing where Seth was or what had happened to him.
I tried to tell myself I was traveling back in time, buying myself more hours. The lie kept me sane, helped distract me from all the wild thoughts flinging around in my head. I stared out the plane’s window, watching the lights of Chicago disappear.
I missed Starlet already, craved having her next to me… wondered if I’d ever see her again.
Or Seth, for that matter.
Or anyone.
Suppose I never got to hold Heather’s baby? Or I never saw my parents again? Never told my sister I was the one who framed her for taking money out of dad’s wallet in junior high? I’d let her take the heat for that, and I’d never revealed the truth to her, never apologized.
All the things I always wanted to do suddenly came tumbling through my head and seemed more important than ever. Because, truth be told, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. And I was scared. I’d never been so far from home before. My vacations to Italy and Ireland seemed laughable. I would be in a totally foreign country, surrounded by languages and a culture I didn’t understand. On top of all that, I would be a young woman traveling close to alone in a Muslim country. I hoped and prayed my translator was someone I could trust. If he screwed me over in any way, I would be done for.
My loose plan was to go to the village near the camp and ask around. Going to the U.S. and Canadian military outpost would be a waste of time. I’d probably get detained or something just for poking my nose around a military camp. It seemed much more likely that civilians would find it in their hearts to help me. At least I hoped they would.
Then once I found Seth I would beg him to come home. I would beg him to not go through with his plan for revenge, assuming he hadn’t already. Assuming something bad hadn’t happened to him. I forced my mind away from the emails, and the fact that there had been no more. I refused to consider the worst. There had to be another answer.
There just had to be.
I wasn’t going to rest until I found it.
The jet contained a bed, a small thing with curtains to pull around it. I nestled down into it but kept the curtains open so I could see out the windows. Without windows, I would be sequestered off far away from the world, far away from Seth.
I didn’t think I would fall asleep, but daylight woke me. I struggled to sit up, feeling groggy and all around not right. Rummaging through my bag, I found a long sleeve cotton shirt and a pair of jeans and pulled them on.
The jet was over land, the light in the sky rapidly disappearing. It seemed I’d hardly seen any daylight.
When we came in to land, my breathing came faster and faster. What was I doing? It seemed so crazy, getting on a jet and flying to the other side of the world on the mere hope that I would find Seth there.
And yet sitting around doing nothing seemed even crazier.
We landed smoothly on a small runway, the jet parking near the end. I pulled out the scarf I’d brought, wrapped it around my head then grabbed my bags. My aim was to try to blend in without looking like I was trying too hard. I would be going to neighborhoods and asking questions; that alone was extremely suspicious. I needed to look average enough to divert people’s attention.
I prayed it would work.
The door to the cockpit opened, the co-pilot coming out to open the exit door for me. He gazed at me with a stran
ge look on his face, perhaps wondering what a woman from Chicago was doing in Kabul all by herself. He said nothing, though, and I took my bags and went down the stairs.
The heat was like a physical assault hitting me everywhere at once. I was sweating before I made my way through customs, then to the front of the building. I knew absolutely no Pashto or Dari, the two official and most common languages in the country. I couldn’t even read the signs. But I could find my way to the front of the airport. Maybe there would be some translation books for sale there if my translator didn’t show.
At the entrance to the airport, I waited by a scramble of cars. I’d given the travel agency a description of what I would wear so Aarif Bashir could find me. If he didn’t show up what would I do?
Going home wasn’t an option.
I would find someone who spoke English and ask them to direct me to the nearest place where I could hire a guide and translator. I would keep searching until I got what I came for, and I wouldn’t leave till the whole mystery was solved.
I was a Type-A, I reminded myself. A control freak. A “get it done” kind of girl.
“Miss Quinn Laurent?” a man said in an accent so thick it took me a second to recognize my own name.
I whipped around to take in a thin, tall man. His black beard brushed against his long white shirt as he nodded his head to me. “I am Aarif Bashir.”
I nearly collapsed with relief. “Yes! Thank you! It’s so good to see you.”
I reached my hand out halfway to shake his hand, but then realized that might not be acceptable and yanked it back. I hadn’t had time to research social customs and norms in Afghanistan. I had no idea if a woman touching a man she wasn’t related to — especially in a public setting — would be all right.
“Come this way if you do please,” he said, gesturing toward a blue car parked nearby.
He took my bags and put them in the backseat, and I climbed in after them. Aarif got into the front, started the engine and swerved into traffic.
“I am yours for the next three days,” he said as he drove.
“Great!”
“I can take you to see all the sites people like to.”
I sat up straighter, holding onto the bar as he hit the gas, taking us away from the airport traffic. “There’s one thing I want to do. Do you know the camp Black Horse? I need to go to a place kind of near there.”
