Controlling Interest (23 page)

“Matt, are you sure you don't want a fry? They're really good.”

Matt looked up from Yasmine's notebook.

Natalie sat outside his holding cell off the sheriff's office on a folding chair, cheerful as a cricket. She'd talked Bradley the Badly into bringing her a basket of chicken fingers and fries from the local gas station, which she proceeded to drown in ketchup and poke through the bars despite Matt's assuring her his appetite had been left in Memphis.

“No thanks,” he said absently. Trying to be productive, he'd spent the time waiting on Eddie to arrange bail flipping through the notebook. The last entry was the only one in English.

And it was a barn-burner.

“Listen to this:

The long flight from Pakistan has given me time to think.
I have been reading the little Bible Zach gave me. I write in English because it makes me feel close to him. I have prayed, asking the Father why he allowed this to happen to me. I have read again the verses in Matthew 10 that Zach showed me: “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves a son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” Those are the verses Zach and I read together when I first became a Christian. I was afraid then, because I knew what Ammi and Abbi would say. But then he wrote the letter telling me to do my duty, and suddenly I am so confused.
I know now what Jarrar Haq is. How could Zach urge me to marry this man? What does it mean? What action shall I take? How shall I lose my life?

Natalie swallowed the french fry Matt had refused, then wiped her mouth on a paper napkin. “Sounds like she was doing some heavy thinking. What does she mean about Haq? And who's this Zach person?”

“Someone she knew in Islamabad. A strong enough believer to give her a Bible.” Matt leafed through the notebook. “There's nothing else here in English. If she became a Christian she probably had to be very careful of what she wrote down.”

Natalie closed the Styrofoam container and stared at Matt. “This changes everything.” Glancing over her shoulder at Felschow, who was sitting at his computer playing FreeCell, she lowered her voice. “Now we're not tracking down some random runaway bride. Yasmine's a sister in the Lord. And she may have a legitimate reason for not wanting to be found.”

Matt stood up and covered the short distance to the cell door in one step. “We don't know that. Her family hired us to find her, and they obviously have her best interests at heart. We're not talking abuse here. She agreed to the marriage with Haq.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like she found out something about him that makes him scary. She uses the word ‘duty.' What if she's being coerced?”

“I don't know, Natalie. We don't know anything about this girl except what's in this notebook and what her family told us. Besides, all we have to do is locate her and let her know her family's worried about her. And make sure she's safe, of course.” Matt grabbed the bars of the cell door. “We've got to find her. When's your dad coming?”

“As soon as he posts bail.” Natalie pressed against the bars. She'd taken off her glasses to rub her eyes, leaving black smears. Little worry wrinkles pinched her brows together. “Matt . . . I'm really sorry. If I hadn't antagonized Bradley, he probably would have let us go.”

“It's not your fault the guy's a world-class sore loser.” Matt leaned his head close. “But as far as unpleasant surprises go, I think we're even.”

“Where are you?” Jarrar lit a cigarette, then tucked his lighter into his trousers pocket. He leaned over the balcony to watch the lights of downtown traffic pass. It was nearly midnight, but sleep was far away. His life had gone completely out of control with the arrival of Yasmine Patel. At the moment he quite hated her. He was looking forward to beating her.

It was a long moment before Feroz answered. “I am not sure. I am sitting outside a sheriff's office. The sign says ‘Too-
nee
-kah County.' ”

“I thought they were going to Helena, Arkansas. What happened?”

“I am not sure what law they broke, but they were stopped by a patrol car. The officer got out to talk to them; they got out, too, and then the woman drove her car into town while the man followed in the patrol car with the officer.”

“Do you mean to tell me they are in jail?” What kind of idiots had his father-in-law hired?

“It is very strange,” Feroz admitted. “I could not get too close, or they would have seen me. You said to keep a low profile.”

“Yes, I want them to do the work, but stay close enough to keep tabs on them. You must get to Yasmine before they do. If she talks . . .” Jarrar did not have to remind Feroz of the stakes. Feroz was a brother in their enterprise. Less valuable than Jarrar himself, to be sure, but he knew more than most.

“Jarrar, what if she slips away before we get to her? How can I stay with the detectives and look for her at the same time?”

“Clearly they know something we don't.” Jarrar drew on his cigarette, letting the nicotine calm him. “Stay with them for now and call me in the morning with an update.”

“I was not prepared to sleep in the car,” Feroz grumbled.

“Sacrifices must be made,” Jarrar said coldly. “You knew that at the beginning.”

“Yes. I did.” Feroz rang off.

Jarrar ground out his cigarette on the balcony rail. He opened the sliding glass door to the apartment and entered the blessed air conditioning. He did not care if Feroz was angry, and he certainly didn't care if he was uncomfortable. Each had his own part to play. Jarrar's part was planning — Feroz's was execution.

It was the way of things, and it was good. Allah be praised.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

A
round ten o'clock on Monday morning, Natalie sat in front of Bradley's desk, digging in her purse for a pen. She handed it to Matt as he took the release form from Bradley. His day's growth of beard made him look like he'd been locked up for drunk-and-disorderly. She smiled. “Cheer up. This is your ‘Get Out of Jail Free' card.”

Matt glowered at the Tunica County Sheriff's Department logo on the pen. “I doubt your dad would think it's free.”

Last night Matt had loudly protested the five-hundred-dollar bail, but Natalie just shrugged and called Daddy. Fortunately, her father hadn't blinked an eye at the amount. “Pocket change, kiddo. Just find that girl. Oh, and get the taillight fixed.”

Which of course she promised to do. She always had good intentions.

Looking rested and quite pleased with himself — he'd gone home, leaving a junior deputy to watch the two hardened criminals — Bradley sat back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “How about if I escort you folks out to the bridge? Wouldn't want you to get caught in that speed trap in Evansville.”

“We'll manage.” Matt signed the release with an angry scribble. “Come on, Trouble, let's blow this pop stand. We've got a boat to catch.”

“You folks have a nice day.” Bradley gave Natalie a flippant salute and took a slurp of the nasty black coffee for which the department was famous.

With admirable restraint Matt tossed the pen on the desk and stalked out the door.

Natalie followed, jingling the keys. “You want to drive?”

He stopped and glanced at her, a spark returning to his bloodshot eyes. “You serious?” By now he knew the Miata was Natalie's pride and joy.

“Unless you need a nap.” She'd curled up on the lumpy couch in the employee break room and conked out immediately, leaving Matt to spend the night on the bunk in his cell.

“I'm wired for sound. Give me those keys.”

Natalie settled down, watching Matt handle her car with confidence and skill. He was still tight-lipped, but at least he wasn't taking the whole fiasco out on her. In fact, he'd made the confrontation with Bradley almost fun, in spite of the circumstances. Matt wasn't really her boyfriend, but Bradley seemed to assume he was.

She sighed happily. It was going to be a good day.

Natalie took out Yasmine's journal and became engrossed in trying to decode the part of it written in whatever language the Pakistanis spoke. Urdu or Hindu or something. They'd passed the Evansville stoplight and waved at the nice police officer sitting in the gas station parking lot, when Matt snapped off the gardening call-in show blaring on the radio.

She glanced at him in surprise.

He was scowling as if planting fan leaf palms in north Mississippi was a capital offense. “Why'd you ever go out with that clown?”

“Huh?”

“You're obviously way out of his league. What were you thinking?” He drove with a wrist propped on top of the steering wheel, the seat as far back as it would go — he had really long legs. But the tension in his jaw belied his relaxed posture.

She shrugged. “I told you. I was looking for a Christian boyfriend, and I met him at church. Guess I was a little naïve. People in church aren't perfect.”

“You
are
too trusting, Natalie. You should even be careful with me.” He gave her an inscrutable glance, then quickly looked back at the road. “What I mean is, it's okay to make a mistake once. But you shouldn't go out with a guy who treats you like that over and over.”

Natalie blinked. He sounded almost protective. “You want me to be honest? I thought I wasn't going to find anybody better. You should see some of the guys I dated before him.”

He frowned. “Why? Why do girls do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe I never knew a man could be different. Even my dad had problems with fidelity. I think he genuinely loves my mother, and he's sorry he messed up so bad she booted him out. But he never had a true conviction that disrespecting her was wrong — at least until recently. Maybe.” She pictured the way her father had looked at her mother yesterday. Tenderness and regret and maybe a certain amount of shame, all mixed in. “Anyway, he sure wasn't a good example when I was growing up.” She sighed. “Matt, every woman wants to be loved exclusively. They'll put up with a lot of stuff if they think that's what they're getting.”

He was silent for a long time. They passed a kudzu-infested stretch of road, a cement factory, and a soybean field. “Well, don't put up with it anymore,” he finally said. “You're a valuable prize. There'll be somebody who deserves you one of these days.”

Natalie's eyes watered. She cleared her throat. “That's a nice thing to say.”

“It's the truth.” He glanced at her. “You're a motor mouth and you drive too fast, but you've got a good heart.”

At the backhanded compliment, she let out a huff of laughter. “You being the expert on romance. Why'd you take up with that girl from the café?”

His shoulders shifted. “She kind of . . . came to the office and asked me out.”

He sounded so sheepish, Natalie laughed. “Isn't the word ‘no' in your vocabulary?”

“I tried. I didn't want to hurt her feelings.” He glanced at her. “Plus I . . . haven't had a date in a long time. I thought it would be fun and wouldn't hurt anything, yada yada.” His cheekbones reddened. “Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I haven't lost my touch.”

“Lost your touch?” Natalie gaped at him. “Are you crazy?”

“It's a guy thing. You wouldn't understand.”

“So this is a conquest issue? How Neanderthal is that!”

“Maybe so, but I'm being as honest as you were. Competition's hardwired into most men.”

“Women are not game pieces!”

“I know that!” Matt rattled his hand against the steering wheel. “I'm trying to explain how it happens. Probably happened with your dad too — you said he's not a Christian. Without the influence of the Bible, when your mind's conditioned to what's on TV and movies and stuff, women start looking like trophies.” He glanced at her and grimaced. “Don't look so disgusted. I know it's not right, but it's reality. I struggle with it too. I'm hoping it'll get easier as I get closer to God.”