Page 111 of Rescuing You

“Can you tell me more about that?”

“Hasan is a madman. Waleed is his…I do not know how to say in English. He is…not a puppet. More like…imitator? He tries to be like Hasan.”

“In what way?”

“He does whatever Hasan says. I think, if Hasan tell him to go two miles, he would go four. You see?”

“Like he’s trying to impress him?”

“Maybe impress. Maybe outdo.” She shrugged. “I do not wish to get into the minds of evil men.”

“But you know a lot about them.”

“Only what I saw.”

He grabbed an eyebrow pencil. “Close your eyes.” When she did, he asked, “Did they come to the compound often?”

“It is their…base. Where they make their plans.”

“It’s a family home?”

“Not our family.” She leaned away, covering her mouth with her hand.

He knew that look. He backed up, and she rushed to the bathroom and vomited.

She was wasting away, and no matter how much he fed her, it wasn’t getting better. He couldn’t figure out how she could still walk, considering the lack of nutrients.

“There’s some mouthwash in my dopp kit,” he called.

A moment later, she returned and sat across from him. “Sorry. Thank you.”

Her breath, spicy before, was minty now.

“Do you know why you’re sick?”

“It is nothing.” She didn’t hold his eye contact. And by her tone, her evasiveness, he knew she was lying.

He thought about pressing the issue, but it wasn’t as if he could cure her.

“You need some more lemon juice?”

“If it’s no trouble.”

He made a mental note to stop on their way out of town. “My father’s a medical doctor.” He worked on her eyebrows with a pencil, making them look darker, bushier. “When we get to the States, you can tell him what’s going on, and he’ll be able to help. He’ll keep your confidence. Your secrets,” he added, in case she didn’t know what he meant.

She didn’t react at all.

“Why were you there, at that compound?”

“I did not have a choice.” Defensiveness tinged her response.

“I understand that.” He changed tack, coming at the question from a different direction. “According to my research, the place is owned by Iyad Assad, your friend Heba’s father⁠—”

“Yes, yes. But Khalid is Heba’s uncle, the brother of Heba’s mother. They are family. The compound is where they stay and plan.”

“Headquarters?” he suggested.

She mouthed the word silently, nodding.