What We Bury, page 20
part #4 of Call of the Crow Quartet Series
Andi looked down, breathing hard again, only to find that Cyrus’s hand was very close to her knee, an open invitation. I’m here for you. She took it, squeezing gratefully.
“You all right, Peanut?” her dad asked from her other side. She leaned her head against his shoulder instead of responding. No, she wasn’t all right. She was terrified that someone was going to burst through the doors any second, maybe even the man from the photograph, his blond hair blazing, letting out a storm of gunfire, was that what this was all leading up to, her whole life pushing her to this one miserable moment….
Stop. That didn’t make sense. If someone was shooting up the courthouse, they would have heard gunshots, right? And everyone had to go through security, had to walk through a metal detector, there was no way they’d be getting a gun through there. The only people with guns on this side were the police, so there was nothing to be afraid of… right?
People were milling about now, pacing, anxious. Cyrus nudged her in the elbow. “If someone had heard shots, they’d be on it right away. This place is crawling with cops. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”
Andi appreciated that his thoughts echoed her own, but still, nothing would be okay until she knew what was going on.
There was something very claustrophobic about being stuck in a room with a bunch of anxious people, everyone desperate for their phones. She couldn’t help sneaking glances at Naveed, who had curled into himself, head in his hands. Sam went over to talk to him and made the mistake of touching his shoulder. Andi watched him recoil, heard his cold, angry words cutting through the chatter, traveling straight to her ears: “Don’t touch me. Leave me alone.”
Sam came back looking like he, too, was about to lose it. Andi’s dad took Sam aside to a corner of the courtroom, where they huddled together talking quietly.
“Should I go over to Naveed?” Cyrus asked her.
“Seems like he wants space,” Andi said. “Don’t want him to freak out in front of all these people.”
“Agreed,” Cyrus said.
Twenty long minutes passed before the bailiff came back out. When he did, everyone stopped talking. He asked for their attention, even though that was unnecessary: he already had it.
“There’s no immediate danger, and we’ll return your phones shortly, but the lockdown hasn’t been lifted yet. Please be patient. I’ll let you know when we have more information.” The announcement was met with groans, but the bailiff seemed oblivious to them. Instead of leaving, though, he headed down the aisle, straight towards Andi.
“Sam, Jake, Andi, Cyrus. Please follow me. He should come too,” the bailiff said, gesturing toward Naveed. Stunned, they all stood up. Sam got Naveed, and they followed the bailiff silently into the judge’s quarters.
The room was small, but they crowded inside. Andi held onto Cyrus’s arm for support, since she felt like she was about to faint.
Once the door was shut, the bailiff said, “Okay. I just spoke with an officer. No one can leave this courthouse until a full search has been conducted, because… Tara Snyder is missing.”
Wait. But. How? How could Tara be missing? Andi barely had time to let this sink in before Naveed slid to the floor, holding his chest. His breath was labored, eyes frantic. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Sam rushed over and crouched beside him. “Do you have your inhaler?” he asked. Naveed shook his head.
The judge looked concerned. “Should I call a medic?”
“No!” Naveed said hoarsely. “No medic. It’s just. Panic.”
“He gets panic attacks sometimes,” Cyrus explained. “He’ll be all right in a few minutes, once it passes. Just give him some space.”
The bailiff got a call on his radio. “I need to go let the police in,” he said. “I’ll send one of the officers back. They want to talk to you.”
Sam was speaking softly to Naveed in Persian. Andi tried not to look at them, but she could smell Naveed’s sweat, she couldn’t stop hearing that awful gasping sound he kept making, and her headache was roaring back with a vengeance, ripping into her, and she was about to lose herself into the current of fear that was trying to sweep her under, when she suddenly wondered if she could work something like this into her composition, to give that same staccato, gasping, breathless quality. Some sort of woodwind instrument, maybe.
What a weird thing to think at a time like this. She pushed it out of her mind, because she should be afraid. Tara Snyder was missing. Which meant she must have escaped. And if they didn’t find her….
A police officer entered then, a woman with a thick black braid reaching down her back. Once the door behind them was closed and the officer had been reassured that Naveed didn’t need a medic, Sam asked her what was going on.
The officer looked at him, then at the judge. “One of Tara Snyder’s guards abandoned his post outside the room where she was being held when he heard a disturbance in a nearby hallway. Turned out to be nothing—well, it was something, a wireless speaker broadcasting what sounded like two people having a loud argument. He called for another officer to investigate and returned to his post. But when the other guards didn’t come out at the end of the lunch hour as expected, he went in to find her gone and both of them unconscious.”
“Are the guards all right?” the judge asked. Andi wasn’t even thinking about them, though. She was thinking about the terrifying implications of this.
“They were taken to Harborview. I don’t know their condition,” the police officer said. “But, obviously, our main focus is finding her now.” She turned to Sam. “Given your… history with her, I’d like to speak with you all about a few things. Can you follow me up to my office?”
Sam hesitated. “I think my son needs a few more minutes. Can we talk here?”
The judge sighed. “Go ahead. I better address everyone, since we’ll need to recess for the day. Probably going to end up as a mistrial.”
She left, and the officer said, “We’re concerned for your safety. There’s a possibility that Snyder escaped because she’s considering retaliation. We’ll give you a police escort home, but all of you should consider staying somewhere else for a while.”
“Yes. Okay. Sure,” Sam said.
“Maybe we could stay with Khaleh Yasmin,” Cyrus suggested.
“Too obvious,” Sam said. “I don’t want to put her in any danger. We’ll figure something else out.”
All eyes then turned to Naveed, who was breathing more normally now. “You should come with us,” Sam said.
Naveed shook his head. “No. I’m going back to the farm. She won’t find me there.”
“Maybe not, but I would feel a lot better if you were with us,” Sam said. “I need to know that you’re safe.”
“Baba.” Naveed said firmly. “I promise I’ll be careful. But I need to be there right now. Working on the farm… keeping busy there… it’s the only way I’ll be able to stay sane through this.”
Sam seemed to be doing some complicated mental calculations. Now was Andi’s chance, the moment when she could jump in and offer to let Naveed stay with her instead. But she kept her mouth shut. Naveed had broken things off with her, after all, and right now she just couldn’t deal with him on top of everything else.
“All right,” Sam finally said. The moment had passed, the decision was made, and even though Andi still felt overwhelmed and uneasy, she couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief.
30
Cyrus
Tuesday, May 31
AS CYRUS DROVE HOME trailed by a police car, he made a mental list of things he would need to pack. His laptop, of course. All his chargers, he couldn’t forget those. But how many changes of clothes would he need?
How long would it take them to find Tara Snyder?
How long until this nightmare was over?
To Cyrus’s surprise, Auntie Leila’s car was still parked out front when they pulled up at the house. She and Roya should’ve hit the road hours ago. Why were they still here?
He glanced at Baba, who was spacing out in the passenger seat. “You didn’t text Auntie about Tara, did you?”
Baba shook his head. “No. Didn’t want them to change their plans.”
Cyrus could see Auntie Leila through a gap in the hedges, pacing through the grass and stopping periodically to crouch down, like she expected to find something waiting for her under a bush. Even though the officers had told them to wait until they’d scoped out the house and yard to make sure it was safe, Cyrus got out of the car.
Auntie Leila turned sharply as Cyrus entered the gate. “You’re back? So soon?”
The officers, two nearly-identical clean-cut white guys, were right behind him. “Afternoon, ma’am,” one of them said to her. Auntie Leila literally jumped.
“Long story,” Cyrus said. “Everyone’s okay, but… we’ll explain inside.” He didn’t want to talk about the courthouse drama out here in the open.
“Everything secure inside, ma’am?” one of the officers asked. “Or should we have a look around the house first?”
“Secure?” Auntie Leila said. “Oh—it’s fine, you can go in. Yes. Let’s all go in.”
“Leila? Is something wrong?” Baba asked as they walked through the front door. “Where’s Roya? She should be here for this. She needs to know what happened.”
Auntie Leila, who had been wearing a pair of Naveed’s slides, kicked the shoes off by the door. She kept her eyes on her feet as she said, “I don’t know. She was playing outside, but when it was time to leave for her appointment, I couldn’t find her. It’s like she just… vanished….”
The police officers exchanged a worried glance. Baba sat down hard on the sofa, like his legs had just given up. But Cyrus knew his sister well, and he figured Roya was probably around here somewhere, hiding from Auntie Leila to avoid her PT appointment or whatever. “When did you last see her?” Cyrus asked.
“I don’t know. I was working and lost track of time… so I’m not sure how long she was gone… before I noticed….” Auntie Leila said in a very small voice.
“We’ll have a look around,” said one of the officers. “Most likely, it’s just a misunderstanding, or she wandered off and will come back home any minute. But—we need to fill you in first. Can we sit?”
Everyone except Baba pulled up chairs at the dining room table, and as the officers explained what had happened at the courthouse, it slowly dawned on Cyrus why everyone was so freaked out.
There was a possibility that Tara Snyder had come here. That she’d seen Roya outside, chasing after chickens or digging holes in the yard, and she’d come up behind her, so quietly that Roya never even heard her before—
The thought was so gut-wrenching that Cyrus didn’t want to follow it any further. Roya had to be here somewhere. She had to.
He tore upstairs to check all the hiding spots Auntie Leila might not have tried: every cupboard large enough to hide her, every closet, behind all the doors, even inside the bathtub. He kept hoping she would pop out to surprise him, ending her epic game of hide-and-seek. When he got to her bedroom, he was briefly excited to hear a noise under her bed, but it was just Pashmak batting a chestnut around.
Once he was sure she wasn’t inside the house, he scoured the backyard. Reflexively, he looked up into the walnut tree. There was a time when she’d practically lived up there, sitting in the branches playing her flute for the birds. She wasn’t there, of course; she hadn’t climbed a tree in ages. She wasn’t with the chickens, wasn’t in the workshop or the garage, wasn’t curled up hiding beneath any hedges.
Eventually, he ran out of ideas, and had to admit to himself that Auntie Leila was right. Roya wasn’t here.
He returned inside, the familiar knot of dread in his gut twisting in on itself. The house seemed too warm. Stifling. He was tempted to crack open a window, but he doubted that would help.
“So she may have been gone for as long as an hour.” The officers looked grim. They didn’t have to say anything out loud for Cyrus to understand what they were thinking. That would have given Tara plenty of time to come to their house and take Roya.
But, he reminded himself, lots of people were working on this case right now. As soon as they knew Roya was gone, they’d put alerts up, they’d do everything in their power to find her before—
No. They were going to find her, and she was going to be all right. There was no other option.
“Did you see or hear anything suspicious?” they asked Auntie Leila, who was now in tears.
She shook her head no, but the question made Cyrus think of something. “Wait,” he said. “I did. At the courthouse. This guy—he might have had something to do with this.” He pulled up the picture on his phone. “The blond one. He was coming out of the bathroom as I was going in, and I have a hunch that he’s involved somehow. I mean, look at the guys he’s hanging out with… Alastor Yarrow, Raymond Whitaker….” Cyrus purposely didn’t call attention to Andi’s grandpa, especially since he didn’t even know the guy’s first name.
“Thanks. We’ll keep that in mind,” one of them said, jotting down a note that Cyrus strongly suspected said something totally unrelated to the case, like, Don’t forget to stop for doughnuts on the way home.
He supposed it did sound far-fetched. But if they weren’t going to investigate, he’d have to dive down that rabbit hole himself. Later.
The officers headed outside to have a look around the backyard and the alley behind their house. Once the door closed behind them, Cyrus was struck by how quiet it suddenly was. All week long, there had been a steady stream of visitors passing through: people who had worked with Maman through CFJ, random Persians bringing sholeh zard, not to mention the detectives investigating her death. The silence was unnerving.
Auntie Leila turned toward Baba, who had been staring into space on the couch this whole time. “Sam, I’m so sorry, but don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be okay—she’s tough, Roya—”
Baba stood up. “I’m going to pack,” he said in a monotone. “Kourosh, you should too.”
“Pack?” Auntie Leila asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Cyrus said, since Baba was already walking up the stairs. “They don’t think we should stay at home while Tara’s on the loose. So we need to go somewhere else for a while.”
“Where? Should I come with you?”
“You should go home,” Baba called behind him. His bedroom door slammed, shaking the walls.
Auntie Leila pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh God, poor Sam. I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe I let this happen. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her for a second! I should’ve paid more attention,” she blubbered.
“You didn’t know about Tara. It wasn’t your fault.” Cyrus patted her shoulder, but she only cried harder. “Sorry, Auntie, but I’d better get packed. It’s going to be okay, though. They’ll find her. I’m sure they will.”
Cyrus backed away and headed upstairs. He paused by the door to his parents’ room, wondering if he should say something to Baba. But he heard the floor creaking, followed by the low rumble of Baba’s voice. He was praying, probably.
An unexpected wave of grief hit Cyrus then, swelling through his body and completely overwhelming him. He staggered to his room and sank onto his chair, touching his forehead to the desk and saying his own version of a prayer. Come on, God, he thought desperately. Can’t you give us a win? Just this once?
The dread-knots inside his stomach were twisting themselves into the most unappetizing pretzel in the world. He honestly wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.
Even though he knew it probably wouldn’t help, he escaped into his phone. There were tons of notifications waiting for him, but he didn’t read any of them. The first thing he did was send Andi an encrypted text telling her about Roya. Then he wrote a group message to the Quirqi team. As he was composing it, he realized that he didn’t even know where he and Baba were going to stay, so he asked if they had any suggestions.
He threw random items of clothing into a duffel bag as he waited for their responses. Shea won the gold star for being the first to reply with an excellent suggestion: Maybe Philip would let you stay at his condo for a few days?
Great idea, thanks, he replied, then held his breath as he wrote to Philip. They hadn’t talked since the conference call on Saturday, which had gone surprisingly well: they’d actually convinced Philip to push for a meeting with Raymond Whitaker.
To Cyrus’s relief, Philip replied quickly. Of course, you can stay at one of the vacation rental condos—let me check on the details & I’ll get back to you.
Okay, good. One dilemma had been solved. As he was scrolling back through his texts, Cyrus had a thought: maybe Andi could stay at the condo too? She hadn’t texted him back yet, so he wrote again asking if she and Jake wanted to crash with them. Philip would probably be fine with it, and if it was just Cyrus and Baba trapped together for the foreseeable future, he might go insane.
That done, Cyrus packed up all the electronics he could, his own laptop and external hard drive backups, plus all the test phones, which would make good burners. He should probably bring the family laptop, too, he figured, so that Baba would have one to use if he needed to check work email. He headed downstairs, pausing again at his parents’ room, but this time he didn’t hear any sounds inside.
Once in the office downstairs, he packed up the family laptop, stowing it inside the dusty bag that had been shoved between the desk and the bookcase. Weirdly, he was kind of excited. Living in a downtown condo did sound kind of glamorous.
But it didn’t take long for the guilt to wash in. How could he even think such a thing when his little sister was missing?
When he returned to the dining room, the police officers were back inside, talking with Auntie Leila at the dining room table. Cyrus had a fleeting vision of his mother, of that horrible night when the police had come to their house investigating the murder of Brennan Walsh. Even though Maman had been through previous traumatic interrogations, she had nevertheless welcomed them into her home and served them tea.
