Page 122 of High Treason
She feared dissolving into a puddle of despair, and she blamed her illness. But Kord was the voice of reason, although she had no idea how or why she’d unloaded the story. It must be to pave the road to freedom and peace.
He towered over her. “I’m leaving you alone to take care of business.”
“Are you sure you’re not a believer?”
“Working hard on it.”
“You’re a lot closer than you think.” She bit into her lower lip. “Keep me updated.”
“I will.” He turned to leave.
“Kord, do my struggles deter your faith?”
“You have a grip on God, and I admire it. I think the problems you’re experiencing are more about your perfectionism than the reality of a creator God. Your secret’s safe with me.”
When he left the room, she sensed a profound loneliness. Except the emptiness had nothing to do with Kord but about the condition of her soul. Perhaps the ugly past happened to draw her close to God again. And in the stillness, the pain in her body subsided to a renewal of spirit. The memories would remain, dim as time passed, but they’d always serve as a reminder of what evil people tried to accomplish.
MONDAY MORNING,Monica took a glimpse at the clock on the nightstand in her room. Nearly time for the video call with the Dagher women in Riyadh. Fatima and Yasmine had helped her to a chair and dressed her in traditional Saudi black. Although she was forced to wear the IV, by keeping her arm down, the camera shouldn’t detect it. A small table held her laptop as though she were sitting at a desk.
The physical effort had sapped her, but she’d not admit it. By the time the day hit its end, she’d walk the upstairs hallway to build her strength.
In five minutes, the interview with Youssof Dagher’s mother and sisters would take place. Kord sat across the room, ready to assist with his mic. He’d be giving Monica prompts or insights from the women’s body language that she could hear through her earbud. He looked at her differently, softer, and it wasn’t her imagination. Prior to dressing for the interview, she’d received his text.
With God all things r possible.
Have u chosen belief?
Yep.
Knowing his faith in God now had roots, she shouldn’t fear her caring for him. How very strange to fear a relationship while craving it at the same time. Later they’d talk. Most likely after the mission ended.
The computer screen came to life with four women wearing black from head to toe and seated in a bleak-looking room in total gray scale. The male translator did an audio test, and they were ready to go.
“Miss Alden, these women are aware you have questions for them.”
“Thank you,” she said in Arabic and gave a slight smile. “I’m sorry for the tragedies that have fallen upon your family. I understand the heartache of losing loved ones. My hope is to offer comfort and possibly address questions about Youssof and Rashid.”
One of the women stiffened, but nothing was said.
“Good,” Kord said into her earbud. “You’ve established your purpose.”
“I’m so sorry about Youssof’s car accident and your father being detained. We women treasure our relationships with the men in our families, and without them, life is unthinkable.”
“The older woman’s body language says she distrusts you,” Kord said.
Monica interpreted the same reaction.
“How is my son?” the woman said.
Monica could only imagine how the woman’s heart ached for her child. “He’s critical with serious burns, broken bones, and a concussion. A friend spoke to him, and he expressed concern about his father, you, and his sisters.”
“Are you a mother?” the woman said.
“Not yet.”
“As a woman, what can you do for my husband and son?”
“I can bring truth to those looking for answers.”
