Controlling Interest (12 page)

“Don't try figuring out these two, Matt.” Regrouping, Natalie picked up Tinkerbell. “Let me introduce you to the most important member of the family.”

“That would be me.” Her brother stuck his messy dark-haired head around the refrigerator door, blue eyes dancing. “Right, Pipsqueak?” He ruffled Tink's hairy ears. The dog snarled at him.

“Don't antagonize the cook's roommate.” Natalie tilted her head toward Matt. “Nick, this is my new — new — ” Matt probably wouldn't appreciate having the partner thing rubbed in his face.

Before she could figure out what to supply, Nick rose to full height, a carton of milk in one large hand. “Boyfriend?” His rubber face shifted into younger-brother mockery. “You mean Felschow crashed and burned even faster than the last one? What was his name? Oddity? Oddment?”

“Ozment,” Natalie said, annoyed. “Matt's not my boyfriend. We happen to be working together on a missing persons case.”

As usual her brother glossed over the most pertinent information. “Then Felschow's still hanging around? When're you going to give that arrogant idiot the boot he deserves?”

Natalie glanced at Matt, who leaned back against the doorframe, eyes alight. Nick never knew when to stop. The only way to avoid being eaten alive was to attack first. “Does Dad know you did that stunt audition for the new Grisham movie?”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” Nick glanced at his parents, who had drifted into the living room together. “I'm gonna tell him after grade reports come out.”

“You do movie stunts?” Matt looked admiring.

“I've been an extra in a couple of flicks filmed here. Been training for the stunt stuff. I'm into martial arts, and I've done some rock climbing and skateboarding and — ”

“You're supposed to be looking for a real job.” Natalie gave her brother a reproving frown. “Something safe, like waiting tables.”

Nick waved airily. “Dad always comes around. You know it's easier to get forgiveness than permission.”

“Nick!”

Her brother laughed. “Come on, Nat, lighten up. You're worse than Mom.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Deb had returned to the kitchen, wiping her hands on an embroidered tea towel tucked into the waistband of her slacks.

“Mind your own business, Natalie,” Nick muttered under his breath. “I'll tell 'em in my own time.”

Grinning at Natalie's spluttering indignation, Matt addressed Nick. “What year are you in, man?”

“Third-year sophomore at UM.” Nick's glare dared Natalie to comment. “I'm not a complete egghead like some people.”

The front door opened, and Nina came in without knocking.
“¡Hola, mi familia!”

“It's my other big sister!” Nick ran to snatch Nina into a bear hug. He rubbed his chin whiskers against her flyaway caramel-colored curls.

She wriggled. “You're squishing me! Let go!”

Nick patted her on the head. “Ten minutes older, and she thinks she can boss me around.” He scooped a handful of blueberries off the platter and flung himself onto a kitchen chair.

“You guys are twins?” Matt looked from Nick to Nina.

“Technically. Mom swears we were both in her womb at the same time.” Nina gave Matt her shy smile. “I'm Nina.”

“I figured.” He offered a hand. “I'm Matt. Your dad's my business partner.”

Natalie noticed he hadn't mentioned her. Masking her hurt, she checked the bread soaking in its batter. “Mom, should I start a round of toast?”

“Please. Nina, did you bring the orange juice? Good. Who'd like some?” Mom herded the men into the living room.

While Nina poured juice, Natalie adjusted the griddle temperature. She enjoyed cooking, though she'd be the first to admit she wasn't terribly good at it.

She caught Nina looking at her. “What?”

“He's cute,” Nina whispered, angling her head toward the living room, where Matt was relaxing on Mom's white love seat. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Come to think of it, I don't know.” Natalie frowned. “But he's thirty, so he's too old for you.”

“I didn't mean for me, silly.” Nina rolled her eyes. “Although ten years isn't
that
big a deal.”

“Well, I'm sure not interested. Anyway, he's trying to get rid of me. Dad gave me part interest in his agency, and Matt resents the heck out of it. I'm quitting my job in Tunica on Monday, moving back home.”

Squealing, Nina set down the juice carton and ran to hug Natalie. “Yea! Are you moving in with Mom? Wait a minute.” She pulled back to frown at Natalie. “How come you didn't tell me?”

“No firm plans on housing, and I didn't tell you because it's a recent development.” Natalie smiled at her sister. “I've been tied up with our case since Thursday morning.”

“Ooh! A real case. What kind?”

“Missing person. One of Dad's Pakistani clients lost his daughter. We think she ran away, but nobody knows why. She was supposed to get married in a couple of months.”

“That sounds romantic. Sort of Romeo and Juliet-ish.” Nina batted her soft blue eyes.

“Maybe.” Natalie frowned. “We're going to interview Yasmine's parents tonight. If she had another boyfriend in Pakistan, that might explain it.” Her father's boisterous laughter, booming counterpoint to her mother's infectious chuckle, caught her attention. “What's going on with the parental units? They're spending an awful lot of time together lately.”

“You mean in a romantic way?” Nina made a face. “Mom's not about to give up her job to go back to the Suzy Homemaker gig. They're just bickering as usual over child support.”

“Doesn't sound like bickering to me.” Natalie shook her head and flipped a piece of toast. “But you're right, they both seem perfectly content to be single. Hey, hand me that platter, so I can unload some of this stuff.”

As Nina helped her shuffle thick, crisp chunks of toast onto the serving plate, Natalie couldn't resist a glance into the living room. Mom sat on the arm of the chair Dad occupied, though she was smiling at some enthusiastic tale Nick was telling. Dad's gaze was on Mom. He looked happier, more relaxed, than she'd seen him in a long time.

Natalie was about to elbow Nina when she realized Matt was watching
her
watch her parents. As their eyes met, a faint, quizzical smile took the place of the rather sardonic expression she'd gotten used to over the last couple of days.

Suddenly off balance, as if he'd caught her mentally undressed, she averted her eyes and started babbling to Nina about syrup containers. But as she tried to focus on her sister's reply, one thought took center stage in her mind: how could half a smile seem more intimate than anything she'd ever done with the men she used to date in college?

Haq stood at the plate glass window of his penthouse, looking down on Union Avenue. He kept an apartment in Memphis not only because it was convenient to have a base of operations, but also as a means of assuring U.S. immigration authorities that he intended to continue doing business that would promote good relations between Pakistan and America.

Keeping INS happy was of primary importance.

He had spent the previous day making phone calls, checking the background of the detective hired to find his fiancée. The results were mixed. Matthew Hogan had at one time possessed a stellar reputation for entrapping cheating spouses, but just last year he had been involved in a case with less than successful results. His former client was, in fact, currently serving a long term in prison for campaign fraud.

Haq had no intention of finding himself in a similar embarrassing situation.

At least Yasmine's parents had arrived to help oversee the search. Abid Patel had called the moment he landed at the Memphis airport, and Feroz had driven them to the Peabody. Patel could afford the best — which was, of course, his main attraction as a father-in-law.

Money. One simply had to have it.

His iPhone buzzed quietly against his hip, and he looked at the caller ID before answering. “I have told you repeatedly not to call directly. It is too dangerous.”

Faisal Yashir chuckled. “You give the Americans entirely too much credit, my brother. They listen in the wrong places.”

“It is you who makes the mistake of underestimating them.” Haq wheeled away from the window. The sight of all those cars whizzing up and down the avenue below, symbols of infidel wealth, burned his soul. Wealth could buy any amount of information.

“Ah, Jarrar. Fear brings mistakes. You must act with cold confidence. I have the product for which you have been waiting. I only await your payment.”

Haq thought of the desertion of his intended bride, whose wealthy father would have no relationship to him until the marriage contract was signed. “I will have it soon. My marriage is to take place in two weeks.”

And, praise be to Allah, he would find Yasmine before then. He would make very sure of it.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

S
aturday morning Yasmine slipped out the front door of the shelter onto an all but deserted Jackson Street. Stomach hollow with apprehension, she squinted in the bright sunshine. She had to find Rafiqah today.

Last evening she had arrived at the testing center where Rafiqah worked, only to discover that it had closed an hour earlier. With no phone number or address with which to contact her friend, she would be forced to come back tomorrow.

As she'd trudged back in the direction from which she'd come, it finally occurred to her why the red shield on the thrift store window seemed so familiar. During the earthquake of '05 she had been safe in Islamabad, but the aftershocks had affected her work in the embassy. She had been kept busy translating for American relief organizations who sent volunteers into the mountainous areas of northern Pakistan.

When she'd spotted another of the Salvation Army symbols on Beale Street, she'd timidly walked inside. The administrator, a kind but busy man, had said they only housed men and directed her to the women's shelter a few blocks over. The workers there provided a meal and a clean bed, then fed her a hot bowl of oatmeal this morning. She wasn't fond of the gooey stuff, but at least it filled and warmed her. These American Christians were extraordinarily kind.

The roiling of her stomach had nothing to do with lack of food. Indecision. If she hadn't waited so long, perhaps she would already be safe with Rafiqah. The longer she was on her own, the more likely she would be forced to return to Jarrar.

Maybe she should return voluntarily.

Blinking stinging eyes, she faced the Peabody Hotel looming on the corner of Union and Beale. She could check into the room her family had reserved for her and call Abbi and Ammi. Cast herself upon their mercy and ask forgiveness for the unthinkable thing she had done. Tell them she'd returned for her wedding. All would go as planned, and by mid-summer she would be Jarrar Haq's bride.

A wife. To a man who was not Zach.

And she would have to close her eyes to who Jarrar Haq was.

“May it never be,” she whispered.

With a shuddering breath, she reversed her direction and headed toward the tall, glass-and-steel building where her friend worked.
My Lord, give me courage, I pray.

After an hour spent scouring the alleys behind Silky's, Matt called Natalie and asked her to meet him in the lobby of the Peabody. A national historic landmark built in the 1920s, the old hotel boasted Italian Renaissance architecture that played like a
Gone with the Wind
set. It was a thriving tourist attraction, but Matt had walked past it so many times that now it was just a fixture on the skyline.

He found Natalie sitting in a comfortable chair, one of several clustered near the central bar, staring up at the stained glass skylight in the domed atrium.

“What's the matter? You look like your best friend stole your boyfriend.”

Natalie rolled her head to look up at him. “I feel like a failure. I just interviewed the clerk in the thrift store. The lady showed me Yasmine's tunic and pants outfit, but had no idea where she went when she left the store. Yasmine apparently isn't one for chitchat.”