The Truth of Yesterday (79 page)

     “So he could be the killer?”

     Tad shrugged helplessly.

     “This changes everything.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “I need to talk to
Razi
.”

     “No! He's going to notice I've been gone too long soon and then he's going to come looking for me. We have to go. Please?”

     He was right. Tad was my first priority. The police could handle
Razi
. “Ok, I'll go get Micah. Wait by the car.”

     When I arrived back on
Razi's
floor however, Micah was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 32

     I stood uncertainly in the hall, trying to decide what to do next while the second hand on my watch ticked along. I tried to force my tired mind to think logically, although it put up a valiant fight. I'd left Micah here to watch out for
Razi
. I hadn't specifically told him what to do if
Razi
came out of his apartment, but I'd hoped he'd know enough to distract him somehow. Micah wouldn't have deserted his post, so if he wasn't here in the hall where I'd left him, it followed that he was most likely in
Razi's
apartment. I shuddered at the thought.

     Now that I had a reasonable assumption as to where he was, what did I do about it? I took a deep breath and walked boldly up to the door and knocked. It was only a few seconds before it swung open to reveal
Razi's
thin frame and frowning face. His eyes narrowed when he saw who was knocking on his door.

     “I should have known,” he said sharply.

     “Is Micah in here with you?” I asked, as if it seemed perfectly natural that he might be.

     “Yes, I opened my door and found him standing in the hall. He didn't mention you were with him.”

     “Oh, I was parking the car,” I lied fluidly.

     His frown deepened and I could tell he didn't totally believe me. I wondered frantically what pretext Micah had given him for being here. Until I knew, it would be better to avoid the issue.

     “You didn't happen to see Tad while you were out there did you?” he asked suspiciously.

     “He's the boy that lives with you?' I asked innocently.

     
Razi's
dark eyes flicked over me. “Yes, that would be him.”

     “A case of lost boys seems to be sweeping through the city,” I said with a smile.
Razi
gave me a blank stare. “I couldn't find Micah either,” I explained. It seemed to remind him that we were still standing at the door. He stepped back and motioned me in, somewhat ungraciously, I thought. He swept the hall with his gaze one last time before shutting the door firmly.

     I stepped into the living room and found Micah sitting on the couch, looking somewhat lost and nervous. I was struck again by the impersonality of the room. There was nothing of the person living here at all. It could have been any anonymous showroom apartment anywhere in the country, well furnished and tastefully decorated, but empty of soul.

     “I was just telling
Razi
how relieved we are that this whole mess if over,” Micah said a little too loudly. I blinked uncomprehendingly, my brain too exhausted to catch his hint. “You know,” he went on, “with Fenton being dead now we can finally put Paul's death behind us.”

     “Oh yeah,” I said, catching on at last. “It's been such a relief.”

     
Razi
walked slowly around me and stood facing me across the glass-topped coffee table adorned with several glossy oversized books featuring nude young men. He looked pointedly between Micah and
I
, then cocked his head to one side.

     “Shall we try again?” he said in a soft, deadly calm voice.

     “What do you mean?” I asked, the tension clear in my voice, even to me.

     “Why are you really here?”

     “I told you, now that this is all over we just wanted to see how you were,” Micah said. “I mean, you were Paul's closest friend and all…”

     
Razi
cut him off with a razor-sharp glare. He turned his attention back to me. “I know you were the one who found Fenton dead,” he said slowly. I shook my head in confusion. How could he know that? I knew it hadn't been released in the news. The media had been told that Fenton and his bodyguards had been found dead in an unrelated police raid on his estate and that was what they were reporting.
Razi
misinterpreted my headshake. “Don't bother denying it. I have excellent sources.”

     
“Sources?”
I asked stupidly. I was dying here. I had to clear my head; it was vitally important to my health and Micah's that I start thinking faster.

     “It doesn't matter who they are, let's just say I trust them implicitly. They've never let me down yet.”

     I sat down next to Micah and I felt his hand on my back, offering comfort. The slight tremble in his touch offered no reassurance however. He was as scared as I was, more so really since I was still a little too flustered to be properly worried.

     I shrugged. “Yeah, I found him, but what difference does that make? It's still over. Everything led to him. Paul had something on him, knew about his criminal activity and Fenton knew that he knew. So he had Paul killed.”

     
Razi's
eyes snapped to mine. “Had
him
killed?” he repeated.

     
“Or killed him himself.”
I tried to shrug my gaffe off. “Does it matter now? Paul is dead either way and so is Fenton. It's over.”

     “Is it?”
Razi
asked with a dangerous edge to his voice. I was beginning to worry about our chances of walking out of here easily.

     “Yes, it is. With Fenton dead the case is closed as far as the police are concerned.”

     “What about Fenton's killer?”

     “The police believe they have him custody.”

     “And what about you?” he asked.

     “What do you mean?”

     “Is it over as far as you are concerned? Do you believe the police have Fenton's killer in custody?” His eyes locked with mine.

     “What difference does it make what I think?” I asked in a small voice.

     “It makes a big difference…to the killer.”

     I laughed uneasily. “I think you're giving me too much credit.”

     “Am I? You pretty much single-handedly unraveled the mystery surrounding Paul's murder when the police couldn't.”

     “When the police wouldn't,” I corrected. “They could have if they had wanted to.”

     “I'm not so sure. You had contacts they didn't. People would talk to you that wouldn't talk to the police. People like TJ Jackson.”

     My eyes widened. He did have good sources if he knew
TJ's
name. “Where is all this going?” I asked, suddenly tiring of this tense game of cat and mouse.

     “Going? It's not going anywhere,”
Razi
said, and he suddenly seemed to relax. His shoulders slumped and a small smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “I'm just killing time until Tad gets back.”

     “Where'd he go?” I asked, relieved at the break in the tension. I felt Micah relax next to me as well.

     “To take out the trash,” he answered. He walked over to a long, narrow table against the wall and leaned casually against it. The table was completely barren except for a carved wooden staff lying stretched between a matching set of intricately fashioned brass stands. “He's never taken this long before. I hope he didn't run into trouble.” He threw me an unreadable look as he said the last.

     “You want us to go look for him?” Micah asked hopefully, no doubt seeing a chance to escape.

     “No, that's quite alright. I wouldn't want to impose.”

     “It wouldn't be an imposition as all,” Micah said quickly, too quickly.
Razi
smiled a little smile that I didn't like at all. I suddenly felt more uneasy with this relaxed
Razi
than I had when he was so clearly on edge.

     He trailed his fingers lazily across the staff. “It's beautiful, isn't it?” he asked conversationally.

     “It is,” I agreed. And it truly was; magnificently carved with mythical creatures writhing around its entire length.

     “It's one of the few things I own from my homeland,” he looked up at me, heavy lidded, almost seductive. “I didn't bring it with me of course. I didn't have time. No, I bought it here. I never told you my story, did I?” He was speaking only to me, as if Micah wasn't even in the room.

     I shook my head, my throat suddenly too tight to speak.

     “I told you the last time you were here that we all have stories. You asked me what mine was but I was rude and didn't tell you. I'll rectify that now, if you'll allow me.”

     I nodded.

     “I was born in the
West Bank
in a village not far from the Israeli border. My parents were considered freedom fighters by my people, terrorists by
Israel
and the
US
. Death was a daily occurrence; killing and fighting were a part of my earliest education. I could handle a gun by the time most American children are learning to tie their shoelaces. I can handle almost any weapon with ease, from a gun to a knife. I can even kill with my bare hands if I have to. It didn't mean I liked killing, just that I was good at it. When I was ten years old, my mother died in a car bombing. Two years later, Israeli soldiers arrested my father and he was never seen again. I was sent to live with my uncle and his wife.”

     He paused for a moment as I sat in horrified silence. I watched as he gripped one end of the staff and gave it a slight twist. To my surprise, a slender, steel dagger slipped from the staff like a sword from it sheath. The blade was no longer or wider than a large letter opener, but I had no doubt that the glittering edge was plenty lethal.
Razi
raised his eyes to us and gave a half-smile at the way our eyes were glued to the dagger.