DURING THE LATE AFTERNOON, Monica processed what had been drop-shipped into her life since Tuesday. While the household quieted for Asr, she walked to the window of her bedroom and admired the incredible scenery. The view was breathtaking, no matter what window of the home. Fountains sprayed like sparkling crystal, and the vibrant-green grass and shrubbery blending with spring’s display of color reminded her of a painting. How such beauty in a respite could carry a sinister air wasn’t unusual, just regrettable.
Dark-blue storm clouds rolled into view.
She took a moment to pray for all those within the house to see a woman who conducted herself in a respectful manner. The need for wisdom dominated her thoughts and discernment. She added thankfulness for God’s presence and a plea to curb her tongue.
She wanted to forget about Liam and the damage he’d inflicted upon countless lives. Why did Jeff bring up his name and link him to Kord? Her new partner hadn’t shown any of the man’s traits —no charming side mixed with brooding. No lies about how he longed to make the world a better place. No feigned desire to serve God. No promises of a future together with her. No late-night scribblings of the house they’d build together. No writing their vows. No lists of what they’d name their children.
Why couldn’t she get past it?
Since Liam’s betrayal, the male gender frightened her, pushed her into a corner where she doubted her abilities. Didn’t help that she worked in a male-dominated career. She’d created more walls and added mortar to the existing ones. Jeff once called Liam the “unfortunate incident.” He’d been more than an unfortunate incident —he’d been a gruesome degradation of a greedy man.
Her nightmares reminded her of the miserable mess and how she’d fallen prey to Liam’s manipulation. Night after night she relived it in vivid color. Mostly red.
God promised to help her get past the memories, but first she had to stop punishing herself and allow Him to work.
A text landed in her secure phone, interrupting her preoccupation.
From Kord. Can u meet me on the W terrace? 3 things 2 discuss.
OMW
Attached to the text was a link to Prince Omar’s informant report and another to the security footage at MD Anderson.
Monica left her scarf behind. If she ran into the prince, at least her arms and legs were covered. Outside the home, Kord stood near potted flowers and plants. A great shot for a photographer. She caught herself and reined in the attraction that couldn’t go any further than a flirtatious thought. Hadn’t she just admitted the whole male population prevented her from moving forward in any relationship?
He waved and joined her. “Up for a walk?”
“Sure.” They ventured toward a far corner of the property near a clump of oak trees. A white marble bench seemed to invite them.
Once seated, Kord grabbed his phone. “I sent you a file.”
Monica read the intel from the prince’s informant. “The man gives three names, all Iranians. I’ll forward this to Jeff to check them out too.”
“I doubt they are still alive.”
“I’d rather know who was behind this. Adding to the body count is not my style.”
“Take a look at the security footage,” Kord said.
She reflected on the images of the person authorities believed was responsible for three deaths. Relaxed. Observant. Wore gloves. Most criminals worked alone, but due to the nature of international terrorism, she banked on a conspiracy. She replayed the footage outside the hospital entrance three times.
“Do you see anything unusual other than the man knows where every camera is located, just like at the high school?” he said.
“He either knows how to utilize a disguise or the scheme has more than one player.”
“My analysis too.” Kord pointed to a taxi driver who’d spoken to the killer. The man was Caucasian. Six foot. Red hair. “Can you read what he said to the killer?”
“Zoom in.” The footage rolled just enough for her to make out two words. “He said, ‘Morning, sir.’ Nothing there unless that was a code for something. Has he been questioned?”
“Yes, and released. He checked out.”
She read additional investigation reports. “What’s your take on the FBI interviews here in Houston? I see they’ve conducted four —three Iranian men and one woman from Syria who’ve been on our watch list.”
“All had alibis for yesterday and this morning. National and international interviews are in progress. Early reports show nothing substantial. Surveillance teams are in place.”
She considered the strong possibility of another attempt and a driving force propelling her to find the killer.
A cardinal fluttered into the treetops.
Monarch butterflies tasted spring flowers.
She didn’t have to end this case herself, but being honest hadn’t stopped the need to prove her value. Her insides burned.
“You mentioned three matters,” she said. “Curiosity is getting the best of me, and patience is not part of my operating system.”
“Who is in our line of work?”
She gave him a thumbs-up. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’d like for you to help me figure something out.”
“If I can.”
“In talking to Fatima and Yasmine, did either of them bring up my name?”
Okay, she’d play. “Does this have to do with your Romeo role?”
“I didn’t tell you everything. Fatima thought I was in love with her.”
Now she understood Fatima’s animosity. “Are you telling me you two had an affair?” She shook her head. “That would be punishable by death.”
“She mistook my interest in the family as a lifelong commitment to her. She approached me in secret and declared her love. She was only sixteen. I tried to be gracious and flattered, but she was very upset.”
“You’re sure Prince Omar didn’t learn about it?”
“If Fatima had gone to him or their father, she’d have to admit to sneaking off to see me.”
“I get it. Have you talked to her since their arrival?”
“No. The vibes are bad.”
“Do you want me to bring up your name?” Monica startled at a thought. “We have everyone in this house under a microscope, but do you suspect her involvement with the murders?”
“Hope not. If she chooses to be confrontational, it would be to discredit me in her brother’s eyes. I hurt her pride. She’s impetuous and stubborn but not stupid. If Prince Omar believes I acted inappropriately, our friendship would be over. Due to the current mess, the situation between our two countries could go south real fast. Think about the nightmare media headlines. ‘Prince Omar’s friend and requested US bodyguard accused of having an affair with his sister.’ I’m asking if you think I should arrange a meeting with her, both of you.”
“Avoiding the subject with Fatima is the best route.”
He stared into the trees. “Use your best judgment. If I need to talk to her, we can work something out. The last thing we need is her ruining my credibility.”
“Yasmine told me she was upset because one of Prince Omar’s friends was here. I assumed a bodyguard.”
“Not exactly. I do have another matter to run past you.”
She held up four fingers.
He gave her a quick nod. “Just had a private meeting with the prince.” Kord revealed the prince’s desire to take a better front in assisting his country’s development by initiating a press conference and a rodeo event in a private suite. “Plans are to dine oil executives. Not bring up leasing of oil reserves.”
“If he’s determined to become a leader, why are his sisters here in the thick of danger?” She found it difficult to accept a changed man when his views about the modern world and women were archaic.
“His mother would be devastated if they left. I tried to convince him, but for now the princesses are under his eye. There’s no denying Saudi Arabia’s enemies will continue to press against them in every direction. Especially when the country’s advancements in every arena make them stronger as a world power.”
She nodded. “Our killer is organized, mobile, one step ahead of us, and hiding in plain sight. Kord, he’s among us and knows every move Prince Omar makes. Why doesn’t he send his bodyguards home and get a new crew?”
“What would you have him do with them once they’re back in Saudi?”
“Hold them in custody until someone confesses. Their judicial system accelerates ours in the way of obtaining information. Even if I don’t agree with their methods.” She peered into his brown eyes. “How much do you trust the FBI?”
“How much do you trust the CIA?”
“Don’t want to go there unless we have proof,” she said. “But it’s a no-brainer —a mole on the prince’s team or ours. And someone has us scrambling.”
“Tough call. Let’s hope we don’t have to explore it further. We have a suspicious nature, and if I had a reason to doubt either agency, trust me, I’d be overturning rocks.”
Kord’s use of a familiar phrase ripped open an old wound. “Do me a favor. I have an immense dislike for the phrase ‘trust me.’ The moment I hear it, I want to choke whoever said it.”
He laughed, taking her off guard. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Glad you find me amusing. Something else you should know. Our job is protection detail, but I want to be the one to bring down these bad boys.”
His eyes flicked a peculiar glance her way, one she couldn’t read. Had he been informed about Liam?
“What?” she said.
“I took a bullet for Prince Omar, and the scar on my back is a reminder of what happens when I begin to think I’m invincible.”
Possibly she’d met her match. “When you were involved in rescuing his wife and son?”
“Another time. We were outside a restaurant in Paris when shooting broke out. Figured the bullets were for him and made sure they didn’t reach the target.”
“You shielded him?”
“Yep.”
“Anything else I should know about your and the prince’s relationship?” she said.
“No. Those are the reasons why we’re friends.”
“So who has the most to lose from Prince Omar continuing with economic improvements? Ali wears his anger like a plate of armor, but it appears a righteous rage. I have Jeff digging for anything on him, but so far nothing. The other bodyguards and house staff have no red flags in their backgrounds to question. Then there’s Fatima and the wrath of a spurned woman.”
“I’m delving into Malik, the press secretary. Having problems reading him. Too quiet for my liking. Our reports exonerate him —not sure I do.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open on all counts, including Fatima.”
“Too bad she’s not married.”
Monica didn’t envy his worry about Fatima destroying his friendship with Prince Omar. Neither was she apprehensive about his ability to complete the job. Taking a bullet for someone vested the relationship. What she feared was one of the Saudi men paving the way for Prince Omar’s killer.
“Kord, what if a member of the household is helping the killer unwillingly?”