Page 52 of Acting on Instinct
Kira picked up her phone and dialed Lula, again, listening to the voicemail prompt to leave a name, number, and brief message, then the ping.
“Lula!” Kira called out too loudly. “I need to know what’s going on. I’m sending you a picture. Tell me what to do. Urgent!” Her words were a nonsensical jumble. She should have said urgent first, Kira thought as she disconnected. She took a picture of London’s note and debated sending it. What if someone saw it and it put London in danger? But that was crazy. How would anyone get hold of Lula’s phone? Her phone probably had encryption stacked on top of encryption. Besides, Lula would know to erase it.
With shaking hands and blurred vision, Kira tapped her message into the text field.
Kira: I left a voicemail. Erase photo after reading. Help! please.
She thought about sending a message to Ty, but he left his personal phone in his locker on base, so there was nothing on him that could be used against him if things turned bad. And he always called the moment he was home.
Kira took a moment to carefully fold the letter back and wedge it into the secret opening on the ring. She slid the ring onto her pointer finger and thought how bulbous and large it was, how it would attract attention.
She was up and pacing from her front door to the back.
From the back to the front.
Her body was filled with tiny effervescent bubbles that made even standing still impossible.
Why? Why? Why?
Suddenly energized into action, Kira raced up the stairs and dragged her luggage from the closet, opening it wide on her bed. She ran from room to room, gathering and dumping items onto her mattress, still unmade from when she and Ty had been together that morning.
She snatched up the picture of them from her night table and wrapped the frame with one of the silk ribbons he’d tied around her wrists. She laid them gently on her pile.
She wasn’t coming back; Kira knew it in her bones. This house wasn’t safe. She’d have to live a secretive life hidden from her uncle.
What she took was what she’d have.
Opening her safe, Kira pulled out her emergency cash, her Qatari and American passports. She brought what she needed to work from her office and then started with clothing basics. The practical—panties and bras, hiking boots, tennis shoes, and socks.
Where was she going? What would she need?
Kira could hear herself asking the right questions, but didn’t hear any answers.
Still, her hands moved, rolling, folding, tucking.
The next thing she knew, she stood outside her front door, locking the deadbolt.
With her keys in her hand, the next thing to do was get in her car and drive.
Drive where? It was after midnight.
The light on her porch was dark, and Kira stole over to her car. But getting in would be bright and loud. She wouldn’t go undetected by anyone, let alone Uncle Nadir’s professional thugs if they hovered near.
And they’d know she knew because why else would she be creeping out of her house with a suitcase and a backpack?
Maybe the thugs weren’t here yet.
Kira pressed the button on her fob to unlock her car, and the bright chirrup made her shoulders convulse. She quickly swept the area, looking for any movement or strange shadows.
Maybe London’s note meant that Uncle Nadir hired someone local to report on her. Maybe they were still in the reporting part of the assignment. There would be little to tell. Kira went almost nowhere, staying mostly at home unless Ty or a friend enticed her out. She’d been a hermit because her house had felt safe.
No, London said that Uncle Nadir knew Kira was bringing shame to the family. In her mind, that could only mean someone had discovered Ty was spending nights with her, or at least visiting her at home when she was alone with him. Yes, even that was enough of a middle finger to Uncle Nadir’s particular ideas on what was unacceptable behavior for his niece that he’d want to punish her, Kira’s American norms be damned.
But from Kira’s reading of the note, the report was made, and a plan had been formed. There would be questions aboutOmar’s death, and there would be some kind of way that she’d be contained. Certainly, if Uncle Nadir thought she was a tainted woman, he wouldn’t pawn her off as the wife to someone of importance. And certainly Uncle Nadir wouldn’t be interested in anyone joining the family if they were unimportant.
She’d been warned of honor killings all her life.
And somehow, she always knew that was probably how she’d die.
