Page 90 of Ash Storm

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Reka

Reka paced the studio impatiently, wishing she’d taken Alexia up on her offer to go watch a movie together while the team worked out.

But she hadn’t been in the mood for a movie. In her mind, she kept replaying the conversation with her uncle. Though he hadn’t made any promises, Reka knew him well. He loved her and Chloe, and he also hated everything Afsan represented. If he was able to help stop Afsan, he would.

She approached the small table by the window, looking at Ash’s ongoing chess game. Like all mediocre chess players—she’d learned the principles, but hadn’t gotten much further than that—she felt deep admiration for people like Ash, who could see patterns where she just saw pawns and pieces.

Something pinged in the direction of the kitchen table. Reka approached, thinking at first it was her phone—well, the phone she’d been loaned, since her own phone was long gone, probably lying in some Istanbul landfill.

But the noise didn’t come from a phone. It came from Ash’s computer, which he’d left open.

And she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but once she saw the woman’s name on the screen, it became impossible not to look.

Zahra.

This was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this.

But you're gonna do it, anyway.

Her hand shaking with the wrongness of it, Reka clicked on the email. She opened the attachment first, holding her breath as the picture appeared of a little girl with warm brown eyes and pigtails, waving at the camera.

Reka moved on to the email.

Dear Ash,

Little Anna is getting bigger every day. Soon I won’t be able to lift her in my arms. Spring has come early to Munich this year, and I’ve been thinking about you. I hope everything is going well.

Yours,

Z

The intimacy in the signature line had her suck in a ragged breath.

She opened a fresh browser and typed in the woman’s name, taking what she assumed was her last name from the email address. It was a unique name, which made it easy to uncover the woman’s story.

Originally from Syria, Zahra had been medically evacuated to Germany years earlier, after an undisclosed incident.

Stop this.

You can’t stalk someone just because you’re jealous.

But it wasn’t just jealousy. And this was part of what made her a good psychologist, and a good researcher. Once she took hold of a problem, she had to uncover the truth. She had to know.

An old report from a global human rights NGO working in Syria gave her the answer she was looking for. Zahra was referred to by her initials throughout most of it, but her full name slipped through a couple of times.

Reka read the report quickly, then clicked on to find out more.

There was no mistake.

Zahra had been raped by a US soldier in Syria. She’d been hurt badly enough that she’d had to be evacuated to a German hospital.

Reka sat there for a long time, too stunned to even close the browsers she’d been looking at.