Behind the Lies (Montgomery Justice #2)(30)

Zach switched his computer to a normal browser and typed in Brad’s name.

A ton of results popped up, but none for a computer salesman from La Jolla.

Weird.

He searched the local California television stations. Surely Brad would have reported his wife missing by now.

No news stories. The man was invisible. No business articles, no record of him in the local chamber of commerce. Everybody had some mention on the Internet. What kind of man chose to be this invisible? Answer: a man who had something to hide.

He reconfigured the search for Jenna’s name.

Several items popped up. Events for a preschool. A birth announcement for Sam. Not much else. The Walters gave a new meaning to “low-key.”

“Is this your secret hideout?” Sam’s voice piped up from the doorway.

He hovered. Zach could tell the boy was itching to enter. With a quick swivel, Zach faced the awestruck boy.

“Do you like it?”

Sam nodded and shifted from foot to foot.

“You wanna come in?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’d let me? My dad never lets me near his stuff. One time—”

The boy paused and looked down at his feet.

Zach leaned toward Sam. “What happened?”

“He yelled. Really mean. Then Mommy yelled back.” Sam lifted his gaze to Zach’s. “I don’t like when they yell.”

“Sometimes grown-ups yell, Sam.”

“I know. But I still don’t like it.”

Zach ruffled Sam’s hair. “Do you like video games? I’ve got some cool ones upstairs.”

Sam nodded. Zach turned off the system. If he wanted information about Brad, he’d have to find another way.

The question remained, who’d removed his access to the secure systems?




Farzam entered his cramped Kabul home after bouncing over dirt roads up the hills surrounding the city. He shouldn’t be living in this pigsty. He was a scientist. An educated man. But he’d fallen mightily over the last six months. From a well-respected member of the community to practically a beggar. And all because his brother-in-law had been stupid enough to deal with the Americans. Their CIA had promised Pendar the world.

Look what it had gotten him and his sister. A spray of bullets, and their daughters taken as slaves.

A loud knock sounded on the door.

Farzam’s entire body shook as he turned to the flimsy barrier. What if he didn’t answer? Would they go away?

The next pounding shook the door on its hinges. He had no choice. He swallowed and slowly opened to the outside.

A man with an AK-47 shoved two filthy girls at him. “Khalid sends his regards. They’re yours now. They’ve done their duty.”

The guerilla fighter grinned, and his nieces fell to the floor in front of him.

He lifted the chin of Aliya, the older daughter. He winced at the shamed expression in her eyes. She’d been used, fully and painfully. She would never have a husband now.

“Uncle?” the girl whispered, using one hand to cover the torn clothes. “Please, don’t turn us away.”

“Go to the kitchen. Your aunt will care for you.”

The older girl held the hand of her sister and led her out of the room. His wife let out a shocked scream.

Farzam turned so as not to reveal the sting in his eyes to the man who had delivered what was left of his sister’s family. They had been on the cusp of something wonderful. Now she was dead and he was left to clothe and feed her two daughters along with his own son. His nieces would have no life. Even if they recovered from this abuse, word would disseminate. They were ruined.

“You have a son,” the gun-wielding intruder snapped. “Bring him.”

His wife gasped from the kitchen. “No, Farzam. No.”

“Khalid wishes to be certain of your loyalty.”

Farzam bowed his head. “I am loyal.”

“You were educated in the West. Your words mean nothing. Khalid wants proof.”

Proof? What could Farzam possibly offer? He no longer had funds, or a decent job, or access to equipment and information from any of his Western contacts.

Twelve-year-old Hamed walked into the living room, his hand in his pocket, his chin held high. “I am here, Father.”

Farzam closed his eyes. He could see the beginnings of the man his son could become. If he lived that long.

“The boy has more courage than his father. Come. If your father proves his worth perhaps you will return to this hovel. Unless you find your calling with us.”

Hamed followed the man from their house down the dusty road, the shacks and hovels framing his son’s brave figure. In triumph, the guerilla looked back at Farzam. Hamed raised his chin, but Farzam recognized the fear.

He slammed the door and kicked at the flimsy chair in the corner. The thing shattered into pieces at his feet.

He blamed Pendar, but truthfully, his brother-in-law had simply been a fool. The true cause of everything happening he could name. One man had caused his family to lose everything.

Zane Morgan.

Proof.

If Farzam killed the CIA operative, maybe he could buy back Hamed’s life and soul. Of course, Zane Morgan had disappeared in the way of all lying devils, but Farzam would find him. There had to be a way.

His wife came out of the kitchen, tears rolling down her cheeks, disappointment in her gaze. He had failed her. He wouldn’t fail his son.