It seemed to Jess that buying something was the least they could do to help Wally’s friend’s family. She’d barely begun to browse through a tower of intricately woven baskets when the rug moved aside and an older man appeared.
“Tyler Donovan.” he greeted them. “I am glad to meet you. Wally speaks highly of you.”
“Thank you, sir. I’d like you to meet Wally’s daughter, Jess Maulier. Jess, this is Hakim Mazarek.”
To her surprise, the man’s open face crumpled with sadness. “Jessie,” he said softly. “You are here. Then my worst fears must be true. What happened to my friend Wally?”
The uncomfortable news of Wally’s death had brought tears to Hakim’s eyes, and a quietly spoken, “Come.” As he led them upstairs to the family’s living quarters, Jess was surprised to find herself blinking back tears, too. The grief took her by surprise and made her self-conscious, as if she might not have a right to grieve a man she’d no longer known. She was glad for the stretch of silence as Hakim showed them to a couch and went to the kitchen to make tea.
She sat quietly, trying to sort out her feelings. This Egyptian man, this stranger she’d never heard of before today, knew her. He knew that her father had loved and protected her so much that her being there, no longer anonymous and hidden, was proof he must have died. For the first time the depth of her father’s love hit home. As Donovan roamed the room, taking in the details of family photographs and furnishings, she struggled with an unexpected twist of pain in her chest, a realization that she had lost more than she would ever know. Surreptitiously wiping her eyes with the ends of her hijab, she did her best to compose herself before Hakim returned. If Donovan noticed, he didn’t say anything.
Hakim returned with a tray bearing a pot and three cups. Donovan sat next to her as they silently accepted the steaming cups of tea. Jess wanted to question the water source and whether it was from a tap or bottled, but since it had obviously been boiled and Donovan had taken a cup, she bit back her doubts and took a sip of the dark brew. A strong bitterness nearly gagged her. She swallowed quickly and reached for the sugar she’d initially declined, stirring in three teaspoons before gingerly taking another sip. Better, but still the blackest, strongest tea she’d ever tasted.
Hakim set his cup aside after little more than a taste. “You must tell me what happened to my friend. Please.”
Donovan nodded. “As you surmised, he was killed by an Egyptian man who followed him all the way back to his house in Michigan before he caught him.” Donovan skipped Wally’s visit to Houston but explained about the torture and induced heart attack. “Wally was unable to give us the information he had before he died.”
It wasn’t exactly true, but Jess didn’t contradict him. This was Donovan’s area of expertise, and if he was guarded about what he revealed to whom, she was fine with that.
“I know he came to see you when he first arrived in Luxor. Did he tell you what he was looking for?”
“Two students, yes? They were being held someplace. He came to me to ask about unrest at the universities, political groups, whether anyone might use kidnapping as leverage, or to make a point.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I knew of no such groups. There is political unrest, yes; these are times of change. But the focus is on our own government, with nothing to gain by holding American students hostage. If this is what happened, my guess is it is not a group connected to the university.”
She saw Donovan’s disappointment. “Did he ask about anyone else, or tell you who he intended to check out?”
“No, I’m sorry. We spoke mostly of family news. He told me Jessie had a contract for a new series of books.”
She nearly dropped her tea. “He knew that? He…he talked about it?”
“He was very proud of your work. My grandson learned to read English with the Mossy Log Meadow books Wally gave him.” Hakim pointed to a bookshelf, where she recognized the green spines of five Mossy Log books wedged in next to weightier tomes. Tears sprang to her eyes again.
“He promised to come back and visit again after he located the hostages and arranged for their rescue, but I think he was afraid of something he found out and wouldn’t come here.”
Donovan came to attention. “How do you know? You saw him before he left? Met him somewhere?”
“No, no. He sent a boy with a message. This was his plan if he thought he was followed, to make sure no one connects us to this other work he does. To keep my family safe.”
“What did he say?”