yet oddly hoarse. There was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. “But, no, you wanted Ruhul.”
Was it possible? Ruhul Al-Nassar? Her father? Who did he think she was? Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely think. But she knew in her gut it was critical that she was amiable and went along with whatever insane belief he had.
“Why do you shrink from me?”
She looked up at him with every ounce of willpower she had and smiled, hoping it was sweet and innocent, as her insides clenched so tight they hurt.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Raja,” he said gently, as if repetition would somehow get him what he wanted.
It didn’t matter who she was. In the last few hours a new horror had been foisted on her. It was clear he was confused, at best. At worst, insane. She only wanted to curl up at the horror of it all. But she knew that wouldn’t save her. She had to act out his obvious delusion. If he believed her to be her mother, then that was who she would be. Tara knew it was a survival tactic on her part. She’d learned that and more in a number of psychology classes.
It was a horrible role to play, a terrible thing to contemplate. She wasn’t her mother.
Tara tried not to show her disgust or fear as his hand continued to stroke her cheek. She had to stop this before it was unstoppable, for he was quick this time and his hand had dropped from her cheek and was inside her blouse, under her bra. It was clear what he wanted and that this time he might not be ready to wait.
Fear combined with her full bladder and suddenly she couldn’t control either. She peed her pants.
She saw his eyes look downward to the stream of urine pooling around her and saw the look of disgust on his face. He stood, took two steps back and strode back to the others.
For the first time since her horror began, Tara had the upper hand.
Hopefully her brothers would find her before her time ran out.
Tuesday, September 15, 10:00 a.m.
They were heading south and east with a slight wind that was causing the unseasonal light rain to lash against the windshield, turning the sand hitting the glass into a paste that slid along the window, obscuring the view. The Jeep’s wipers beat a losing rhythm that wasn’t enough to keep the window clear. They’d had to stop frequently to clear the clogged wipers.
The charts Kate had checked on her flight to Morocco had indicated the local weather had been unpredictable for the last few weeks. Now, that same unpredictability, the unseasonal and unusual rain, was making for slow going, and the abnormally cool daytime temperature wasn’t helping.
“You’re okay?” he asked. His hand ran along her wrist and the heat that ran through her at his touch made her shiver.
“Fine.” She nodded, pulling her hand free and pushing a strand of hair back. It didn’t help. Her nerves were on edge—and not because of the assignment but because of his nearness, because of what he made her feel. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be and yet that awareness had been between them from the beginning.
The Jeep rocked as Emir made a slight turn to the right, adjusting for the ridges in the sand and the breeze that was now a buffeting wind. The vehicle slid as the tires kicked up sand chewed out of the ruts it was creating.
Her finger was on the map, marking where they were and where they were going. The journey had been slow. They’d had to adjust their direction a number of times. She reached for the grab bar with her right hand as the Jeep’s back tires spun and for a moment it seemed like they might get stuck in the middle of nowhere.
She looked at the compass. They were going by latitude and longitude. It was a get-back-to-basics way to travel. Even the Jeep was basic, built for this type of expedition without tracking or mapping. It reminded her how easy Google Maps had made everything.
She glanced at Emir and saw the brutal way he clasped the vehicle’s steering wheel, as if it were someone’s neck.
They drove in silence and yet with the promise of hope between them.
The landscape began to change as another hour ticked by. Now the flat sand and occasional rolling dunes had become steeper and were framed by larger ridges that signaled imminent foothills. The rain was gone and the desert looked like it always had—clearly, like there’d been no rain in months.
“We’re getting close,” Kate said. “Maybe twenty miles from El Dewar.” So far they’d made poor time, a combination of both the terrain and the weather. “No one knows the desert like the Berbers,” she added as Emir navigated a small dune. “Hopefully they know something more at El Dewar that can add to what we learned at Kaher.”
“I’m betting that it won’t be so much a matter of them knowing but of them telling us,” he said.
The side windows were closed but still the sand seemed to seep in. She pulled a tissue from the packet on the dash and wiped the corners of her eyes.
His hands tightened on the wheel as the front tires began to dig into the sand. He turned to the right and she knew he was hoping to veer out of the rut before they got stuck.
The consistency of the sand was subject to change and dependent on so many things. In an odd way, like snow. It would take all his focus to drive and navigate the unstable conditions. The desert was a challenge to drive at any time and now, with worry, little sleep and what might be a brewing storm, it was even more so.
She was relieved as the vehicle again gained traction, but ahead of them was a new difficulty. A tall bank of sand dunes stretched out on either side, with no end in sight, and blocked much of the horizon.
“In my youth we used to drive the dunes for fun,” he said, looking at her with concern. “We were lucky.” Minutes later his mouth tightened as he looked ahead.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asked and frowned at the dunes. “Can we go around?”
“Possibly,” he said. “But that could set us back hours.”
“Not an option.”
“I agree, but these dunes aren’t going to be a cakewalk,” he said. “They’re whaleback dunes.”
They both knew what that meant. Whaleback dunes were dunes whose front incline was hard from being buffeted by the wind. It was the back half that could pose a problem. Depending on the direction of the wind, the sand could be crumbly and difficult to navigate.
He glanced at her. “You ready to do this?”
“I’ve been in since the beginning,” she said simply.
And with a slight smile that was more a tightening of his full lips, he slowed the Jeep. “When we reach them, watch the horizon, if it seems quite sharp at the top, then we have problems on the other side,” he said.
And she knew he meant there was the possibility of soft sand, softer than they had traveled through, and the type that could easily cause a rollover. The hope was that the sand on the other side of the dune was hard. Based on the way the wind had been buffeting them, she was sure they had a good chance of getting the latter.
He squeezed her hand and she looked down, aware of how large his hands were and, despite the gentle touch, how strong.
She pulled her hand from beneath his when all she wanted to do was to fold into his arms. There was no time for such thoughts. She forced her mind to the moment, to the challenge ahead of them.
“Let’s do this,” she said as if there was some chance that he wouldn’t. “I’m fine,” she added at the look of concern he gave her.
“You’re more than fine,” he said, turning his attention to the bank of dunes.
They eased over the