Page 89 of Rescuing You

“Married?” Again, his voice rose. “Married to whom?”

Waleed’s face filled her vision, that hungry smile. “It doesn’t matter now. I would have died before I married him.”

By the look on Michael’s face, it did matter—very much.

“I am here and alive,” she said. “And not married.”

He nodded, one quick dip of his head. “Go on.”

“The room next to mine was an office, and there was a map on the desk. Of Munich. I thought maybe it was what they used to track me down, but there were things circled. Intersections downtown, in the business district.”

The hotel where she’d worked and lived was farther north, on the opposite side of the river.

Michael became very still beside her. His face blanked, but in his eyes, she saw something she didn’t recognize.

Something…frightening.

“Do you remember what intersections?” he finally asked.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the map in her head. She’d seen the park and the river, a few of the street names. “I only looked at it for a second.”

He must have heard something in her voice because he asked, “But?”

“Maybe, if I saw another map, I could remember.” She slipped her hand out of his to reach for his phone, but he slid his fingers around her wrist.

“Not right now. We’ll get a paper map, one similar to what you were looking at. I think your memory might be more accurate that way. If you try to look at the map on that tiny screen, I’m afraid you’ll contaminate the memory.”

“Is it important?”

“It might be. It might be very important.”

A chill that matched his tone dripped down her spine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Michael limped along the walkway between the park and the coastline, shopping bags looped over one arm, the other hand leaning on a cane.

While annoying, the pebble in his shoe made the limp realistic and consistent. The cane added to the deception.

The makeup he wore—and the gray hair beneath a beat-up fishing cap—didn’t hurt.

To all the world, he looked like an old man. In fact, he looked like his grandfather, albeit about four inches too tall.

Nobody gave him a second glance.

He’d been to the resort town of Antalya once before, though he hadn’t had time to linger then either. This was one place he wouldn’t mind staying awhile. The coastal city in Turkey was as beautiful as any Greek tourist spot he’d ever seen. Lush, green landscape rolling to meet the deep, deep blue of the Mediterranean. Mountains rose on the western horizon beyond the water, adding depth to the breathtaking view.

It was a clear, sunny day, surprisingly warm for October and more humid than Michael had anticipated. Though there were no clouds on the horizon, he inhaled the faintest scent of rain and wondered if there was a storm somewhere off the coast, just out of sight.

People wandered past in all manner of clothing—jeans, shorts, T-shirts. Some women wore abayas and hijabs, some men keffiyehs. But most seemed to be European tourists.

Hardly anyone gave the stooped old man a second glance.

After driving all night and most of the day, Michael, Leila, and Jasmine had arrived the afternoon before. They’d checked into adjoining rooms in a mid-priced hotel and had dinner delivered. The sisters had retired early, though he’d heard them talking quietly for an hour or so through the slightly ajar door.

Now that they had some time alone together where they were safe, he hoped Leila could get some answers about her sister’s condition.

In the privacy of his room, he'd opened the laptop he stole from the terrorist’s car. Locked, of course. He couldn’t get past the password.