Mitchell led us up the stairway to the second floor. He got us settled at a table that was out of the way, then went to work gathering up a series of maps and books for us to study. The library wasn’t busy and it was very quiet. A few people climbed up and down the stairs. A young Asian girl, probably a university student, was the only other person in the map section and she paid us no attention once she got past her initial shock at our appearance.
Mitchell spread out a large map of California. Holding the corners, he studied it, moving his finger down the coastline, passing over one city and then another. He talked about each city as he moved his finger south. San Francisco. Sacramento. L.A. San Diego. He spouted a bunch of facts about each of the cities, but I don’t know if he really knew what he was talking about. He studied the map a few more minutes, then tapped on San Diego. “Here,” he announced. “This will be our new home.”
I looked up to see a man approaching us. He was dressed in casual clothes and I thought he was a visitor to the library who was coming to ask a question. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” I expected him to ask.
But he didn’t. Drawing closer, he pulled out a badge. “I am a homicide detective. I have a few questions for you,” he said to Mitchell.
I thought my heart was going to explode. I turned to him and stared. I started shaking. My head was spinning. I was dizzy with hope and anticipation and gut-wrenching fear. Mitchell’s words started screaming in my head. I’ll kill you and your family. I will cut them with my knife! His threats were the only thing that I could think about, the only thing inside my head.
The officer glanced at me but kept most of his attention on Mitchell. “We’ve received a few phone calls suggesting this girl might be someone who has disappeared. If you could just allow me to remove the veil and see her face, then we can clear this up. That way, if we get any other calls, we can tell them we have already checked you out.”
I felt a surge of joy so powerful I thought that I would cry. I wanted to stand up and run toward the officer. I wanted to jump into his arms. I wanted to rip my veil off and cry upon his shoulders. But I couldn’t! I couldn’t!
But it didn’t matter anyway. He was here. He was strong. He knew what he was doing. He was going to save me now!
I kept my eyes upon the officer. This is it! I thought. Nobody is going to hurt me! No one is going to hurt my family! I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything. I’ve been quiet. I’ve been good. Mitchell has no reason to blame me. It’s over! It’s over! I’m going home!
Then I felt a hand clamp down on my leg, the dirty nails digging into my thigh. It felt as cold and hard and powerful as a metal vise.
Feeling Barzee’s hand upon my leg made my heart stop. It was like I was instantly transported back in time. Every moment, every detail, of the past ten weeks flooded into my mind. The night that I had been kidnapped. Walking up the mountain. The first time that Mitchell raped me. Being chained up. Sitting on the bucket and crying until Mitchell finally screamed at me to stop. Hearing my uncle’s voice calling my name. The helicopter above the trees. Ice-cold water being dumped on my head. Mitchell going down to kidnap my cousin. The taste of beer. The fog of alcohol. The threats against my family or anyone who tried to rescue me. Days of waiting. Days of praying. Months of indoctrination, being told that I came from a wicked and sinful world. Being told my family was paving their own paths to hell. Being told that I should consider myself lucky that I had been chosen to be his wife.
But above all else, I knew the hard grip was Barzee’s way of telling me, It doesn’t matter what you say or don’t say, it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do, if we are captured, we will kill you. We will get you in the end.
Another painful scene unfolded in my head. I flashed back to the first time that I had met her, the image playing in slow motion in my mind. The silver morning sky. The mountain air, heavy with the smell of pine. My red pajamas hanging at my feet. My heart beating like a hummingbird’s. Barzee knew that her husband was about to rape me and yet she didn’t care. She had walked up and put her arms around me, her hot breath against my ear. She had held me like a daughter. She knew that I was not a young woman. She knew that I was just a child! But still, she held me tight. And it was not an embrace of warmth or kindness. It was a wrap of power, its only purpose to instill a sense of dominance.
Reliving these emotions, I was overcome with fear. I will kill you! I’ll kill your family. The words rolled around and around inside my head.
So I lowered my eyes and stared down at the table, never daring to look up at the officer again.
Every particle of my being was on edge. Could the officer protect me from my captors? Could he keep my family safe? I didn’t know. I really didn’t. He was just one guy against an evil man who seemed to have more power of deception than any other man in the world.
“All I’m asking is that you let me see her face,” the homicide officer was saying.