“What if it were Melanie?”
Alexander swung his eyes toward Landon. “We don’t have those sorts of customs here, so she’ll never be in that position.”
“True.” Landon shrugged. “But domestic violence is a big problem. What if Melanie’s in an abusive relationship when she’s older? What if you’re not there to keep her safe? What if she seeks safety in a women’s shelter, but it’s not enough? Wouldn’t you want someone to help her?”
Alexander drew in a breath, his eyes catching a framed photo of Melanie on one of the accent tables in the sitting area. His stomach churned at the thought of anyone harming her. He would fight for her, would do anything he could to keep her safe, would make anyone who hurt her suffer. But this was different. This was bigger. Landon was asking him to put his company’s reputation on the line to help a handful of women. Alexander employed over a thousand people around the world. What would happen to their families if the company folded over his momentary lapse in judgment?
“Landon, you know I love you like a brother, and I would normally do anything to help you…” He placed his hand on his shoulder, their eyes locking. “But I just can’t this time. I’ll give you anything else you need. More staff. More money to do everything you can to keep those girls safe. But I have over a thousand people’s livelihoods I need to consider. I can’t put this company’s reputation on the line for the sake of a dozen Afghan women.”
A blank expression crossed Landon’s face. Alexander had hoped to see some sort of emotion. He wanted Landon to berate him for being an insensitive prick, for thinking about the bottom line and the numbers in his bank account rather than acting like a decent human being. Instead, he quietly headed toward the door.
“I understand, Alex. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s not our place to interfere.”
Alexander shook his head as Landon walked out, quietly closing the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Present Day
December 20
9:15 AM
ALEXANDER CONTINUED SCANNING THE photos of the women, ghosts of his past, recalling that October day. That was the last time he had seen his friend. Two months later, an explosion destroyed the shelter, and Landon’s brutal death was broadcast for all to see. Except for Martin, he never spoke of their conversation to anyone. He had put it all behind him. Even when the Ministry of Women’s Affairs conducted its investigation into the missing girls, Alexander never brought it up. He’d had Martin reach out to his contacts in the intelligence field, wondering if Landon had been able to smuggle the girls out, but he found nothing.
The pieces were all falling into place. After countless attacks on the clinic, Alexander had simply assumed the explosion was a way to return the girls to their families, using Landon’s murder to send a message about trying to interfere with age-old traditions. Perhaps there was more to it. Perhaps someone had figured out what Landon had been able to do, using the explosion to cover his abduction. Over a week passed between his abduction and murder. Alexander imagined he spent that time being tortured, not because of his position in the shelter, but to disclose the girls’ location. Alexander doubted whether he even knew where they had ended up. Landon was smart and probably didn’t want to know for that very reason.
Now, a year later, someone still wanted to find the missing girls. They went after Mischa, thinking she may know something. Rayne was most likely a victim in the whole thing, too. She was distraught and vulnerable, an easy target. They took Melanie as leverage to force him to return the girls his company was charged with keeping safe.
Unfortunately, he was clueless about where they could be. For all he knew, they could be anywhere between here and Afghanistan.
Studying the photos, Alexander knew he couldn’t keep Landon’s secret any longer. Regardless of the potential backlash, he needed to alert the authorities to the situation, starting with his liaison at the Ministry of Women’s Affairs in Afghanistan. He supposed now was as good a time as any to inform her what Landon had apparently done.
“Excuse me,” Alexander said to Moretti, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He wanted to comb through every inch of that house to see if there was a clue as to where Melanie could be, but he had another lead now. If this had to do with a dozen missing girls from Afghanistan, he could narrow the pool of suspects down substantially. With the help from his contacts overseas, he may even find precisely who was behind all of it.
He inhaled a breath of fresh air as he emerged from the house into the cool temperatures. He ignored the media circus and all the nosy onlookers snapping photos as police tried to control the crowd surrounding the house. The sky was gray, the air damp, a few light flurries falling to the ground before disappearing. Everything about the weather said it would only be a few hours until the clouds opened up and covered the city with snow.
Searching through his contacts, he found the one he was looking for, not even checking to see what time it was in Kabul. As it began ringing, he held his breath.
“Mr. Burnham,” an accented voice answered almost immediately, her tone soft and full of compassion. “With everything going on, I didn’t think I’d hear from you.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I got your email. Thank you for thinking of me and my family during this time.”
“Of course. Of course. I was just beside myself when I heard the news. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
Alexander paused, collecting his thoughts. He was walking a fine line. Not only did he need to tell this woman that one of his employees smuggled a dozen women out of her country, women she was charged with keeping safe, but he also needed her help in finding out if any of their family members were angry and resourceful enough to pull something like this off. He prayed she would be able to look past the wrongdoing and help him.
“Actually, Ms. Faraj—”
“How many times have I told you? Call me Aliyah. We’re not as formal as you Americans, it seems.”
“I apologize, Aliyah.”