“How long do you plan on staying out there?”
“Every day but Friday. I’ve got hearings on Friday.”
Alex knew what he was supposed to say next. She was waiting for him to volunteer. He checked his Outlook calendar. It was open Friday. He started typing an appointment.
“Can you cover for me Friday?” Shannon asked.
Alex finished making the entry. “I’m booked all day,” he said.
“Doing what?”
He should have known she wouldn’t give up so easily. “Sermon preparation.”
“Good,” Shannon said. “You can do it out here.”***
Chief Stargell scheduled the press conference for 5 p.m. so the local networks could run it live. Alex and Sylvia watched on a television in the firm’s small conference room.
A woman at the anchor desk said they would be switching to Sandbridge for the press conference, and Alex felt his stomach drop. An announcement from the site of the search could mean only one thing-they had found a body.
Stargell stepped to the microphones with Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney Taj Deegan behind him, just over his left shoulder. Ms. Deegan looked as somber as Stargell. “I will be giving a brief status report about some developments in the case of Ja’dah Mahdi and Martin Burns,” the chief said. “I will not be taking questions.”
He drew a deep breath and faced the reporters. No notes. Weary eyes.
“Approximately an hour and a half ago, at 1535, with the help of state police canine units, we were able to locate the bodies of Ja’dah Mahdi and Martin Burns. The two bodies were buried on a sandy beach on a federal preserve approximately 1.2 miles south of Sandbridge. The site was accessible only by boat.”
The chief paused to survey his audience, seemingly apprehensive about the firestorm his next line would unleash. He set his jaw and continued.
“The head of Mrs. Mahdi was severed from her body in an execution-style killing…” Alex could hear a collective gasp from those in attendance. “Mr. Burns was buried next to her. We have not yet been able to confirm an official cause of death for Mr. Burns, but indications are that Mr. Burns may have been buried alive next to the headless body of Ms. Mahdi. We have requested an expedited autopsy and will fill you in as soon as we have the final results.”
Cameras clicked and Stargell remained stoic. He informed them that he had no hard leads on a suspect. He gave a phone number for people to call with any information. He thanked the reporters and walked away, their shouted questions following him off-camera.
Coverage switched back to the live news desk, where the anchors struggled to put the developments in perspective.
Alex was no longer listening.
A beheading. A live burial.
He dialed Khalid’s cell number. Alex had no long-term plan for his client, but the short-term plan was painfully obvious.
“Lock the doors,” Alex said, “and don’t answer the doorbell. Shut the blinds. Don’t go outside under any circumstances.”
Alex rubbed his temple, a headache spreading like fire over his eyes. Double murder. An honor killing.
And all roads were leading to his client’s mosque.
27
On the third day of Shannon’s stakeout, she hit gold. It was late Wednesday afternoon when the truck went sailing by-a red cab, white trailer, and a colorful array of fruits and vegetables painted on the right side, just as Ghaniyah had remembered. It took Shannon a moment to react, as if a figure from a dream had unexpectedly materialized in front of her. But she snapped out of it, pulled a quick U-turn, and gave chase.
Within a few minutes, she caught the lumbering truck and pulled out her cell phone. While driving-in fact, while tailgating-she put the device in camera mode and took a few shots of the license number. She glanced at the images as she drove. A little blurry and a glare from the front windshield. She definitely couldn’t read the license plate in the photos. She had an answer for that, too, dialing her own number and reciting the numbers into her voice mail.
Then she called Alex, got his voice mail, and remembered his saying something about a court hearing on another case. Her adrenaline was surging- This could be big! -but she felt a little silly at the same time. What am I going to do, make a citizen’s arrest?
She stayed glued behind the truck for about four miles, turning from North Landing onto Centerville Turnpike and eventually onto Kempsville Road. When the truck proceeded through a yellow light, Shannon followed through on red. She checked her rearview mirror.
No cops.
Eventually, the truck pulled into the parking lot of a Farm Fresh grocery store, drove down a side alley, and disappeared somewhere out back. Shannon assumed the driver was making a delivery. She also assumed that it might look a little conspicuous if she followed him.
She parked in front of the store, grabbed her cell phone, and hustled down the alley where the truck had disappeared. She rounded the corner and saw that the driver had backed the truck up to a loading ramp and was in the process of opening the doors.
Shannon whistled. “Dooley! C’mere, boy!” She glanced around, trying to look a little frantic but not too out of control.
“Have you seen a yellow Lab?” she asked the truck driver.
“No, but I just got here.”
The guy was young, maybe midthirties. He had blond curly hair, a good-size paunch, and a couple of days’ growth on his round face. He was wearing a brown uniform.
“He wanders around on me a lot,” Shannon said. “We live right over there.” She pointed to a residential neighborhood that backed up to the shopping center.
“Like I said, I just pulled in.” The guy went back to work, propping the doors open and getting out a hand truck. “If you want to leave me your name and number, I’ll give you a call if I see him.”
Shannon felt in her pockets. “Um, I don’t have a pen.” The driver pulled one out of his pocket, but Shannon had a different idea. “Why don’t you just give me your cell number; I’ll call your phone, and then you’ll have my number.”
The guy paused for a second and looked like he might dismiss the idea. But Shannon gave him her best cute and innocent smile and checked his finger to make sure there was no ring. “I mean, if you don’t want my number in your phone, that’s fine.”
“No. No,” the driver said quickly. “That’s a good way to do it.”
He recited his number for Shannon, who immediately dialed his phone. She walked next to the truck and stuck out her hand. “My name’s Shannon.”
“Jim,” the driver said. Shannon’s call went into voice mail, and she hung up.
Things turned a little awkward. “Well, guess I better keep looking,” Shannon said.
“Yeah. Nice to meet you.”
“Thanks for keeping your eyes open, Jim. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime.”
Just for good measure, Shannon pretended that her phone rang, and she brought it to her ear. “This is Shannon,” she said, turning sideways to Jim. She took a couple of pictures and talked into her phone, waving as she walked away.
“Hold on a second,” she said into the phone. “Thanks again,” she called to Jim, over her shoulder. He smiled and waved.
No wonder people hate lawyers, she thought.***
Twenty minutes later, just before Shannon pulled into the parking lot at the office, she received a call from the Mobassars’ number.
“I left a message with Mr. Madison,” Ghaniyah Mobassar said. Shannon recognized the accent, but there was more emotion in her voice today. “But he has not called back. I am sorry to bother you, but I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s fine,” Shannon said. “In fact, I was just getting ready to call you.”
“They’ve arrested Khalid,” Ghaniyah said, the words rushing out. “And the police are searching my house, tearing everything apart.” Her voice was trembling. “I didn’t know what to do.”