Nothing came to mind.
When they reached the airport, Sam texted Lazlo to meet him out front. When he walked out the doors, his duffel slung over his back, Sam idled forward, parked at the curb, and pressed the hatchback release.
He got out, retrieved Renee’s crutches as Lazlo walked over, offering to carry her bag into the airport for her.
“It’s not heavy,” she said. “You need to get going.”
Sam gave her a quick hug. “Take care, okay?”
She clasped his arm. “I don’t want to call and tie up your line or Remi’s while you’re in the middle of all this. Let me know as soon as you find them. Please.”
“I will. Hope you get everything straightened out yourself.”
Lazlo dropped his duffel into the cargo area, slammed the tailgate shut, then got in the passenger’s seat. “Selma told me. Have you heard anything?”
“Not yet. We’re heading to the hangar to pick up my gear bag from the jet. If we’re going after these guys, you need a gun.” Sam started to pull out, looking in his rearview mirror, surprised to see a stranger running after them, shouting. He hit the brake, looked again in the rearview, and saw Renee waving one of her crutches at him.
He backed toward her and lowered Lazlo’s window. “What’s wrong?”
She leaned inside the car. “I just received the strangest text from Remi. Hep.”
“Hep?”
“There’s a photo.” She held the phone out showing him an underexposed image on the right-hand side of what he assumed was the inside of the supply shed, with a view out the door to an overexposed image of the courtyard and several people seated on the ground in front of the dorm.
At first glance, it appeared that someone had taken the photo by mistake—and he would have thought exactly that were it not for the ransom demand he’d just received. He enlarged the picture. Though blurry, there was no doubt he was looking at Remi, Amal, and four girls seated next to them.
He double-checked the phone number showing as the sender of the text.
Definitely his wife’s.
But if Remi was being held captive, who had sent the photo?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The brave man is not he who doesn’t feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Nasha gripped the phone in her hand. Getting into it was easy. But working it was an entirely different matter. She had no idea who she’d sent the photo to. Or if they’d even know what it meant. The only other photo she’d ever sent was to Mrs. Fargo and Miss Amal had helped her do it. But when Nasha pressed the button that showed the little white cloud, all she saw was a list of names—and the one at the top was not Sam. It started with an R. Confused, she wondered for a moment if it was Remi spelled wrong. But it couldn’t be because this was Mrs. Fargo’s phone.
She tried to blink away the tears that threatened, worried she’d made a terrible mistake. Suddenly the phone buzzed, the screen lit up, and she saw Mr. Fargo’s face in a small circle near the top. Her fingers shook as she touched the green phone button at the bottom and his picture filled the square like a small movie.
“Nasha?”
She nodded.
“Where are you?”
“In the shed. Miss Wendy rang the bell and everyone got into the tunnel, but Mrs. Fargo went back because some of the girls didn’t come. I didn’t want to leave her, so I hid.”
“You did good. Who’s there?”
“Scarface. He brought a lot of other men. They were looking for all the other girls, but Mrs. Fargo told them they left. Miss Amal is with her, and some of the older girls, but I don’t remember their names.”
“Can you show me?”
“They’ll see me.”
“Not if you stay hidden. Turn the phone so my picture faces out. I’ll see what the phone sees.”
She turned the phone, showing him the inside of the shed.
“Is there a way I can see outside?” he asked.
She pulled aside more of the burlap she’d been hiding under and crept toward the partially open door, careful to avoid the spilled box of nails. She held the phone low, waving it around, before backing toward her hiding spot, afraid to remain too long in the doorway.
“Where’s Remi and the girls? I don’t see them.”
She turned the phone around so that she could see Mr. Fargo’s face again. “I think they moved them to the office.”
“Nasha, do you know how many men there are?”
“A lot. There were two cars. The big white truck and another one. They have the big guns like when they killed the Kalus.” The memory frightened her, but she tried not to cry. “Are you coming back?”
“It’s going to be a while. I’m in Yola. At the airport.”
A tear trailed down her cheek. “I’m scared.”
“Nasha,” he said. “Whatever happens, you stay in the shed. Understand?”
She nodded.
“If they take Remi and the others, she’ll know what to do. Do not let them see you. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m coming for you. Stay—”
The picture turned black. “Mr. Fargo? Are you there?”
Her heart clenched. She was supposed to tell him about the farm and the men waiting there.
Worried, she pulled the burlap over her head, leaving a space big enough for her to see out the door. For the next hour she waited and watched, eventually realizing that these men were just like the Kalu brothers. Because they carried guns, they didn’t seem to care about their surroundings.
One of the bandits passed yet again just a few feet away from her. He had done it over and over. In a moment, he’d walk between the buildings to smoke and talk to another man coming from the opposite direction. They wouldn’t move until they finished smoking. And they’d leave in the same direction every time.
That was something she knew how to work with.
Mr. Fargo had told her to stay put, but she didn’t think she should wait. She looked at the phone screen to make sure that his face was no longer there, worried that he’d try to stop her.
The screen was still black—even when she tried to push the buttons—and she shoved the phone into her pack, then looked out the door, waiting until the man with the gun met up with his friend. As soon as their cigarette smoke drifted into the courtyard, she crept out.