Free Kingdom of Strangers by Zoë Ferraris Page A

way.”
    “I see.” Katya tried not to look at their reflections in the mirror. Being locked in a bathroom with a man at work would be enough to get her fired on the spot. She kept wondering how they were going to exit. “So you want me to go to the Chamelle center and ask if she’s been at work.”
    “Yes, but it’s tricky. I’ve never met her coworkers, but she told me that they’re snobs. Also, her visa is expired, and the owner hasn’t officially signed the paperwork to renew it yet, so you have to be really careful not to let them think you’re checking up on visa infractions. It’s best not to go in as a cop. You’re just looking for a friend.”
    “All right,” she said. “I’d be happy to do it, but it’ll have to be later this evening. I don’t leave work until six.”
    “That would be perfect,” he said. He’d been leaning over her in a kind of pushy panic. Now he stood back and exhaled. “It’s probably nothing,” he said. “But I have a bad feeling.”
    Katya nodded. She wanted to ask if he’d tried calling friends, hospitals, but decided it would be condescending. “I’ll go straight after work.”
    “I’ll drive you,” he said. “You’re okay with that?”
    “No, my cousin drives me. He’ll think it’s odd if I’m late, and I’d rather that this didn’t get back to my father. My cousin will be glad to give me a ride to the mall.”
    They exchanged numbers and she promised to call once she learned anything.
    “I’ll go out first,” he said, reaching for the door. “If it’s safe for you to come out, I’ll knock once. If it’s not safe, I’ll distract them. You just keep the door locked.” He slid out before she could protest. A second later, he knocked.
    The brisk way he handled the exit both filled her with admiration and pissed her off. Men didn’t lose their jobs for indiscretion as often as women did. And she doubted, what with all the fear of being caught for this or that, that women were half as indiscreet.

9
    T he first victim was named Amelia Cortez. She was one of the two women whose hands had been found at the gravesite. The medical examiner had determined that she’d been the killer’s first victim, dead now approximately ten years. Forensics had identified her through a fingerprint match.
    Amelia had been twenty-four, and judging by the passport photo that came from the Philippine embassy, she had been lovely—high cheekbones; clear complexion; innocent, light brown eyes. She had been recruited in Manila and promised work as a personal assistant to a high-powered female journalist. Amelia had ambitions to become a writer. But when she arrived in Jeddah, her sponsor, a man named Sonny Esposa, told her that the only work available was as a nanny. She had no choice in the matter. In order to leave the country, she needed Sonny’s permission, and he had taken away her passport.
    She had also signed a contract promising to pay him for his services. The headhunter’s fee was much more than she could afford. She was going to give him a little each month and pay it off that way. Instead of working for six hundred riyals a month, Amelia wound up working for two hundred a month, taking care of five children, all under the age of ten. It would take her six years to repay the headhunter. She couldn’t go to the police; they would only enforce the contract. So Amelia ran away. The people who had hired her complained—they had paid for a year in advance—and Sonny disappeared. No one knew what hadhappened to Amelia, and no one cared enough to find her. Her family in the Philippines sent letters to the consulate, to no avail.
    Ibrahim himself went to interview the family who had employed Cortez. He took Daher and Shaya. They also interviewed the consular officials, who had kept notes on the case but had not filed a police report. The story was the same: the woman had run off. No matter what the employer told you, when a housemaid disappeared, she was usually