Why was there still a part of him left that wanted to believe her? Was she destined to turn out like this, or had she been pushed? Then why the disappearing family friends before she married? Could that, too, truly have been a coincidence?

Was Yasmin out there, somewhere, still getting tangled up with anyone who would have her? Had Abdul really just had a bad stroke of luck out in River Ouse? Her father-in-law had seemed nice at the wedding … and then they stopped hearing from him. Baba rarely got angry, but he had noticed a tick in his jaw that seemed to build and build each time he checked the mailbox and found naught of what he was looking for.

He’d send Aslan and mind the shop, face the picture of calm even as his fists clenched under the table.

“You know … Baba asked after you, all the time. I … quoted your husband back to him once.”

Aslan took a deep breath through his nose. Remembered, vividly, the jutting of his jugular, the red of his face. Set the knife down in the sink, and turned to face her with his hands resting on the edge of the counter.

“I believed you because I’d seen the murder in his eyes that day.”

He looked to the window, darkness shifting to overcast blue.

“Do you think something else could be your life’s calling at this point?” he asked. “There is important work out there for women, too. Some of them might even … call upon your expertises.”