“Because”—Kiley locked gazes with the man, and he fidgeted—“you may not be able to commit murder, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hire a killer to end Firuzeh’s life.”
CHAPTER 15
“YOU’RE NOT REALLY LIKINGFlagel for this, are you?” Evan asked after Kiley got the Escalade headed toward Waleed’s headquarters.
She shook her head. “I might’ve had multiple motives for visiting him.”
Evan looked at her. “How’s that?”
“Firuzeh died before she could hold this guy accountable for his prejudice. So it’s possible I wanted to make him squirm for being so mean to her as much as I was doing my job and following up on a lead.”
He’d suspected as much. “You always did have a thing for standing up for the underdog.”
“Yeah.” She suddenly whipped the vehicle into a clothing store parking lot and opened her door. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
She ran for the front door and disappeared inside. Why on earth was she risking not getting to Waleed on time? With the threat hanging over their heads, he knew everything she did was motivated by the investigation, so it had to be important. He took the time to text his MIT friend again. This time he got an immediate promise to call Cam. Evan updated Cam just as Kiley came out of the store carrying a red-and-purple paisley scarf.
In the car, she ripped off the tags dangling from the material. “Thought I should cover my head when we meet with Waleed.”
Evan stowed his phone. “Do you really think that guy cares if you respect his religious beliefs?”
“No, but he claims his messages are religious in nature, and there might be others there whodocare. No point in inciting people if we don’t have to.” She wrapped the scarf around her head, adjusted it around her neck, and pointed the SUV out of the parking lot.
The vehicle hummed through the heavy traffic, and he watched out the window, leaning forward when The Righteous’s red logo appeared on a whitewashed two-story box of a building with a red front door. The headquarters was located in a typical older retail neighborhood with various mom-and-pop stores in worn buildings.
Kiley backed into the first free parallel space down the street. She cut the engine and glanced at him. “I’ll take lead on this interview, but since you know Waleed better, feel free to add any questions you have.”
He nodded, thankful she was letting him play a vital role in their fieldwork when she hadn’t wanted him to accompany her on this trip. He was impressed with her ability to put her personal feelings behind her and do her job.
She got out, and he kept his head on a swivel as he followed her, looking each man in the eye as they passed to see if he recognized any ISIS operatives. At the door to a large meeting room, Evan spotted a sign-in sheet, and Kiley quickly took a picture of the names. They stopped in the back of the room by a literature table filled with IT recruiting materials.
“That’s him at the podium, right?” Kiley whispered.
“Yeah.” Evan shoved his hands in his pockets and took in Waleed’s every detail.
Dressed in a pricey black suit with white shirt open at the neck, he had a broad nose, big eyes, and a thick head of gleaming black hair in a fashionably messy style. His beard was equally dark and close-cropped. He looked like he’d stepped off the cover ofGQ, not like the stereotypical terrorist most people pictured.
The mere sight of the killer standing tall and haughty as he sweet-talked the audience of mostly young people—teens to early twenties, male and female—increased Evan’s urge to pummel the guy. Waleed had the audacity to appear in public, to flaunt his group even when he was fully aware that law enforcement knew the place was a front for ISIS activities.
Though Kiley seemed less agitated than Evan, she still had a sour look on her face. She picked up each of the pamphlets and fliers on the table and glanced at them. A man with a full beard and lifeless gray eyes was seated behind the table and eyed her suspiciously. She simply nodded and pocketed the brochures. Of course, none of Waleed’s literature would have any ties to terrorism, but Evan suspected there were hidden messages in the propaganda, which Waleed explained to individual audience members once they’d reached recruiting stage.
He wrapped up his speech to a standing ovation, and a female minion wearing traditional garb met him with a cup of pink punch from a refreshment table piled high with sweet confections. Waleed moved into the crowd to speak to his audience more personally. Evan snapped covert pictures and planned to run facial recognition to try to match the attendees to the names on the list.
When Waleed said good-bye to the final trio of people, he turned his attention to Kiley. He mocked surprise and ran a hand over his jaw. Evan knew the guy had seen them the minute they walked in and had been waiting for everyone to leave. Wouldn’t do his image any good to engage in a public altercation with law enforcement.
He crossed over to them, his head at a cocky angle. He was nearly the same height as Evan and had a muscular build. His eyes were as black as his hair and likely his personality.
“Let me guess,” he said, his English perfect with no hint of an accent. “Homeland Security.”
“FBI.” Kiley displayed her ID and introduced herself, but Evan didn’t bother to identify himself.
“I was hoping you might answer a few questions for me, Mr. Waleed.” Kiley’s tone was overly polite, and her consideration of this killer grated on Evan’s nerves.
“Of course, Agent Dawson.” He jerked his head at the man still sitting at the literature table, a single flick of his head telling the guy to leave.
Evan didn’t know where the man was going and feared he planned to bring back reinforcements, so Evan moved to a location where he could keep his eye out for any threat to Kiley. No way he’d let anyone hurt her.
She must have perceived a threat too as her gaze sharpened and she rested her hand on her sidearm. “How well did you know Firuzeh Abed?”
