“Um...” She bit her lip. “Yes. My friend.”
“The one you went to the meeting with?” Kiley asked.
Yasdi nodded, that nervous glint back in her eyes.
“What’s his name?”
She didn’t answer but bit her lip again.
“Please answer my question, Ms. Yasdi,” Kiley said.
“Arash. Arash Sidiqi.”
Kiley stood and walked to the opening to the hallway. “Arash. This is FBI Special Agent Kiley Dawson. Come out with your hands where I can see them.”
She pulled out her gun and stepped back.
“Oh ... but...” Yasdi rushed Kiley.
Evan intercepted her. “Stand back, Ms. Yasdi.”
“No! No!” she shouted. “He’s not a criminal.”
A slight man Kiley placed in his early thirties stepped into the room, his hands held out in front of him. His eyes were terrified, his hands shaking. “I am Arash.”
Kiley met his gaze and held it. “My partner will search you for a weapon. Do you understand, Mr. Sidiqi?”
He gave a swift nod. “You are no different from the police of Iran.”
“Iran?” Kiley asked. She gestured toward the wall. “Hands on the wall.”
The man spun and planted his palms on the flowered wallpaper. Kiley stepped back to Evan, his hand on Yasdi’s arm, his stance battle-ready. Kiley didn’t think the woman was a threat and believed Evan was overreacting due to Olin’s death, but she appreciated his backup.
She kept her weapon raised as Evan frisked the man, who was wearing worn baggy jeans and a sloppy gray T-shirt.
“Nothing,” Evan said when he’d finished. “Have a seat in the dining area with your hands on the table where we can see them.”
His teeth gritted, he sat down at the table. Yasdi rushed over to sit next to him and take his hand in hers. “We have done nothing wrong.”
Kiley holstered her weapon but remained standing and kept a firm eye on them. “Then why was Arash hiding?”
The couple shared a tense look.
“My visa has expired,” he answered, lacing his fingers togetheron the tabletop. “My family is Afghan, but we were expelled from Iran. I made my way here and am seeking a better life, but I have faced much prejudice and have been unable to keep a job.”
“He is an old family friend, and I’m helping him,” Yasdi explained, her chin raised.
“As in hiding him from authorities,” Evan stated.
She nodded. “And working with a local group to try to get his visa reinstated. That is where we were on Thursday night.”
“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”
“They would likely do so, but I would not ask them,” Sidiqi said. “I do not want to get anyone else into trouble.”
“Wait!” Yasdi cried out. “We went out for dinner afterwards. I have the receipt.” She jumped to her feet and charged to her counter where she dug into a pricey leather handbag. She jerked out her wallet and returned to the table with the receipt.
Kiley studied the receipt, then took a picture of it. “This only proves you bought dinner, not that Sidiqi was with you.”
