The Language of Secrets by Ausma Zehanat Khan Page A

Bishop Strachan girls’ school together, and they still passed most free weekends in each other’s company.
    Misbah was the afterthought, the late addition to the family, amiable and innocent, indulged and then forgotten by both her older siblings. Left to her own devices, Misbah had chosen to pursue a career in international development studies. Ruksh was the only one of the three siblings to follow the well-traveled family footsteps into medicine. She was bright and impatient, possessed of an overweening ambition.
    â€œDon’t dismiss Misbah like a child. She can think for herself.”
    As was so often the case, Esa saw that his interaction with Ruksh was destined to be fractious. He nodded at Misbah, knowing which of her siblings Misbah would choose to obey.
    She shut the door to their mother’s room, unaccustomed to making demands of them.
    Khattak moved to the bed, capturing the slippery red silk between his fingers.
    â€œWhat is this, Ruksh?”
    â€œWhy ask if you know the answer?” She was already angry, and Khattak had been in the room less than five minutes.
    â€œBecause I’d like to know it from you.”
    â€œI’m not one of your suspects, Esa. You don’t get to trick me into a confession.”
    Khattak pushed the fabrics aside, making a space for himself on the bed.
    Weighing his words, he asked her, “Do you have anything you need to confess?”
    A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth. With her arms crossed in front of her, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, his sister reminded him of the much younger Ruksh who would follow him and Nate around, getting into scrapes that required his intercession without damaging her pride. A wave of tenderness washed over him.
    â€œThese look like wedding fabrics,” he said, wishing he could let Ruksh tell him in her own time. “Have you met someone? Are you thinking of getting married?”
    â€œHave you been spying on me?” she asked at once.
    And how could he answer that?
    I haven’t been, but you’re caught up in an antiterrorism investigation. Do you know anything about that?
    Coale had warned him that Ruksh was under surveillance. Whether that meant electronic surveillance of the Khattak home, or of Ruksh’s phone calls and daily routine, he couldn’t be certain. And Coale would take a specific perverse pleasure in denying him access to that information on national security grounds.
    He wasn’t spying on his sister. He had never thought to spy on her. It was Ashkouri he needed to watch, Ashkouri whose motives could only be sinister
    But Ruksh would have no idea of this. Her reluctance to confide in Esa was based on her first failed engagement.
    â€œI’m not spying on you, Ruksh. But if you’re thinking of getting married, that’s obviously of interest to me.”
    â€œNo.” She shook her head. “You’re not acting like my brother, you’re using your detective voice. And I don’t need Inspector Esa Khattak in this room.”
    She pushed a bolt of lavender silk away from her. It slid from the bed to the floor. When Khattak moved to recapture it, she blocked his attempt to help. He reached for his sister’s hand and held it, turning it palm up.
    â€œWhat is it, Ruksh? Why are you so angry? Shouldn’t this be a time of happiness for you?”
    She jerked her hand away.
    â€œAs if you don’t know. As if you don’t remember what you did.”
    Khattak stood up. He rubbed a hand across his brow in a gesture that Ruksh imitated without realizing she was doing so.
    â€œWould you have preferred to remain in ignorance? Wouldn’t you have blamed me more if I had let you marry a man in love with someone else?”
    Ruksh had been twenty-two the first time she had decided, on impulse, to marry a man she had met at school.
    He’d shared the same background, faith, and culture. He’d also been dating an