Huda nodded curtly. The Bolt Cutter grumbled and stuck his gun in his pocket. Huda attempted to straighten her clothes. As soon as he left with the ring, she’d climb in the Land Cruiser and drive to the border. Tonight, she and Khalid would be in Jordan. So would Hanan. She could picture it now, clear as sunlight on the lake.

“Hurry up,” she said. “We don’t want the diplomat’s wife raising the alarm.”

“If you say so.” The Bolt Cutter shrugged and turned away from the beach.

A loud crack split the air. The Bolt Cutter jerked backward. He clutched his chest and blood spurted between his fingers. Another crack. Huda shrieked and covered her head. The Bolt Cutter spun 180 degrees and smashed face-first into the dirt, like a tree felled by an ax. Khalid barreled out of the scrub. He sprinted past Huda and shoved an old revolver against the back of the Bolt Cutter’s skull.

“No, Khalid,” screamed Huda. “Don’t!”

The boy’s arm flexed. Another crack. Blood sprayed across the sand. Three more. Then all that remained was rustling wind and a faint click, click, click, as Khalid pulled the trigger again and again.

* * *

Afterward, Huda remembered only snatches: the heat of the gun as she removed it from Khalid’s fingers; how he dropped to his knees and hid his face in his hands; how his heaving back reminded her of Abdul Amir weeping over the dead taxi driver. Huda wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed before Ally and Hanan crept from the scrub, but she remembered that Ally took pains to keep her face averted from the pink fan of blood across the beach.

“Where did he get the gun?” Huda’s anguish echoed across the lake.

“My mom gave it to me when we said goodbye.” Hanan whimpered. “She had it in the closet, wrapped in a scarf.”

Huda silently cursed Rania. Why didn’t she tell her about the gun?

“Hanan, you need to get Khalid back to the Land Cruiser.” Huda barely recognized her own voice. It was as if she’d been possessed by a jinni, as if some other force was moving her lips and operating her limbs. She hauled Khalid to his feet.

“My darling, it’s not your fault.” She gripped his shoulders. “You had no choice. He was going to kill me.”

Khalid stared right through her, eyes as blank as a carp’s. Did he realize she was lying? Or had he learned how to hide the truth, even from himself? Despite her shock, she saw bitter irony bleeding on the shore. She’d done everything she could: lied, stole, blackmailed. Still, she couldn’t outwit fate.