It was like looking up at heaven. Tiny crystal jewels had been embedded in the black stone that lined the domed roof, and the spotlights dotting the circumference were positioned to catch each gem and make them shimmer like stars. Below the ring of spotlights, clinging to the very bottom of the dome, was a band of white writing against a blue background. Harri couldn’t decipher the script, but she got the impression the words were profound. The Arabic letters merged into each other to form the most glorious cursive patterns.
She stood at the very edge of a large balcony with the female members of Sabih Khan’s extended family. Most were weeping, some sobbing quietly, and occasionally there was a lament which Harri couldn’t understand, but whose anguish she shared. Beneath them, the men stood on thick red rugs, their unfurled prayer mats a myriad of colours and designs.
Hundreds had gathered to pay their respects to a fallen member of Stoke’s Pakistani community and the mosque was almost full. Sabih had never spoken of his faith and his alcohol consumption suggested he hadn’t observed it strictly, but it was clear from the grief and reverence of those in attendance that he was held in high regard by the devout. The close male members of his family were clustered around Sabih’s father and uncles. DCI Powell and a group of colleagues from the station were gathered near the back of the mosque. Powell looked uncomfortable as he followed the congregation in the prayer ritual. Harri empathized and felt very much an outsider as she bowed, kneeled and prostrated herself, trying to mimic those around her. She didn’t understand the ritual, but the prayer was a mark of respect and she wanted to do everything she could to honour Sabih.
She kept thinking back to that night, and wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t called out to him. What if she hadn’t intervened to try to stop him beating Ben? Would Elmys be dead, and a good man still be alive? She sobbed at the thought that she was responsible for the suffering of the gathered friends and family. Hundreds of souls traumatized by grief because she’d stopped Sabih. Because she’d involved him in the investigation. Because she’d taken him there that night. The guilt was almost too much to bear, and she shook uncontrollably.
She felt a hand on her back, and looked round to see Amina, Sabih’s twenty-something cousin, smile reassuringly. Her eyes brimmed with sorrow, and there was nothing but anguish in her face, but she was trying to be kind and Harri couldn’t cope with it. She didn’t deserve kindness. She’d played a role in bringing all these people here, and she couldn’t stop crying at the horror of it all. Amina embraced her and tried to soothe away a pain that would leave a permanent scar.
Harri prayed and wept through a disorientating fog of grief. She lost track of time and was consumed by flashbacks of the fateful moment. Guilt and remorse overwhelmed her, and she could find no way to escape them. She was surprised when the imam delivered his final words and left the pulpit. The congregation started to disperse, shaking Harri from her waking nightmare.
‘We’re going to his parents’ house to sit in mourning,’ Amina said. ‘Friends and family come to visit and pay their respects. You’ve welcome to join us. He spoke highly of you.’
The words were like needles. Harri didn’t deserve to be held in high regard by the man she’d failed to protect. She deserved hatred. Punishment. Suffering for what she’d done.
‘I can’t,’ Harri replied. ‘I don’t think I’m strong enough. Please know I have you all in my thoughts, but I can’t.’
‘It’s OK,’ Amina said, gently taking Harri’s hands. ‘I understand. He is with God now. He feels nothing but joy. Our sorrow is not for him, but for ourselves. He is beyond pain. He is in paradise, and his every moment is perfect.’
Fresh tears flowed, and Harri hated herself even more. How could this woman be so strong, when she was so weak? She wished she’d never found that book and never pulled on a thread she had no business unravelling. If she’d listened to Sabih, and left those people alone, he’d still be alive. She hated herself, but she hated Benjamin Elmys more. It was his fault they were all here. She wished she’d never met him.
‘Thank you,’ Harri replied, wiping her tears.
She left Amina with her family and joined the other mourners filing out of the mosque. She followed them downstairs, not really listening to their hushed conversations. When she got outside, Powell was standing on the pavement near the gates, looking lost. She took a deep breath to try to compose herself as she approached.
‘Kealty,’ he said when he saw her. ‘That was rough. Are you OK?’
‘Not really,’ she replied, fighting to control the tremor in her voice.
‘Whatever our past differences . . . well . . .’
She wasn’t in the mood to give him absolution. ‘Have you got any leads?’ Harri asked.
Islamic custom dictated burial within twenty-four hours, but Sabih’s interment had been delayed to allow for an autopsy. Benjamin Elmys and Elliot Asha had been missing for five days.
‘Elmys doesn’t have any real friends. His former colleagues have all been warned about harbouring him,’ Powell replied. ‘And we’re watching the ports.’
‘Just find him,’ Harri said. ‘That’s all that matters now. He has to answer for this.’