21 SAM
As I walked toward my door under the officer's watchful eye, I did my best to ignore the weight of Connor's gun at my ankle—even though ignoring cold metal against my skin felt impossible. Throw in a thick envelope stuffed in my waistband and a cat in my arms, and you've got Robocop in a bra.
“Thank you, officer,” I said, stopping at my front door and hoping he'd leave. I was terrified that lifting my leg to climb the stairs would give me away at the last minute.
When he left, I set Lynx down and bent to remove the contraption. We hurried up the stairs.
I put the gun and the envelope on the table and headed to the bathroom. I was still covered in Mr. Omar's blood.
I threw my clothes in the trash. I was never wearing them again.
“My God,” I groaned as the water hit the back of my neck and ran down my torso, washing everything away. Rust-colored streams formed everywhere, and the shower floor grew redder by the second. Hot water ran down my face, and I tasted salt on my lips.
The tears came harder and harder, and I let them flow. Lynx watched me from the pile of clothes Connor had left on the floor.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered, remembering the lifeless body in front of me. The memory of his agony as he tried to tell me something made my stomach churn.
Omar clutching my arm, begging me to understand.
“Hazel,” I repeated to myself. The name wasn't unfamiliar. “What the hell did he mean?”
When I stepped out of the bathroom, the apartment glowed orange. I wrapped myself in a towel and went straight to the documents Connor had taken from Mr. Omar's files.
There were records of sales to the same company that had sent the big guy to the antique shop, but nothing mentioning the Khopesh or linking the company to any name we'd seen in the investigation. I made sure to check everything Connor had written down.
The orange tones on the walls gave way to blue, and I turned on the counter lamp when I realized my phone was lighting up the whole room every time I checked the time.
Connor still hadn't come back, and Ahmed wasn't picking up. I was starting to think I'd have to drag Connor out of Ahmed's office myself when the doorknob turned.
“Are you and Ahmed friends now? I thought you two went out drinking together.”
Lynx padded toward the door, but I didn't turn around—I knew he'd give me a death glare. So I kept my eyes on the documents in front of me.
The door opened slowly. A chill raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
Lynx meowed, and my eyes darted to the gun in the holster in front of me.
But I was too clumsy and too slow to grab it in time—I only realized this when a heavy figure slammed into me, yanking me from the chair by the waist. My back hit the floor like an anvil in a cartoon.
I turned and tried to crawl away from whoever it was, but he grabbed my hair and lifted me by it—I'm pretty sure he almost scalped me. I kicked wildly, trying to hit him, but nothing helped.
I tried to grab his head with my hands, but it was covered by some kind of ski mask or hood.
“Let me go!” I screamed, digging my fingers into the fabric covering his head, trying to find a weak spot.
He threw me against the wall, and I felt like one of those sticky toys you throw at a wall—the kind that clings for a second before slowly peeling off.
“If you're a thief, you broke into the poorest house in the neighborhood!” I screamed as he turned toward the counter where the documents—and the gun—sat. My body shuddered, and I grabbed the first thing I could find to throw.
My parents' book—an edition I never opened because I treasured it too much. The first one they'd written together.
“It'll have to do,” I whispered before throwing it. It hit my attacker's head, then the lamp, which shattered and plunged the room into darkness.
I was ready to jump out the window if it would save me. But I didn't make it. The invader grabbed my foot as I leaped onto the bed.
His body loomed over mine, and his fingers wrapped around my throat, immediately cutting off my air. I couldn't scream for help anymore. All I could do was struggle and wait for it to end.
Trying to make him let go, I dug my fingers into his eyes, but the more I fought, the tighter he squeezed, and the more my vision blurred and darkened.
He stayed there, waiting for me to pass out.
Waiting for me to stop fighting while he drained the life from me.
And I gave him what he wanted. I loosened my fingers, let my arms fall to my sides as my body sank into the bed.
My eyes closed, and I blacked out. As if I were just tired… and honestly, I was.
Darkness had swallowed the room when my eyes opened again, and the shadow in the doorway terrified me. Was he waiting to see if I was really dead?
“Sam!” Connor's deep, desperate voice slowed my racing heart. He jumped over the mess on the floor and rushed to me. “Who did this to you?”
He pulled me against him, and I realized I felt more than just our clothes between us. I felt my breast brush against his skin, his hands covering my bare back.
“Connor, I…” I tried to warn him before he looked at me, but it was too late. His eyes dropped to check if I was hurt and found my breasts inconveniently rigid and pointing right at him.
The moonlight let me see his eyes, and the reflection seemed to make his beard glow as he opened and closed his mouth several times without making a sound.
I pulled the pillow to my chest and he finally let me go, immediately retreating to the far corner of the room.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, facing the wall. “I didn’t see that… Are you hurt?”
“You can turn around,” I said as soon as I grabbed the sheet to cover myself.
He helped me sit up.
“I don’t really know what hit me,” I said, running my fingers over my sore neck. “I was working here when I heard the door open. I thought it was you, and suddenly I was pinned to the floor with some brute on top of me.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“No. He had something covering his head,” I replied as the apartment lights came on.
“Did he ask for anything?”
“No,” I said, staring at Connor, whose eyes had gone dark. “All he did was try to unlive me and… damn, damn, damn.”
“What?”
“He took them,” I said, standing up and wrapping the sheet around my body as I went to the counter. “He took the papers. They were right here.”
I rummaged through the messy piles of paper on the counter.
“The bastard took everything!” I slammed my hand on the counter. “I can’t believe this is happening. Where’s Lynx?”
“The weird cat?”
Lynx meowed from the bathroom, and I opened the door to let her out.
On my way back to the kitchen, frustration drained what little energy I’d recovered after nearly dying, and I had to grip the counter tight to keep from falling.
“Hey, hey.” Connor’s hands steadied me. “Come here, girl.”
He pulled me close, holding me against his chest. I closed my eyes as the world spun around me. Lynx rubbed against my feet, trying to keep them warm.
“Don’t worry about the stuff. We’ll find another way,” he whispered, adjusting his arms around me.
“But you lost your gun!” I grumbled, pressing my forehead against his chest.
Connor sighed, and I felt the pressure of his chin resting on my head.
“But I didn’t lose you.” I wanted to open my eyes and look into his, to search them for meaning, but I wouldn’t know what to do with what I found. So I just stayed silent, feeling the strength of his arms wrapped around me like a cocoon. “Forgive me for not being here.”
Connor pulled back slightly, making me look at him.
“I would have gotten here sooner, but Ahmed put me in timeout for a few hours before interrogating me,” he said, loosening his hands around my waist, though I was in no hurry to leave.
“Was it bad?” I clutched tighter at the sheet that was slowly sliding down my body toward the floor.
“I actually missed being in an interrogation room,” he said with a smile. “But I prefer sitting on the other side of the table.”
“I imagine Ahmed had fun.”
“Lived out his dream.”
“Interrogating you?”
“Getting me out of your way.” Connor seemed to mean more than just a literal path. I felt my face tingle, and I took a step back.
“Ahmed is a pain in the ass sometimes.” Connor’s eyebrows seemed to disagree with the “sometimes.” “But he’s just overprotective.”
“He’s obsessed with you.”
“Obsessed is a strong word.”
“I think that’s going easy on him,” he shrugged. His eyes traveled from mine to my lips, then to my neck. “That looks bad.”
“I thought I was dying,” I said, touching my neck.
“What I can’t figure out is why you’re not.”
“Wow, thanks,” I said, pretending to be offended.
“You know what I mean,” he said, rolling his eyes as he moved to the kitchen, where he gathered some of the remaining papers. I spotted my parents’ book in the corner of the room and bent down to pick it up. The spine was damaged, but overall it had held up well.
“I think this fell out of it,” Connor said, bending down in front of me and picking up a piece of paper with handwriting on it.
“What’s that?” I asked, staring at the aged paper. There were some random numbers written on it. “Must be a page marker. My parents gave a lot of lectures.”
“Probably,” he said, walking over to our newly started board. It had fallen, and most of the clues were compromised—torn, or worse, missing.
“My board,” I groaned, moving closer to see the damage.
“Whoever it was wanted to make sure they’d set us back a few days.”
“The guy who attacked me could be the big guy from the shop.” Flashes of memory came back to me. “But there’s no way to confirm.”
“He made sure of that,” Connor said. “But if your theory is right, I think we have an answer.”
“Which is?”
“That we’re on the right track and it pissed someone off.”
“The problem is we don’t have anything left.”
“Of course we do.” Connor smiled and I was confused. “We have you and your memory like an elephant.”
Connor picked up a notebook that had fallen on the floor and looked around the apartment for a pencil or pen. He handed me the blank paper.
“Write down everything you remember while I take a shower.” He looked at himself and I noticed he was still covered in blood. “Think you’re ready to get back to work?”
I took the pen from his hand and smiled at him.
“Always, Detective Gray Hair.” I teased, and he made a face before heading to the bathroom.