34 CONNOR
“How did you find me here?” I grumbled, walking toward my car parked a few yards from the clinic.
“You know how it is being a cop.” Ahmed was leaning against his Mustang, parked right behind mine. “I thought we had an agreement about updates.”
His attention shifted to the folder in my hands.
“Yeah. But I didn’t have any,” I lied, tucking the folder into the car. “What about you?”
“No.” Clearly lying too.
“Nice car.” I looked at the classic American model. “I thought American cops didn’t make much, but look at you with a new ride.”
“It’s not new,” Ahmed replied. “And it’s not even mine. Borrowed it from the impound lot.”
“Hm.” I stuck the key in the door, but before I could open it, Ahmed grabbed the door.
“Are you sure you don’t have anything?”
“I still don’t know where Sam is. If I did, she’d already be home.” Suddenly the radio on Ahmed’s belt crackled, and an officer reported a disturbance at an apartment complex on the other side of town. Routine call—except for the address.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ahmed said, reading my mind. “What’s there? We’d be more efficient if we stopped lying to each other.”
“Okay. You’re right,” I conceded. “While we were investigating the Ammit case, a name came up in the files. A company called BMC. High revenue for a short client list.”
“A front company,” Ahmed concluded.
“Definitely a company doing more than what’s on paper. Half the people on their employee list are either dead, missing, or completely off the grid.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up on them. Get a warrant.”
“Well, there’s an incident at one of their addresses.” I pointed to his radio.
“Let’s go check it out.”
I stared at him, confused.
“Look, I think you’re a damn pain in the ass, and I can’t wait for the day you leave and take all this mess you brought to my city with you.” He held my gaze. “But there’s no one in this place who cares about Sam as much as I do.”
“That’s why you’re not in a squad car… they’re not really looking, are they?”
“They are… but the case isn’t mine,” he said resentfully. “They gave it to some idiot who doesn’t give a damn.”
“She needs the damn police.”
Ahmed sighed.
“You have to understand… Sam… she’s stubborn as hell and pretty reckless. She’s been causing trouble since day one. And some cops don’t like it when someone that small gets in their face.”
I could picture the girl driving the cops crazy, hunting for the answers she wanted.
“It’s just you and me,” he finally said, extending his hand to seal the deal.
“Then that’s how it is.” I accepted his handshake. Ahmed was making a deal with the devil. He just had no idea how deep this could go.
We headed toward the call. My heart burned with the need to find Sam—or any clue that would bring us closer to her.
We tore through the city at full speed. We needed to get there before the cops spooked the girl and she decided to end the show early.
“What were you doing at that address?” Ahmed asked as we parked. “I saw the name on the folder. Who’s at the clinic, and why do you have a folder on him in your car?”
“Cohen Bradan. The Ammit,” I admitted, heading toward the complex entrance.
“The man you were chasing? So who has Sam?” He stopped dead.
“Since we’re being honest,” I turned to face him, “Cohen has two daughters. I have reason to believe both of them are in this complex. But only one of them is the victim.”
“Sam…? You’re saying Sam is the daughter of the guy you almost killed?” Ahmed seemed to be struggling to absorb the information while I just wanted to get into the damn building already.
I huffed.
“Okay. Quick summary.” I took a deep breath. “Cohen is dying. Maybe already dead by now. That’s probably what triggered his daughter to take over for daddy. But she seems to have her own agenda. If Ammit killed for twisted justice, Isis kills for revenge.”
“And what is she trying to avenge?”
“Her own death. Her father’s. Who knows? I don’t know if we’ll have time to ask her.”
“Or she just wants revenge on you.”
“Are we going to rehash how I’m to blame for every evil on Earth, or are we going into the damn complex to save Sam?”
Ahmed didn’t respond, just drew his weapon and started walking. Once inside the complex, I realized it was much larger than I’d expected—full of warehouses under construction, building materials scattered everywhere, and signs of vandalism.
“It’s huge. It’ll take us hours to check everything.”
“We don’t have hours. When I said Cohen was dying, that was putting it mildly,” I explained. “They’ll notify her soon, and I don’t expect her to take it well.”
“Let’s split up. I’ll go this way.” He headed left.
“If you hear a gunshot, it wasn’t me.” I pulled out a pocketknife—the only weapon I had left after mine had been stolen… twice.
“And if you hear one, pray it was mine,” he said before disappearing into the debris.
Despite the daylight, the place was dark, making it hard to navigate. The cops would be here soon, and we were running out of time. I could feel it in my bones.
I moved slowly toward another exit that seemed to lead to the working section of the complex.
The sound of dripping water grew louder as I walked through the pitch-black halls.
Small beams of light from outside filtered through windows nearly covered in paint, breaking up the darkness.
Rodents scurried past me now and then, their sounds sharp in the silence.
In the corner of one room, a staircase led down to a lower floor. I descended slowly, my heartbeat already racing. The tension of waiting to be ambushed was killing me.
Rubble lay everywhere. Half-finished structures. Plastic sheets cordoned off some areas, and creaking wood joined the chorus of strange sounds coming from all directions.
The dripping grew louder—probably from the exposed pipes scattered around.
As I shoved aside a rock blocking my path, I heard something disturb the dirt behind me. I spun around. Nothing.
I pushed deeper into the abandoned construction site, every sense on high alert, scanning for any sign of company.
My muscles tense, my jaw locked. My fingers white-knuckled around the knife handle. I could feel the danger. I could smell it. The air pressing down on me. I just needed to be ready to react when it struck.