no turning back

• forty three •

elijah

As I sped toward the office building, a knot formed in my stomach. I frowned and mashed my foot harder against the gas pedal. The faster I dealt with this incident at the office, the sooner I could get back to Angel. I would have never left her in the first place, but she was so damn hard to argue with sometimes. Especially when she made promises I couldn't refuse.

Anyway, she was safe there. There had been no more calls from Ammu or threatening incidents. I knew the storm hadn't passed yet, but I saw no immediate danger that would keep me from letting her stay and eat the damn ice cream. The guilt of managing her life so tightly nagged at me more every day, so I tried to be flexible and give her what she wanted when it was reasonable.

Blue and red police lights from multiple cruisers flashed against the front of the building as I pulled up to the curb and climbed out. The last time this shit happened, I was at the train depot and got arrested for murder. I shook off the prickling dread as an officer approached me.

"This is a crime scene, sir," he said. "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"I'm Cyrus Zare," I said. "The owner of the office space that was broken into."

"Oh, right. Come this way." As he led me toward the building, he glanced down at the notepad in his hand. "The lease says 'Raman Zare.'"

My brother's name was still on everything since I didn't want my name to flag the feds. It wasn't like these cops would know he was dead anyway.

"I know," I said. "I go by my middle name."

He nodded and stopped in front of a group of other officers. They all turned and appraised me. I kept my expression neutral, posture alert and strong.

"I was told my office was broken into," I said, "and it was the only one in the entire building. Have you identified a suspect yet?"

An older officer with a bushy gray mustache rubbed a hand across his sweaty forehead. "Security cameras picked up one figure in all-black. They arrived and fled on foot. Didn't appear to take anything with them, but we want you to take a look around and make sure."

I hummed, thoughtful and also annoyed. "And the security guard on shift didn't see them or stop them?"

The older office cleared his throat, his colleagues looking anywhere but at me.

"What?" I snapped.

"He was in the bathroom when the suspect entered the building," said the older officer. "They picked the lock on the side door leading to the stairwell."

So the suspect was familiar with the building. They had either been inside before or knew someone who could give them insight.

"I hope you have informed the head of security," I clipped out. "I will be having a word with them immediately after this."

"Of course, sir."

I sighed. "Let's get this over with then."

We took the elevator up to my office, where I was then shown how the glass door leading into the reception area was shattered. Glass crunched under my shoes as I bent down to inspect the damage.

"How did they do this? What tool was used?" I asked.

"We're not sure, exactly."

I stood and turned to face the two officers who joined me. "Why would they break the glass if they knew how to pick the lock?"

The cops looked at each other, and a bolt of panic reached through my chest. Something about this was wrong. This wasn't some thug. This was a targeted threat. But what did they think I would keep here? There was no money or valuables.