Hushed Confessions | ✔

{27} Connect the Dots

Sajdaa Taha

Alisha and I stood over Ridwan, watching as his fingers typed in more codes, the numbers blurring. Sections and sections of unknowing numbers and letters filled the page, my brother's hungry eyes absorbing it all in. I exchanged glances with Alisha, who looked as confused as I did.

"Ridwan, I doubt this is going to work especially after so many tries," I frowned. "There has to be another way to find him."

A voice cleared behind us, and we all turned to see Dad. "Perhaps, you should track the locations of all the killings," he suggested, handing me a file. "Officer Cole left this for you guys."

I opened the file, skimming through the smiling faces of all the victims. There was nothing suspicious of most of the killings because the bodies were transported to a different location after being tortured. Well, that's just great, I thought. I'm chasing a serial killer that's smart. Why am I not surprised?

I sighed, running a hand down my face. The stress was getting to me, and the ongoing fear of Hamza's life was like a ticking bomb inside my head. At any, second the bomb would blow and I would be left without a little brother. Time was valuable. The more we wasted, the slimmer the chance of Hamza coming out alive was.

Oh Allah, please let him be okay just a while longer. Help me figure out who took him. I can't lose him, Allah. I need my little brother. I need my family.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I gazed into my father's dark brown eyes, glazing with tears. "Don't lose faith," he said softly as he glanced around the room to Alisha, Ridwan, and I. "Those who put their trust in Allah are surely the ones who are never disappointed. Do your part and Allah will do His."

"But will it be in time is the question," I said. "Will we save Hamza in time or just his body?"

The air in the room became thicker, harder to breathe. Weights laid heavily on our shoulders, dragging our weak forms down as we tried to push up. Avalanches of confusion fell, crashing our mentalities, but there was still a part of me that firmly believed that some good would come from this madness.

"In Shaa Allah (if God wills it), we will," stated Ridwan, firm in his belief. "We just have to try our hardest."

Dad wiped under his eyes, gently brushing his tears off. I knew my mother was still in prayer, hoping for a miracle to save her baby boy. She didn't wail or scream, but her body would shake in silent sobs. It had taken a toll on my father because even he looked weary in an effort to care for our family.

He turned to leave, but I stopped him. "Can you help us, Dad?" I asked, gently.

Inhaling a deep breath, he nodded, walking towards Ridwan. A look of determination crossed his face. "Sajdaa, look into the locations," he commanded.

"Our uncle died in his house. It was the least brutal compared to the other victims," I said as I tried to ignore the familiar tremors of my tear glands from looking at my uncle's picture. The killer had stripped my uncle's children from growing up under their father's protection. His wife was stripped of a lifetime of love, raising her children alone in the harsh eyes of society.

"That means there was a personal connection there," mumbled Alisha quietly, the gears in her mind turning while she formulated a theory. She was good at those. "The killer had a personal feud with your uncle, which lead to the killings originally."

Ridwan furrowed his eyebrows. "If it was personal with Uncle then why continue? I'd assume if you kill someone because of a feud, once they're dead, everything gets sorted."

"Unless there is another motive," added Dad.

Alisha nodded, fixing her hijab pins as she spoke. "Didn't you say he targeted Muslims, Christians, and Jewish folks?" she questioned.