Malik Idris

I knocked on the door to Sajdaa's home. Sajdaa tensed behind me as a man opened the door. He was young and about my age. He had a strong jaw that clenched at the sight of me. I could see the similarities between Sajdaa and him. His eyes narrowed at me.

"Who are you?" he asked.

I took out my police ID. "I'm Officer Malik. I need to talk to Miss Taha's guardians," I demanded in an authoritative voice.

I didn't have time for an overprotective brother stopping this investigation. Sajdaa's safety was my first priority. After seeing Dylan's body, Nathan and I concluded that it was a serial killer. Sajdaa obviously was on the killer's most wanted list, which meant we had to protect her.

I couldn't figure out what Sajdaa had done in the past to have irked such a dangerous person to attempt to kill her. Fucking hell, she was only seventeen years old. There isn't much she could have done in her seventeen years of existence.

Sajdaa's brother moved away from the door to let us in. As Sajdaa walked through the door, her brother grabbed her arm to whisper in her ear. Sajdaa's face was impassive as she nodded. Sajdaa disappeared somewhere in the house, leaving me alone with her brother. His dark brown eyes examined me. I kept my expression stern as I took a seat across from him.

"I'm Ridwan, Sajdaa's older brother," he offered a hand to me.

I shook hands with him before speaking. "I'm sure you are aware that Sajdaa was taken from school and into police custody."

He frowned, "My sister isn't a criminal-"

"Believe me, sir, I know," I chuckled. "She was only there for interrogation because her classmate went missing."

He raised his brows at me. "Why does that mean Sajdaa has to be in question?"

"I'm sure you're aware of the notes she has been getting."

"Oh you mean how you police officers didn't take it seriously?" he snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Sir, insulting the police department is not in your best interest."

"My best interest," he emphasized, "is the protection of my little sister. If the police force are incapable of that then I'm going to make them regret ever doubting Sajdaa."

"Is that a threat?" I glared.

Sajdaa's older brother was beginning to get on my nerves. I understood his concern, but it was a major insult to the police force to be told that we were incapable of protecting a seventeen year old. I would never let any harm come to her. I would never be able to live with myself.

Ridwan opened his mouth, but closed it as the door opened. An elderly man, who looked like he was in his fifties, came through the door. His eyes widened as he saw my police uniform. Instantly, with a hand gripping the doorknob, he desperately looked at his son.

"Where is Sajdaa?" he asked.

Ridwan waved his father off. "With Mom."

The man let out a breath of relief before mumbling, "Alhamdulillah (thanks to God), she's okay."

I felt myself stiffened at the name 'Allah.' I was not a completely oblivious to Muslim culture. I had grown up in a very strict religious family, but that was a long time ago. That was before my family was taken from me.

The elderly man, who I assumed was Sajdaa's father, sat next to Ridwan. He had a long black beard with graying strand in it. His hair was short and mostly black. There were wrinkles near his eyes and the corner of his lips, probably smile lines.

I could see some resemblance with Sajdaa, but she was so different from her family. Her features were delicate and gentle. She was enchantingly beautiful. She shared her father's eyes and nose, but not her lips.

Her father smiled. How can he smile when I come as a bearer of bad news? "Ridwan, go bring our guest some refreshments and snacks," he softly told his son.

Ridwan reluctantly obeyed his father's order. He gave me one last glare before walking off. I turned my attention back to Sajdaa's father, who kept his warm smile on his face. I felt myself shift uncomfortably in my seat. I couldn't tell if he was faking being nice to me or if he was just genuinely a nice person.

"Officer, please don't be so tense in my household," he chuckled. "It makes me feel like a terrible host."

Ridwan came into the room with a tray of cookies and milk. He placed the tray on the coffee table in front of me and sat next to his father. He gestured to the cookies with his hand.

"Take one," said Ridwan.

I shook my head. "Sir, this is very unnecessary," I declined with a tight smile.

Sajdaa's father stood up and handed me a plate and a cup of milk. "Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You are our guest. Please do take some food."

"Thank you," I said as I reluctantly took the plate and cup.

Were all Muslims this kind? I couldn't remember the last time I met a Muslim family that didn't try to kill me. Then again, I was biased since I came from Syria and I was in the depths of terror group territory.

Dark memories entered my mind and I instantly shook them away. Sajdaa was the first Muslim I had really gotten to know since then. I had ignored most people in the Muslim community because I couldn't even get myself to look at them without the trauma I endured coming back to me.

"So, Officer, what did you come to tell us?" asked her father. He smiled encouragingly at me.

I cleared my throat. Here goes nothing. "I think your daughter's life is in danger," I stated.

Slowly, her father's face broke into a frown. Distress etched onto the fine lines of his forehead. His dark brown skin seemed to be glistening with sweat as my words registered in his mind. I could see the gears turning in his mind, his expression changing from shock to disbelief.

"What?"

"From the most recent death, we have confirmed that your brother-in-law's murder was committed by the same person. Your brother-in-law was the first victim that we know of," I said in a monotone voice. It was never easy breaking news from an investigation to grieving family members. "Sajdaa has been receiving notes from the killer for reasons that we do not know of. For some reason, it seems that your daughter is the most targeted for the killer."

"Is there anything that you know about the identity of the killer?" asked her father.

Ridwan leaned closer, eagerly waiting for my response.

"Nothing beneficial except that he is left-handed and a footprint found from the recent crime scene," I sighed.

Her father and Ridwan exchanged glances with one another. It was as if they were speaking with their eyes. Ridwan's expression changed to fury. His father's stayed the same.

He spoke in a foreign language to which Ridwan harshly responded to. With a reprimanding look from his father, Ridwan let out a defeated sigh.

"I'd like to offer my help to the police force," he said quietly, without looking at me.

I raised a brow. "Come again?"

"I know a guy who could help you guys out."

From the look on Sajdaa's father's face and Ridwan's annoyed expression, I knew that whoever this guy was, it was not a person I'd enjoy working with.

Assalamualaikum guys!

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