- AHMED -

I was still as a statue as Sam and Steven disappeared under the shroud of the night darkness. Silence, stillness, pure and utter emptiness drifted all around. I drew breaths against the bereft heaviness that seemed to weigh on me endlessly as I sat in the backseat of Sam's car.

The leather sank beneath me, content with being displaced, with cushioning the load of my uneasiness as my eyes glanced back and forth, left to right. I was terrified to move and yet horrified to stay still—ice cold and sweating all at once.

I exhaled another breath, just as the sound of a nightmarish, screeching cry erupted with fright and ripped through the spooky silence surrounding me.

I gasped, jumped in terror at the agonizing wail, collapsing to the seat as fear gripped me from all sides.

Anna...that must've been Anna, I thought, trembling.

I sat numb, covering my head with both hands as I ducked against the seat cushions. And if Anna's in danger...then Sam, Steven—

I shut my eyes, shook my head. I have to wait for Prudence. She's almost here, and she'll know what to do. I looked up to peek out either back-seat window, hoping Prudence or Charity or some police officer would be standing there, staring back at me with courage, assurance, something—but there was no one, nothing but the darkly imposing figures of trees shadowed by nighttime gloom.

Steven and Sam can do this, I tried to convince myself. They're big guys; there's no way Lane or Alice could—

Another scream, this time deeper.

Sam! I felt my heart jump inside my chest.

My teeth were chattering together, my arms and legs unbearably cold as wintry chills breezed beyond the car's unlocked doors.

I can't...

I gulped hard, wrapped myself in my arms.

But they could...die...

More shivers.

More shaking.

I felt ashamed for being so scared—but how could I be anything else? How could I? I'd never been so afraid in my life, never so close to death, never so unsure of anything...

That's not true, echoed a still, small whisper inside my head.

I gasped. "Wh-who said that?"

You've faced fear that's greater—and you've overcome it.

I swallowed, felt my throat spasm as a surge of memories rushed to my brain—

Mornings of rest and awakening Fajr, daily pronouncements of willing gratitude, sunset-striped evenings of sweat and basketball, warm meals of pure joy and infinite laughter, bedtime tales of people far away so unlike myself, a knock at the door of my home...my heart—a little black Book claiming words of life?

I shuddered.

There was fear, yet you refused it.

I felt my lips as they began to quiver, my eyes as they welled with tears.

"God," I begged. "I can't d—"

But you can.

I froze.

Could it be?

Shuddering, my arm reached for the door.

Click!

I unlocked, I opened, I stepped out.

"I can," I breathed tenuously into the night. "I can." I clenched my fists, then broke into a sprint.

The hazy obsidian air seemed to melt away the further I ran. In seconds, I was approaching the front of the lake house, where the door stood ajar and shook with the wind.

I hurried inside, felt pitch black surround me.

"Steven?" I whispered. "Sam?"

I felt my way around in the dark, searching for a wall, a switch, anything that could help me orient myself.

"Ah-Ahmed," came a weak murmur.

"Sam!?" I whirled in the blackness. "Sam, where are you? I can't see—"

"O-over here," his voice dragged.

I stepped slowly ahead before remembering my phone. My hand dove into my pocket to retrieve it, and I clicked on the flashlight.

Brightness burst before my eyes, illuminating the figure of Sam Irish where he lay several feet in front of me. He gripped his left arm tightly with his right hand, and pulses of blood pumped from between his fingers as he tried his best to plug the jagged gash pouring dark liquid onto the wooded flooring.

"Sam!" I screamed. "Oh my gosh! What happened!?"

"It was...someone attacked me, or...I don't know, just...Ow!" He rolled to the side, groaning in pain. "Call Prudence!" he ordered.

"Right." I nodded hurriedly, navigating to her name in my contacts.

She answered at the first ring, and I put her on speaker. "Where are you!?" she screamed.

"Mrs. Darrow, I—"

"I'm outside the lake house," she barked. "But all I see is an empty vehicle. Are you and the others inside?"

"Yeah, w-we are," I sputtered. "And Sam's been hurt."

"What about Steven? Where is he!?"

I turned to Sam.

"I—I don't know," his agonized muttering came out more like pleading. "He ran up the stairs when we heard a scream. Then the next thing I knew, somebody swung a hacksaw into my arm and whacked me in the head."

"Did you see where she went?" Prudence's voice echoed as she rushed to the lake house's front door and darted inside.

"Upstairs," Sam breathed, staring up at Prudence as she pressed End Call then drew a pistol.

"Can you stand?" Prudence asked him.

Sam grimaced, gripping his left arm even tighter as he tentatively curled his legs underneath himself, then stood to his feet. "Yeah," he breathed. "I'm fine."

I ran to a couch situated next to a window; atop the cushions rested a thick, folded blanket. I ripped away a length of the cloth and hurried back to Sam. "Here," I offered. "Tie it off with this."

He wrapped the fabric around his arm, twisting its ends together in a knot. "Thanks, Ahmed."

Prudence nodded at me. "Good thinking."

I nodded. "Should we call a doctor? That blanket can only hold for so long, and—"

"No, there's no time," Sam cut in. "I'll be okay. And every second we wait here is another second Anna and Steven are in danger."

Prudence stared Sam straight in the eyes. "You sure you're good to keep g—"

"Didn't I just say I was fine!?" he blurted, screaming.

I took a step back.

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry." He drew his hand to his head, then inhaled another deep breath. "Look, guys, I'm just really freaked out, okay? Whoever's doing this is merciless. For all we know, Steven might already be dead...and if this really is Lane...?"

Prudence shook her head. "Sam, this is no time to get emotional. We're dealing with a cold-blooded killer."

"She was twelve, Prudence," Sam's voice was begging. "She was in seventh grade, and Marcus raped her!"

"And now," Prudence eyed him evenly, "thanks to what Landon confessed to Charity and all of those files Steven and Ahmed found, we have a solid case against him. But we have to catch this killer if we have any hope of bringing Marcus Hall to justice."

Sam's eyes fell.

"So I'm going to ask you one more time—are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

Sam nodded slowly. "I can take care of myself. Let's just go upstairs and figure out what happened to Steven and Anna."

"Very well." Prudence led the way, taking light steps up the staircase and holding her pistol close to her chest.

Sam and I tiptoed behind her, making as little noise as possible until we arrived at the top of the stairs.

"Keep your eyes open," Prudence ordered.

I drew closer to Sam, moving in step with him as Prudence shuffled quietly ahead of us. When she made it to next-to-last door at the end of the hallway, the only door behind which pale light shone, Prudence paused.

She shot a knowing glance at us, then kicked the door wide and sprang into the room, waving her gun. "Freeze!" she screamed. "Nobody mov—" she stopped midsentence. "What on earth?"

Sam ran inside after her, and I followed him nervously.

"There's no way," I breathed, felt my whole body shaking.

"Is that...C-Cam?"

In front of us, a corpse was propped on a stripped mattress at the center of the room. Its arms were tied with braided ropes to the wooden bedframe, and its chest was carved and crusted with dark, browning scars. Each leg was dotted with drops of caked blood, and more dried bits crumbled under...what? Are those eyeballs!?

But perhaps most alarming of all was the freshly red flow of pulsing liquid that spewed in surging waves; the body must have been killed recently and the brutal remains left behind, for its throat still squirted bloody streams—and its head was missing.

"S-someone," I began, shaking, "Someone ch-chopped Cam's head off...?" I turned to Prudence, then to Sam, my eyes growing wider with each passing moment. I swallowed back the scream tugging at my throat.

"I'm calling my husband," Prudence breathed. "And the two of you are coming with me, back to the station."

"What? No way!" Sam protested. "We're not gonna just—"

"It isn't up for debate," Prudence stepped closer to him, her finger still decidedly arched across her pistol's trigger as she held it high. "It's too dangerous, and neither of you are suspects anymore. We're going to the station; you'll be safe there."

Sam angrily sighed as he glared back at her. "Fine. I'll go."

"Good." Prudence lowered her weapon. "Now that that's out of the way, let's get a move on." She glanced at me quickly, then back at Sam.

We both turned and headed for the stairs, and Prudence followed. We descended the steps in a matter of seconds, then rushed through the front door, back out into the night. Prudence lifted her cell from her pocket and dialed Deputy Commissioner Darrow.

"Prudence, where are they?" he demanded when he answered her call.

"Steven's missing," Prudence barked back frenziedly. "And I just found his brother's headless corpse in the family lake house. I've secured Sam and Ahmed, but Sam's injured."

"Bring the boys to the station. I'm dispatching a unit to Lake Deliver."

"On it." Prudence clicked End Call and turned to me and Sam. By this point, the three of us had made it back to where our cars were parked, and Sam and I were staring uneasily at Prudence.

She sighed. "Alright, just so we're clear: you two're following me back to the police station, and we're getting some cops out here to case the place."

Sam cocked his head back. "Well, what about Lane? If you and your husband are sending cops out here to look for clues, who's looking for her?"

"We're taking care of it, Sam," Prudence answered, "Trust me. Whoever's doing this—we're going to figure it out. But I need to make sure that both of you are safe."

Sam bowed his head. "Okay," he answered tentatively. "Show us the way."