Chapter 24, The unseen trail.

Maher stood outside the shuttered headquarters of the now-defunct company, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets to ward off the chill of the early morning air. The building, once bustling with activity, now stood as a hollow shell, its windows dark and its doors sealed with police tape. He glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, before ducking under the tape and slipping inside.

The interior was a mess—desks overturned, papers scattered across the floor, and the faint scent of stale coffee lingering in the air. Maher pulled out his phone and began snapping pictures of everything: the abandoned workstations, the discarded documents, even the faint scuff marks on the floor that suggested a hurried exit. He moved methodically, his sharp eyes catching every detail that might serve as a clue.

As he stepped over a toppled chair, he muttered to himself, "This place reeks of desperation. What were they hiding?" He paused, crouching to examine a crumpled piece of paper. It was a partial invoice, the name of the company smudged but still legible. He snapped a photo and tucked the paper into his pocket. After an hour of searching, he felt he had enough. He slipped back out the way he came, the weight of the investigation heavy on his mind.

The next day, Maher found himself standing in the bustling precinct, his nerves taut as he approached Detective Ziyad, a seasoned investigator with a reputation for being gruff and unapproachable. He was seated at his desk, poring over a stack of case files, when Maher cleared his throat.

"Detective," Maher began, his tone respectful but firm, "I was wondering if you've made any progress on identifying the businessman behind that fake company."

Ziyad looked up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he recognized Maher. "You're that traffic officer, aren't you?" he said, his voice tinged with irritation. "What's your interest in this case?"

Maher straightened, his jaw tightening. "I came across the case during my patrols, and I thought I might be able to help. I've been doing some digging—"

"Digging?" Harris interrupted, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Listen, kid, this isn't some TV drama where you get to play detective. You're a traffic officer. Your job is to direct cars and write tickets, not meddle in investigations that are way above your pay grade."

Maher's fists clenched at his sides, but he kept his voice steady. "With all due respect, Detective, I found some evidence that might be useful. I just thought—"

"What you thought doesn't matter," Ziyad snapped, cutting him off again. "This case is none of your concern. Leave it to the professionals, got it? Now, unless you're here to report a traffic violation, I suggest you get back to your post."

Maher stared at the detective for a moment, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He gave a curt nod, turned on his heel, and walked out of the precinct without another word. As he stepped into the sunlight, he muttered under his breath, "Fine. If they won't take me seriously, I'll figure this out on my own."

With that, he strode down the street, his determination stronger than ever. The case was far from over, and Maher wasn't about to let anyone stand in his way

_____

During the quiet hours of the night shift, Maher found himself driving toward the police station, a small paper bag of doughnuts and two steaming cups of coffee resting on the passenger seat. He had just finished his patrol and was technically on his way home, but something nagged at him—a mix of curiosity and concern. He decided to stop by and check on Ameer, who was pulling a long night shift at the station.

When he arrived, Ameer was seated at his desk, his eyes glued to a computer screen filled with case files. He looked up, surprised but relieved, as Maher approached with a smile and held out the coffee and doughnuts.

"Hey, I was on my way home and thought you would appreciate some coffee ," Maher said, setting the items down on the desk.

Ameer leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. "You're a lifesaver, Maher. I really needed this. It's been a long night."

Maher pulled up a chair and sat down, casually glancing around the nearly empty station. "So, how's it going? Anything interesting happening?"

Ameer took a sip of the coffee and sighed. "Not much. Just the usual paperwork and a few minor cases. Nothing exciting."

Maher leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "What about the fake company investigation? Any updates on that?"

Ameer's expression darkened, and he shook his head. "Not really. Detective Ziyad's been handling most of it, and he's not exactly sharing information with me. He only talks to Sam about it. It's like they're keeping the rest of us in the dark."

Maher raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Sam? Why's Ziyad only working with him? That seems… odd."

Ameer shrugged, clearly frustrated. "I don't know. Ziyad's always been secretive, but this feels different. Like he's hiding something. I tried asking Sam, but he just brushes me off. It's like they're running their own little investigation."

Maher's mind raced. Something about the situation didn't sit right with him. If Ziyad and Sam were keeping the case to themselves, there had to be a reason—and Maher was determined to find out what it was.

The next morning, Maher arrived at the station early, a tiny camera concealed in his hand. He had spent the night preparing it, knowing he needed to act quickly. As he waited near the entrance, he spotted Sam walking in, his usual confident stride in place. Maher pretended to be engrossed in a conversation with Ameer, who was standing nearby.

"Yeah, I'll check on that report later," Maher said loudly, gesturing animatedly as Sam approached. Just as Sam passed by, Maher turned abruptly, bumping into him with a feigned clumsiness.

"Oh, sorry, Sam! Didn't see you there," Maher said, quickly steadying himself.

Sam scowled, brushing off his jacket. "Watch where you're going, Maher," he muttered, clearly annoyed. He didn't even glance back as he walked away, oblivious to the tiny camera now discreetly attached to the collar of his jacket.

Maher exchanged a quick glance with Ameer, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As Sam disappeared down the hallway, Maher allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The plan had worked.

"What was that about?" Ameer asked quietly, his tone laced with suspicion.

Maher shrugged, playing it cool. "Just an accident. I wasn't paying attention."

But as he walked away, his mind was already racing with possibilities. If Sam and Ziyad were hiding something, the camera would reveal it—and Maher would be one step closer to uncovering the truth.