Chapter 27, Deadly Mistake

Maher sat alone in his room, staring at the evidence he had collected from the tunnel. He and Ameer had agreed to keep their investigation and what they'd found a secret until they had enough proof to arrest Sameer. 

For now, Maher had hidden the evidence in his card box under the bed, certain his mother would never look there. 

After hours of piecing everything together, he decided to meet Ameer and share his findings. 

"I think I know what this is about," Maher said. 

"Tell me,"Ameer replied. "What do you think is going on?"

Maher sighed. "Sameer isn't the only one involved in this. He's an amateur—only an amateur would make such a stupid mistake and get caught. He sacrificed his employees and cut all ties with them, like a lizard dropping its tail to escape. But unfortunately for him, he didn't have time to clean out the storage room or retrieve his boxes of powder."

"Yeah, that much is clear,"Ameer said. "What do you think his next move will be?"

"I don't know," Maher admitted. "Either he'll use his connections—maybe even get his father to pressure the police and shut down the investigation so he can reclaim the powder—or he'll find a scapegoat. They'll get some guy to play the part of the mastermind, take the blame, and confess. And once that happens, no matter what evidence we have, the investigation will be over."

Ameer nodded his head, he said "you're right, I think that he'll simply get someone to confess and end everything, he'll probably avoid getting his father involved, so what do we do now?"

Maher sat back in his chair, he didn't have a clear idea of what he's going to do from now on.

He sighed and said "let's just look for more evidence now, we need to be quiet and careful."

Maher returned from his meeting with Ameer, the weight of their conversation still lingering. He entered his house, expecting the quiet solitude he usually found there. Instead, his mother intercepted him, her expression a mix of surprise and slight concern. "You have a guest, Maher. Waiting in your room."

He frowned, puzzled. "A guest? Who?"

"Hasan," she replied, her tone laced with a hint of apprehension. "And your cousin Tawfiq is with him, keeping him company."

Maher's stomach tightened. Hasan. in his room. And Tawfiq, his cousin, caught in the middle. This was far from ideal. He forced a polite smile for his mother, masking his unease.

"Right. Thank you, mother."

He climbed the stairs, each step amplifying his growing sense of dread. He paused outside his room, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Inside, Hasan sat comfortably on his bed, a casual air about him that belied the tension crackling in the room. Tawfiq, perched awkwardly on the edge of a chair, offered a strained smile. He looked relieved to see Maher, as if he'd been waiting for a rescue. The air was thick with unspoken questions, and Maher knew this unexpected visit spelled trouble.

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After a few minutes, Tawfiq excused himself. " I have to go, I got an important appointment," he said before hurrying out. 

Maher and Hasan sat in silence—an awkward, heavy silence. Maher studied Hasan, who kept his head low, his bangs shadowing his eyes as he avoided Maher's gaze. Before Maher could speak, Hasan finally broke the quiet. 

"Today's my first day off in almost a month," he murmured. "I was supposed to spend it with my family, but… I don't know why, I felt like I needed to come see you. Like you needed me." He hesitated, then added, "I had a dream last night. You were drowning… in a river of sorrow."

Maher blinked. "A river of what?"

Hasan lifted his eyes, locking onto Maher's. "Sorrow." 

Neither looked away, the tension thickening between them. Finally, Maher scoffed. "And how did you know it was sorrow? Was it just water, or are you being dramatic?" 

Hasan exhaled sharply. "Come on, Maher. Drop the act. I'm your friend. If you're in trouble, just tell me." 

Maher's confusion deepened. The whole conversation was surreal, and he didn't have the energy for their usual back-and-forth. "Hasan, what the hell are you talking about?"

Hasan stood abruptly and crossed the room, gripping Maher's shoulder. "You're lucky I'm a nurse. I can help you, no one has to know. It'll be easier this way."

Maher's patience snapped. He shot up, seizing Hasan by the collar. "Omar isn't here. If I decide I'm done playing nice, no one's saving you. Spit it out what's this about?"

Hasan grabbed Maher's collar in return, his voice rising. "I'm the one who should be furious! How could you let it get this bad without telling us? I knew you were depressed, but drugs? And powder, of all things? You, Maher? Seriously?"

The room fell dead silent. 

Maher froze, his grip slackening. For a second, he wondered if he'd misheard. Then, with a curse, he dropped Hasan and lunged for the box under his bed— 

"It's not there,"Hasan said flatly. "Tawfiq wanted to play cards, so he borrowed yours. He found the powder but didn't recognize it. I did. I've treated addicts before—ones who nearly died from that crap." His voice turned bitter. "You should thank me. I told him it was shoe powder. For the smell."

Maher's mind reeled. Of all the stupid mistakes—hiding evidence in his own room, where his friends and family constantly barged in. Was it his fault for not locking the door? Or just the curse of Arab households, where privacy was a myth? 

Swallowing his frustration, Maher forced himself to stand slowly. He placed a steadying hand on Hasan's shoulder. "Listen to me. That powder isn't mine. It's evidence. You know I'm a cop."

Hasan's skepticism didn't waver. 

Maher pressed on, voice low. "I know it looks bad—taking it home, stashing it under my bed—but I swear, it's not what you think. I'd never touch that stuff."

A long pause. Then Hasan's shoulders sagged in relief. "Alhamdulillah," he breathed. "Your eyes… there were no signs. I'm just glad you're okay."

Maher exhaled. "Hasan, you can't tell anyone. This is part of an investigation."

Hasan nodded. "Your secret's safe. And… I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

It's okay," Maher said, patting Hasan's back. "You didn't know. So, where's the powder?"

Hasan reached into his pocket, retrieved the packet, and gave it to Maher. "I was planning to get rid of it in the river on my way out."

Maher smirked. "What's with you and rivers today? If you wanted a swim, why come here?"

Hasan looked away, his voice tinged with resentment. "Well, forgive me for taking time out of my busy schedule to check on you. I should have gone to Omar. He actually appreciates my efforts. And he gave me a decent wedding present, not a used mixer that broke after one use!"

Maher smirked, the small packet of powder disappearing into the depths of his drawer. He made a mental note to find a more secure hiding place later. Turning back to Hasan, he saw the flicker of unease in his friend's eyes. Hasan's gut twisted, he sensed impending danger. Before he could react Maher moved. He grabbed Hasan, hoisting him up with surprising strength, and executed a suplex. Fortunately for Hasan, the bed broke his fall, the mattress cushioning the impact.

The sudden crash echoed through the house, drawing Maher's mother to the room. She rushed in, her eyes wide with concern. Her gaze immediately went to Hasan, checking him for any visible injuries. She gently helped him to his feet, her touch reassuring. Once she was satisfied that he was relatively unharmed, her attention shifted to Maher. The smile was gone, replaced by a stern expression. She launched into a lengthy lecture, her voice rising with each word, emphasizing the importance of treating guests with respect, especially those he called friends.