Chapter 2: The Abandoned House

Amina’s POV

The faint creak of the wooden floor echoed as I stepped further into the abandoned house. The dim light filtering through broken windows cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Zayd followed close behind, his steps deliberate, his gaze scanning every corner of the room.

"Anything stand out to you?" I asked, not looking back.

"Besides the obvious stench of mildew and despair?" he quipped, earning a sharp glance from me.

"Focus, Al-Rashid."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright, alright. Let’s see what we have here."

We moved through the house methodically. Every creak of the floorboards made my nerves buzz, but I wouldn’t let it show. Zayd seemed perfectly at ease, humming under his breath as he examined a stack of old newspapers in the corner.

"What’s so interesting over there?" I asked.

He held up a brittle page, the edges crumbling slightly. "This. It’s dated last month. Doesn’t seem to fit in a house that’s been abandoned for years, does it?"

I frowned, stepping closer. He was right—the rest of the house looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages. Why would someone bring a newspaper here?

"Let me see." I reached for the page, but Zayd pulled it back just slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Say ‘please,’" he said, his tone light.

"Al-Rashid," I warned, my patience thinning.

"Fine, fine." He handed it over, his smirk intact.

I scanned the page quickly. Most of it seemed unremarkable, but a small section circled in red ink caught my attention. It was an article about a recent art theft—a famous Ottoman-era painting stolen from a private collection.

"This doesn’t match the case we’re working on," I said aloud.

"Maybe not directly," Zayd replied, his tone thoughtful for once. "But it could be a clue. Whoever left this here wanted someone to find it."

"Or they were careless," I countered.

Zayd shrugged. "Possibly. But I don’t believe in coincidences."

---

We moved into the next room, where the strange symbol I’d noticed earlier reappeared on a cracked mirror.

"It’s the same symbol," I pointed out, taking a photo with my phone.

Zayd crouched down to inspect the mirror’s frame. "You’re right. And it’s been carved into the wood—not drawn. Someone took their time with this."

I studied the symbol again. It felt familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

"Do you think it’s connected to the messages?" I asked.

Zayd nodded slowly. "It’s possible. If we decode the messages, we might figure out what this symbol represents."

I glanced at him, noting how focused he seemed. This was the first time I’d seen him drop his playful facade entirely. For a moment, I considered thanking him for taking the case seriously. But then he stood and dusted off his hands, his smirk returning as if it had never left.

"Don’t look so impressed, Amina," he said. "It’s bad for my ego."

I rolled my eyes and turned away.

---

As we left the house, I noticed Zayd linger near the doorway. He pulled out a small notebook and quickly jotted something down, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I wasn’t watching.

"What are you writing?" I asked, startling him.

He snapped the notebook shut, his expression unreadable. "Just some notes for the report. Don’t worry about it."

I wanted to press further, but before I could, my phone buzzed with a message from Captain Harun:

"Another symbol found. This time at a different location. Meet me there."

Zayd read over my shoulder. "Looks like our night’s just getting started," he said with a grin.

As we walked back to the car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Zayd knew more than he was letting on. But for now, I’d have to focus on the next clue.

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