Mason froze. About what?
The senior officer on the line replied immediately, his tone firm, but dropping low as if touching the edge of something grave.
About the Grady case, and about what is starting to surface behind him.
Mason lifted his head, looking toward Breitmart, where Aisha stood in the sunlight.
The hot wind swept through the narrow streets like a cold draft from a hidden door opening somewhere underground.
Mason stood pressed against the brick wall at the side of Breitmart, his hand gripping the phone against his ear.
The voice of the senior officer on the other end was not loud, but carried weight, each word dropping into his ear like small stones falling into a deep well, sending ripples down that never quite disappeared.
Hail, you just stuck your hand into a nest of snakes.
Mason frowned, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.
Say it clearly, he straightened, ready to receive the thing he had sensed for a long time, but never wanted to face.
The officer's voice dropped lower.
Grady is not acting alone. Someone very high up is protecting him.
They are stepping out now and they are watching you and the girl.
A tight pressure wrapped around Mason's chest at the words.
The girl.
The image of Aisha standing behind the lit counter flashed through his mind along with Malik who had just escaped death.
He gripped the phone so hard his knuckles went white.
I do not abandon anyone.
His voice was not loud, but firm, like an oath pulled from the deepest part of him.
The officer sighed as if he had known the answer, but still had to issue the warning.
Hail, listen carefully.
If she stays, someone will come.
Not alone, a group.
These people are not as noisy as Grady.
They work in the dark, and when they choose a target, the target rarely survives to tell the story.
A heavy silence stretched out.
Only the wind and distant traffic pressed against Mason's ears.
He did not ask anything else.
He knew every word after this would circle the same truth.
Aisha was no longer safe in this city.
I understand, Mason said, then ended the call, holding the phone for a second longer, as if he could crush it and drain out the anger and helplessness rising in his chest.
He turned to look at Breitmart, where the warm yellow light still spilled out like a final shelter for people who had just survived a storm.
But he knew that light was fragile, easy to snuff out at any moment by the hands of those behind Grady.
He did not hesitate.
Mason stepped into the store, his snow-wet shoes leaving long trails of water across the tile.
Aisha was rearranging the shelves and Malik was sitting in the back with a cup of hot chocolate in hand.
Both looked up when Mason entered, but his eyes were not the way they usually were.