Gunpoint

The sun has just set and it's already pretty dark since it started to rain. There is something about a rainy pathway that invites playful feet, when each new step will be rewarded with a splash. The sound of the drops hitting the floor resonates with the peaceful elements of the soul. Walking among those drops is my meditation, a way to fully become present in the moment, a way to feel free. I don't mind getting a little wet, as each drop rolls down my shirt, soaks my hair, and offers a peaceful melody to my ears. My black car with reflective film, requested my Hafsa so she can fix her scarf in the car without men peering in, shows a reflection of me walking towards the door. A smile escapes as I remember those fond memories when Aapa and I would bet, with bragging rights of course, on which drop would win the race. I open the wet, cold door handle, while giving a final wave to Aman who is standing by the door watching the raindrops hitting the door. As a kid with autism, the smallest details around him sparks his imagination. Sitting in the car, I shake drops of rain off my shirt as I settle in the seat. I put my hand through my wet hair and tried to fix it while checking in the car mirror. Adjusting the angle of the mirror, I notice a shadowy figure in the back seat. "What the hell?". Before I could even turn around, I felt a cold piece of metal on the back of my neck.

Detective Haroon has been working for the NYPD for the last three years, and in this time, he has solved more cases than any other detective. So when he is assigned to the murder case of Madeline Hall, a 16-year old girl, with no leads, no witnesses, and no evidence, he is ready to crack the case. When the case begins to hit close to home, he realizes this case is bigger than he could have anticipated.