### Chapter 14
Birgül’s mind was racing as she drove to the police station after dropping off Birgül. What had happened? Where had Ömer disappeared to? She couldn’t bear the thought that something had happened to him because of the task she had given him. The people she worked with were like her own children. She always tried to help them, do everything she could for them. She rushed up the steps and entered the office, where Ali İhsan had already gathered the team and was reviewing the data.
“Welcome, chief,” Ali said.
“What’s going on? Tell me everything.”
Adnan had his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, his shirt untucked. The feel of the box in his pocket reminded him that nothing was going according to plan. He hadn’t solved the case, found the child, or made Birgül happy. Now, Ömer was missing too, and he felt like he was sinking into quicksand.
“We haven’t heard from Ömer since last night. His wife called me around ten, saying he hadn’t come home and wasn’t answering his phone. At first, I tried to investigate quietly to avoid causing a panic, but as hours passed, I became worried too. It’s been almost twenty-four hours with no word from him. We’ve pinpointed the last location his phone signal was detected. We’re about to head there, chief.”
“Where is it?”
“Şehla Village, chief. Muhsin’s birthplace.”
“Everyone, get ready to move out!” Adnan said, checking the magazine of his gun and securing it in his belt.
The team vehicles left the station one after another, sirens off. Adnan and Ali İhsan were in the same car, both worried about Ömer’s safety as the miles ticked by.
“Why did he go to that house? Something must have happened.”
“I don’t know, chief. Yesterday evening, he went to one of the slums. He said he had found someone who was close to Hüsrev during his orphanage years and was trying to learn Hüsrev’s whereabouts from him. But the man didn’t know anything. All he could find out was that Hüsrev was still alive.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this? It’s clear this is our man. How could you be so careless?”
Adnan’s raised voice made Ali İhsan bow his head. He knew his chief was right.
“You were dealing with Namık’s case. We didn’t want to bother you at the time, and besides, it was just a minor investigation.”
“That ‘minor’ investigation has put your friend in danger.”
Ali fell silent, not knowing what to say. He couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened to Ömer. All he could do was hope Ömer was okay. They entered the narrow streets Ömer had walked through the previous night. The narrow alley barely fit one vehicle. They drove to the front of the house and stopped. The headlights illuminated the dark neighborhood. The front of Muhsin’s house loomed like a ghost. Adnan got out, leaving the headlights on. Some windows opened, and curious elderly people watched from their homes, awakened by the sound of the car.
Adnan swallowed hard, thinking about Ömer entering this house and never coming out again. He took a deep breath and stepped toward the house. He pushed open the old wooden door, which creaked as it swung open. As he took the first step inside, Ali followed with his flashlight. Ali İhsan shone his light around the room, illuminating the shadows of the furniture, which appeared gigantic in the beam. They quickly scanned the living room and headed to the first door they found. The kitchen was just as Ömer had left it. Both men were silent. Ali shone his light on a moved cabinet and saw the open door to the cellar.
“Chief, there’s a door here,” he said, as if Adnan hadn’t seen it.
“I see it, Ali. Let’s go see what’s inside.”
Adnan took the lead again, stepping through the door. The sound of dripping water from the faucet accompanied him as he descended the four steps into the cellar. His chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. Ali followed, his flashlight illuminating a pile of bones.
“Look closely, Ali. We’re about to solve a murder from years ago.”
Adnan walked carefully toward the bones, mindful of where he stepped.
“Ömer solved it before us, chief.”
When he reached the bones, he counted four skulls.
“Ömer not only solved the murder, but he also found the killer. Let’s hope he isn’t the next victim.”
“Do you think Hüsrev took Ömer?” Ali wanted to hear anything but the obvious truth. Yet, reality remained unchanging.
“Is there any other possibility, Ali?” Adnan said, turning to him, only to hear a crunch under his foot. They looked at each other in disgust. Adnan was certain he had stepped on a bone. As they lowered their gazes to the broken object, they saw it in the light. Under Adnan’s foot was Ömer’s phone.
He slowly lifted his foot, afraid of breaking the phone further with a sudden movement. As he picked it up, the shattered screen fell apart like ice. The phone seemed useless.
“If his phone is here, where is he?” Ali İhsan’s voice trembled as he thought about what might have happened to his friend.
“I guess we’ll have to ask the warden.”
Adnan took the flashlight from Ali’s hand and methodically illuminated every corner of the floor. Any clue they missed could be Ömer’s ticket to freedom.
“If we can find the warden.”
Ali İhsan’s voice was filled with despair. They were dealing with someone who had left four bodies here, killed Ozan, Muhsin, and who knows how many others, all with cold-blooded precision, and had managed to evade capture for years.
“I swear, even if he’s in the depths of hell, I’ll find him and skin him alive!” Adnan vowed in anger as his phone rang, echoing through the empty cellar.
“Great timing,” he muttered, pulling the phone from his pocket. He was shocked to see who was calling. As Ali watched curiously, Adnan brought the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
**A few hours earlier:**
“Let’s say Hüsrev kidnapped Buğra. How did he find him? Where did he see him?” Nevbahar asked.
“The apartment was built on the site of the orphanage. So, Hüsrev must have some connection to the apartment,” Süleyman suggested, searching for solutions and discussing possibilities.
“If that were the case, Muhsin would have known his brother. I don’t think Hüsrev would risk that,” Ayhan said, sitting cross-legged and staring at the rug’s patterns, though his mind was racing elsewhere.
“Since we moved here, we’ve taken Buğra to the kebab shop, the market, school, and school shopping. Maybe he saw him at one of those places,” Figen said while Tarık internally disagreed. There was something else.
“Damn it!” he exclaimed, pulling at his hair in frustration.
“Calm down, nephew. We’ll find a way,” his uncle said, looking at him.
“Uncle, I can’t remember. Something is right in front of me, right under my nose, but I can’t see it. There’s something, but what?”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard. Give your thoughts a rest. Whatever it is will reveal itself,” Figen’s comforting words weren’t enough to stop the chaos in Tarık’s mind. Nothing could quell the turmoil in his head.
“Did anything strange happen while we were asleep, Uncle? Did anything catch your attention?” Ayhan asked, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. Tarık needed to calm down.
“The cleaner, that odd man; when the ambulance took you, I forgot to lock the door. When I came back, he was coming out of Buğra’s room with a garbage bag. Nothing seemed to be missing, but I was suspicious.”
“Did you tell Commissioner Adnan?”
“No, nephew, other things happened. Muhsin’s body was found, and I forgot.”
“We should tell him, Uncle. Maybe it’s important.”
“Alright, I will.”
A short silence fell over the house. Each had pieces of the puzzle, but putting them together was challenging.
“Should we go downstairs?” Ayhan suggested after a while.
“Will Hasan Abi allow it?” Figen asked as Tarık stood up.
“My brother is missing. I don’t need his permission. Maybe if we find Samet, we’ll find Buğra,” he said, heading toward the door. The others quickly followed. There were missing graves to find. They descended the stairs they had climbed many times before, not stopping at the exit door but continuing to the basement. The darkness enveloped them as they stepped onto the basement stairs. Ayhan and Figen turned on their phone flashlights. The dry air clung to their throats. The steps, contrary to what one might expect, looked clean.
“He cleans everything. I hear his footsteps at night.”
“That guy is weird. He bumped into me at the front door.”
“Buğra was scared of him, wasn’t he?” Ayhan interjected.
“Yeah,” Tarık confirmed. The steps ended, and they reached the boiler room.
“I expected to encounter locked doors,” Nevbahar said, glancing around the unpainted walls.
“It’s a closed space, no windows.”
Ayhan gave Süleyman a look that seemed to say, ‘Is that our only problem?’ but remained silent. There was no point in getting agitated now. Tarık had gone quiet, comparing the
place with his memories.
“The stairs have been moved. They used to descend from the left in Samet’s memory.”
“It was rebuilt after the fire,” Figen said in a matter-of-fact tone, thinking she hadn’t seen this part of the orphanage.
Tarık walked to where the stairs used to start and stopped.
“He entered here, carrying the children one by one and laying them on the ground. He was tired; carrying the children had worn him out. Then he went back out and brought in a wheelbarrow and digging tools.”
He walked again, everything around him losing meaning as he remembered what he had seen. Forgetting wasn’t really possible. He stopped after a few meters.
“He struck the ground here first. The concrete shattered, and the hole grew bigger. He threw the children into the pit and covered it again, then poured cement over it.”
“Samet and Enes are buried under where you’re standing?” Figen asked, internally cursing Zehra. Why hadn’t she been more careful and prevented her children’s deaths?
As if he read her mind, Ayhan said, “There’s such a thing as fate. Zehra couldn’t have known what would happen.”
Tarık stared at his shoes, feeling the traces of pain from years ago in his soul.
“They couldn’t have a proper breakfast, wear nice clothes. They never had a family, couldn’t call anyone mom or dad. They were always crushed, growing smaller as they were oppressed. They were weak, and the strong ones trampled on their heads with iron heels. Breathing, living; it’s a blessing from God, but it was torture for them. Their tiny bodies and souls never tasted happiness. They never even saw a kite made from a plastic bag. They never saw trees, flowers, and many beautiful things. They had eyes, but they were blind to all that.”