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CHAPTER 9
Layla walked swiftly to her 2019 Toyota Highlander, which was parked in the building's basement. She hit the button to unlock her doors. After sitting in the driver’s seat, she locked all the doors, took a deep breath, and allowed the tears to fall. It was the first time she has allowed herself to show emotion in a long time.
Samantha was dead.
Layla pulled out her cell phone from the pocket of her blazer and saw six missed calls and twelve unread text messages. Most of the messages were from her parents, who probably wanted to break the news to her before anyone else did. There was one call from Samantha’s parents and two from Samantha’s younger brother. Layla looked down at her phone but decided against returning any of the calls.
She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Nothing that anyone said would bring Sammy back. What if they didn’t know how she died? What was Layla supposed to say? Her cousin was beaten, waterboarded, and murdered. The first question that flashed into her mind was who killed Samantha? The second question was, why would someone waterboard her? Was it some form of torture? Was it just kinky sex gone wrong? What would she tell her family?
Layla thought back to a time during basic training in Quantico when all the new recruits had to get waterboarded as a training exercise. She knew what she went through was a simulation. She was not in any real danger. But, even as a training, it was very scary. She remembered being strapped to a table and having a towel placed over her face. She took a few deep breaths, trying to mentally prepare herself for what was about to come. Without warning, the training officers poured water on her. In an instant, she could not breathe. Her nose and throat filled with water and all traces of oxygen escaped her lungs. She tried moving her arms and legs, but the straps held her down. The officers poured another small bucket of water on her face, and she endured the torture once more. Time felt like it was standing still, and all she could do was focus on trying not to die. Once the wet cloth was removed from her face, Layla started to catch her breath again. They untied her from the table, and she sat up.
“How long was that?” she remembers asking the officers. Layla expected them to say five minutes, maybe even ten.
“Thirty seconds,” replied one man.
It was only thirty seconds. She was not even put through one full minute of the torture. Layla imagined what Samantha must have gone through. The fear, gasping for air only to get water, and the feeling of drowning. What Layla went through was only a training. Someone waterboarded Samantha, intending to harm her. Samantha endured hell before dying.
Layla couldn’t stop the memories of her flooding her mind. She remembered how they skipped school together to go see a concert in the park. Afterward, they snuck into a bar and tried to buy drinks but ended up getting kicked out by the bouncer because one bartender said they were underage. She smiled at the memory of them playing with dolls when her parents lived in upstate New York. Samantha’s dad built them a treehouse and the two of them were in that tree the entire summer between third and fourth grade. Both spent an entire afternoon working on a sign that said No boys allowed! which prevented Samantha’s brother from coming into their club.
Layla remembered curling Samantha’s hair for their aunt’s wedding four years ago. They took more photos of each other than of the bride and groom. Since they were both bridesmaids, they were invited to the bachelorette party, where they drank half their weight in alcohol and threw it all up the next morning. Layla laughed as tears streamed down her face. There wouldn’t be any nights like that in the future. There would not be any more nights at all.
When Layla joined the FBI, Samantha attended Layla’s ceremony when she was sworn in. Samantha was so beautiful that all the men turned their heads to look at her when she took her seat. Afterward, she gave her cousin a pep talk about how Layla was not allowed to die in the field. If she did, Samantha joked that she would kill her. There was another conversation like that when she told Layla that she was going to strip full time. Layla didn’t like that her cousin stripped for a living. Not because she thought it was dirty work or anything, but Layla knew what type of men hung around strip clubs. The kind of men that have nothing better to do and decide to get hammered at three in the afternoon. Men that like to degrade women and think they can take what they want.
Layla didn’t trust men. Yes, she flirted and had her fair share of hookups, but she would be damned if she ever let a man treat her like an inferior. Layla had no problem kicking someone’s ass. Samantha, on the other hand, was sweet and trusting. She knew there were plenty of scumbags that hung around the clubs, but Layla thought she could handle herself.
She gripped her steering wheel so tight that her hands started to hurt. As she released her death grip on the wheel, a lump formed in her throat and her hazel brown eyes that mirrored her cousin, started to well again with tears. She tried to hold it together, but the tears were determined to fall. Layla buried her face in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her cousin, her best friend. Samantha was dead. There would be no more calls, text messages, or face time. She couldn’t call her best friend and tell her about what a dick her boss was for having her put on administrative probation. Nothing. In a blink of an eye, Sam was gone.
The loud ring of her cell phone caused Layla to jump. She looked down at the screen. It was her mother. The last thing she wanted to do was answer the phone, but she knew she couldn’t put it off forever. Layla pressed the green button to answer.
“Mom?” she answered as she tried to muffle the sounds of her crying.
“Layla? Where have you been? We’ve been trying to get a hold of you.” Layla can hear the urgency in her mother’s voice.
She tried to keep her voice neutral. “I’m at work. Everyone is calling me. What’s going on?”
Layla’s mom paused. “Honey, I have some news and it’s not good news.”
“What is it?”
“Um, it’s Samantha.” a long pause. “She has passed away.”
“What?” Layla tried to act surprised. “I don’t understand. I just talked to her a few weeks ago.”
“I know, sweetie.” Her mother’s voice was softer than normal. “We don’t know much, but the police said it might have been intentional. I don’t know, they won’t tell us much more than that. They came this morning and left not too long ago. You should come home.”
“I can’t, I’m out of town on an assignment but I will be home in a few days.” Layla lied. The last place she wanted to go is to her parents’ house where everyone would be crying and waiting for the police to contact them again with no answers. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“Okay, but please be careful,” Layla could hear the shakiness in her mother’s voice. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Layla said before disconnecting the call.
A wave of anger came over her as she wiped the remaining tears from her cheek. She wasn’t going to get answers from Dan or the police. No one in her family knew what happened and none of them would if Layla didn’t intervene. There was only one place to go now, the Emerald Club.
CHAPTER 10
The Emerald Club was well-known in Center City Philadelphia. Everybody knew it was the place to be on the weekends. It was in a great location, and one of the most high-end strip clubs in all of Philadelphia, but they also had a portion of the club where people came to dance and had a good time. Layla usually avoided driving in Center City when she was off because the traffic was crazy. But there was less congestion on a Tuesday morning after rush hour.
Layla parallel parked in a spot across the street from the club. The building was tall and the silver metal structure on the outside shows the reflection of anyone who looks at the club. The entrance to the building had a set of heavy gray doors. Above the doors sat a large dark green Emerald with the club logo written within the gemstone.
