Had Omar crashed because he was too tired to drive?  And what was so important for him to get from his apartment?

Her gaze fixed on the carpet, Mona began to straighten in her chair when she finally noticed her large, suede purse lying at a slant just below her knees.

She glanced at the opening at some of the items inside.  It took a minute to realize what had caught her attention.  Something was missing.

The folder.

All the information she’d been carrying around on Saad.  The entire folder was gone.

Mona suddenly widened her legs and yanked her bag from the floor, pulling it open and frantically digging through it.  Everything else was there except the folder.

She raised her head in a look of dread, staring straight ahead.

“Is everything okay?”

Mona didn’t hear her friend.  She was already searching through her memory at the image of Omar’s office before she’d received Mawra’s call.

Was the folder still there?

She saw the desk… then the couch… then the chair.  One by one, she recalled the images at each spot in the room, every object she could remember.  But she couldn’t recall seeing the folder.

“Mona?”

It was too late.  She was already on her feet, racing back to the nurse.

“Where are his things?”

“Excuse me?”

“Omar Maher.  Where are his things?”

“I don’t…”

“His things!” she yelled.  “His clothes!  Everything he came in here with!”

The nurse appeared briefly confused.   “Who are you?”

“I’m his fiancé,” she lied.

The nurse stared back for a moment then rose from her chair.  “Let me see.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman said upon returning.  “Your fiancé’s only belongings were his clothes.  Would you like me to bring them to you?”

Mona shook her head.  “No.  Keep them here.”  She then turned to Mawra.  “You said the accident was near the Mall of Arabia?”

“Yes.  Along the 26th of July Corridor.”

It was a rhetorical question.  She remembered what Mawra had said.  But that mall was nowhere near Omar’s apartment.  Nor was it close to his office or even in the same direction.

“Something’s wrong,” Mona whispered to herself.

“What?”

Again, she didn’t answer.  The Mall of Arabia was on the west side of the city.  Omar’s apartment was north and his office east, making the location a mystery as much as the accident itself.  It was something she should have caught earlier when she’d learned he’d been taken to Coptic Hospital.

“Mona?”

Blankly, she turned back to her friend.

“Are you all right?”

Mona turned to peer back at the nurse, then at the wide double doors leading into the trauma unit.  Finally, she twisted around and looked outside.  “Something’s not right.”

“What is not right?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered numbly, running through the night in Omar’s office again.

Where was the folder?