Ramis woke up sore all over. His ribs ached when he breathed too deep, and his knee felt stiff and swollen. He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, before his phone started buzzing on the nightstand.
It was his dad.
Marcus: Lab came back fast. Reed's clinic is legit. We're hitting it at 9 AM. Breakfast from your mom is in the station fridge. Don't be late.
Ramis let out a tired breath and sat up slowly. 'Of course Mom sent food.' Even when he was neck-deep in a murder case, his parents still looked after him like he was fifteen.
He showered carefully, avoiding the hot water on the worst bruises, then threw on a dark gray shirt and jeans. Before leaving, he picked up Sophia's card, saved her number, and sent a quick text:
Ramis: Knee's iced like you said. Thanks again for last night.
He didn't wait for a reply. He grabbed his keys and headed out.
By 8:45 AM the homicide unit was already buzzing. Ramis walked in and found Marcus waiting with a container of Elena's scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. He took it gratefully and started eating at an empty desk.
"Reed's place is called Harmony Wellness Center," Marcus told him. "Fancy clinic in the Heights. Supposed to treat rich people with sleep problems. We've got a warrant."
Ruiz walked over, sipping coffee. "Sounds like the perfect cover for pushing designer drugs to people who want to check out nicely."
Ramis nodded while chewing. "If Reed made Elysium-9, he probably knows who else is involved. Crowe said he was just the middleman."
They left the station at 9:15 in two unmarked cars. Ramis rode with his father. The drive was quiet at first. Marcus kept glancing at him.
"You sure you're good to do this?" he asked. "You took some hard hits last night."
"I'm fine, Dad. Just sore," Ramis replied. "Mom's food helped. She still cooks like I'm coming home from school."
Marcus gave a small chuckle. "She worries, we both do. You're our only kid, hard habit to break."
The Harmony Wellness Center looked expensive even from the outside — glass walls, clean lines, and peaceful water features in the front. It felt more like a high-end spa than a doctor's office.
Inside, the receptionist froze when they showed the warrant.
"Dr. Reed is in a session—" she started.
"Not anymore," Marcus said. "Take us to him."
They moved down a quiet hallway and stopped at the last door. Marcus knocked once and pushed it open.
Dr. Elias Reed was sitting behind a big wooden desk, writing in a notebook. He was tall and thin, with graying hair and glasses. The moment he saw the police, his face went white.
"Dr. Reed," Marcus said, holding up the warrant, "we're here about Elysium-9. We have reason to believe you've been producing and distributing it through this clinic."
Reed stood up slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. "There must be a mistake. I only provide advanced sleep therapy for clients with severe anxiety and insomnia."
Ramis stepped closer. "We found your special batches. Victor Lang. Daniel Park. Both died smiling after taking your 'therapy.' Care to explain?"
Reed's hands shook as he adjusted his glasses. "I… I don't know those names."
While Marcus continued questioning him, Ruiz and the other detectives started searching the office. Within minutes they found a hidden panel behind a bookshelf. Inside were dozens of small glass vials filled with clear liquid and several notebooks full of records.
Ramis picked up one of the notebooks and flipped through it. Client names, dates, dosages, and large cash payments were neatly listed.
"You didn't just make the drug," Ramis said quietly. "You sold it as a peaceful way out for rich clients who wanted to disappear without mess."
Reed sank back into his chair, sweat forming on his forehead. He looked defeated.
Before they could press him further, Reed's phone rang on the desk. The caller ID said "Unknown."
Marcus nodded at Ramis. He answered it and put it on speaker.
A calm, smooth woman's voice came through the line.
"Dr. Reed, is the new batch ready? We have two clients scheduled for their final session tonight."
The entire room went still.
Ramis spoke clearly. "This isn't Dr. Reed. This is Ramis Walker. Who am I speaking to?"
There was a short pause, then a soft laugh.
"Ah… the captain's son. I've heard you're quite sharp. Tell your father the Sandman says hello. Enjoy your day, Mr. Walker."
The call ended.
Marcus immediately ordered a trace, but everyone knew it wouldn't lead anywhere useful. Reed looked even more terrified now.
"That was her," he whispered. "They call her the Dream Weaver. She decides who gets the final dose. I never met her in person. Crowe handled most of the deliveries."
Ramis stared at the silent phone. The woman's voice had been relaxed, almost playful. She didn't sound scared at all.
As the team started boxing up evidence and cuffing Reed, Ramis stepped outside the clinic with his father. The morning air felt cool on his face.
Marcus rubbed his jaw. "We got Reed and a lot of proof. But this Dream Weaver just made things more complicated."
Ramis nodded, still thinking about the phone call. "Yeah. She knows who we are."
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.
It was a reply from Sophia:
Sophia: Glad you're taking care of the knee. My shift just ended. If you're not too busy saving the city today, maybe we can grab that coffee this afternoon? No pressure.
Ramis read the message twice. In the middle of all this mess, the simple text made him feel a little lighter.
He typed back: Coffee sounds good. I'll text you when I can take a break.
Marcus noticed the small smile on his son's face as they got back in the car. "Good news?"
"Just someone checking in," Ramis said, slipping the phone away.
They drove back toward the precinct with Dr. Reed in custody and boxes of evidence in the trunk. They had made real progress today — a major supplier, records, and a new name.
But Ramis couldn't shake the feeling that the woman on the phone was only getting started.