Chapter 1
“Kiran! Get up. It’s already 6:00 AM,” I said, shaking him. “We’ll be late for duty.”
“Just five more minutes, Sparsha,” he groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow.
His phone buzzed, breaking the quiet. A call from our so-called superior. With a heavy sigh, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What now?” he muttered, reaching for the phone.
“Looks like we’ve got a case,” I said, catching the urgency in his tone as he listened.
“Rare for Kolkata,” he grumbled before heading to the shower. The warmth of his half-asleep demeanor melted my irritation.
After a quick breakfast of bread and butter, we made our way to the crime branch. The usually calm atmosphere was alive with tension.
“Hurry up, Kiranji, Sparshaji!” Rudra Singh barked as we entered, his voice sharp despite the paan juice staining his lips.
“What’s going on, sir?” I asked.
“It’s a murder. MLA B. Mallesh’s daughter,” he said, thrusting a case file into my hands. “Liyora. High pressure from his side. You two need to handle this.”
Kiran frowned, flipping through the file. “Where’s the body?”
“Being brought in. You’ll find more at the crime scene. Go now.”
Without hesitation, we grabbed the file and rushed out.
Clue No. 1
December 10, 2018
The scene was a nightmare.
The body lay scattered along the railway track—head, torso, hands, and legs strewn across ten-meter intervals. At first glance, it mimicked a suicide, but the horrific details said otherwise.
Cigarette burns, blade marks, and bruises etched a story of relentless torture. I stood frozen, my breath catching as dread gnawed at my resolve. What if it were me? The unbidden thought sent a shiver through me.
Kiran, ever composed, donned his gloves and stepped closer. His crisp blue shirt stretched over his frame as he examined the body, every motion deliberate. For a fleeting moment, I caught myself admiring him. I shook my head. Focus, Sparsha.
“This wasn’t a quick kill,” he muttered. “Look at the cuts—deliberate, measured.”
I nodded, pulling myself together. “The killer wanted her to suffer.”
The forensic team documented the scene while Kiran and I ordered the body to be sent for autopsy. The drive back was silent until Kiran glanced at me.
“You’re unusually quiet,” he said.
“It’s nothing,” I lied. “Just... thinking about the case.”
“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice unusually sharp. “Talk to me.”
I hesitated before blurting out, “I imagined myself in her place. What if... what if it were me?”
His jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He pulled over abruptly, turning to face me. His eyes burned with something raw—anger, fear, love. “Sparsha, I’d burn the world to ashes before letting anyone hurt you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I leaned in, kissing his forehead. “I love you, Kiran. Will you marry me and put up with my madness?”
His lips curved into a small smile, his voice softening. “You’re stuck with me now.”
Clue No. 2
In the forensic lab, we joined the doctor for the postmortem. The stench of chemicals mixed with death hung heavy in the air.
The doctor worked meticulously, razor in hand. “Her skull has a deep scar. Blood clot suggests blunt-force trauma.”
Kiran frowned, pointing to the burns on her arms. “Cigarette marks, clustered near the wrists.”
“And her collarbone,” the doctor added grimly. “There’s evidence of prolonged torture.”
I stared at her pale, lifeless face, bile rising in my throat. “Why keep her for two days before dumping the body? Unless...” My voice trailed off.
“Unless the killer’s a psychopath,” Kiran finished, his tone dark.
“Look here,” the doctor interrupted, motioning to her hands. “Defensive wounds. She fought back.”
“And lost,” I murmured.
The doctor’s face darkened as he examined further. “The genital area is ruptured. This was a brutal assault.”
I clenched my fists, fury and sadness warring within me. “When can we get the full report?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Tomorrow morning,” the doctor replied.
Kiran placed a hand on my shoulder as we exited. “You okay?” he asked.
“No. But I will be,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “We’ll find whoever did this. And we’ll make them pay.”
Later that night
Back at my apartment, I tossed my phone onto the bed and let out a long sigh. The weight of the day pressed heavily on my chest. Images of Liyora’s mutilated body flashed in my mind, refusing to let me rest.
I ran my hands through my hair, trying to push the haunting thoughts aside. The silence in the room felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos in my head.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed. A message.
Unknown Number.
Frowning, I picked it up, hesitating for a moment before unlocking the screen. My breath caught as I read the text:
“Try to find me out if you can.”
The words seemed to pulse on the screen, daring me. My heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through my veins. My first instinct was to call Kiran, to share this with someone I trusted. But something stopped me.
This wasn’t a random taunt—it was personal. Directed at me.
Whoever sent this was playing a game, and I had just become their unwilling player. My fingers trembled as I stared at the message, the room suddenly feeling colder. I wasn’t just a detective anymore—I was part of his sick game.
