The Missing Page

The rain hammered down like a relentless drumbeat, turning Dhaka's streets into a blur of shadows and wet pavement. Detective Juih Khanom's breath fogged in the cold night air as she approached the dimly lit apartment building. Behind her, Sergeant Shahriar Hossain trailed silently, his eyes scanning every flicker of movement.

The door to Sultan Mahmud Jimmy's apartment was slightly open, a subtle breach in the otherwise locked-down building. Juih's heart tightened. Something wasn't right. Inside, the stale air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and forgotten secrets. Shadows clung to the corners like vultures, waiting to swallow the truth whole. Juih pushed the door open wider, the old hinges protesting with a low creak. The apartment was eerily silent, save for the steady drip of water somewhere deep within the walls. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through rain-soaked windows.

There, on the floor beneath the faded curtains, lay Sultan Mahmud Jimmy. His eyes stared blankly at the cracked ceiling, wide open in a frozen gaze. A thin line of blood traced from the corner of his mouth, pooling quietly on the cold floor. Juih's breath caught. There was no sign of struggle, no forced entry-nothing that fit the story of a simple robbery. Her mind raced, remembering the promise Sultan had made to expose a truth so dangerous it could topple powerful men.

She glanced at Shahriar. "This wasn't a robbery."

Juih took a slow step forward, careful not to disturb anything. Her eyes scanned the small living space-a cramped room filled with tall, overcrowded bookshelves, stacks of papers spilling onto the floor, and a battered wooden desk cluttered with half-empty tea cups and old newspapers. The pale glow of a laptop screen flickered weakly, casting long shadows that danced on the cracked walls.

She knelt beside Sultan's body, her fingers brushing lightly over his wrist, searching for a pulse she knew wouldn't be there. Her mind raced, a knot tightening in her stomach. He was so close. So close to exposing something big. Why would anyone want to silence him now?

The weight of the room pressed down on her, heavy with secrets and fear. The silence wasn't empty-it was waiting. Watching.

"Has the forensic team arrived?" Juih asked without looking up."On their way," Shahriar replied, voice low.

juih's mind raced. Sultan had been working on something big - she could feel it. She glanced toward the desk and noticed a stack of notebooks and papers, but one spot on the desk was strangely clear. It was as if something important had been taken.

"Whatever they're looking for," she murmured, "it's missing."

Juih stood slowly, eyes never leaving the clear space on the desk. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message: Forensics on the way. Secure the area.

Shahriar stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Juih, you think this ties to that story Sultan was chasing? The one about Project Darpon?"

She nodded grimly. "It has to. Nothing else makes sense." Her mind flicked back to the warnings she'd heard-whispers in the department telling her to back off. But Sultan's death changed everything.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway. The forensic team was arriving.

Juih took one last look at Sultan's lifeless face and felt a cold resolve settle in her chest. This wasn't just a case anymore-it was a war.

The sound of footsteps grew louder as Shahriar lowered his voice. "Juih, this... this isn't just a simple murder. Sultan was digging into something big. You know that, right?"

She met his eyes, steady and calm despite the storm inside her. "I do. And that's why we can't let this go. If we do, no one else will."

Shahriar sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You've heard the warnings, haven't you? From the brass. They want this case closed fast-and quiet. You going against that... it won't be easy."

Juih's gaze didn't waver. "Since when did doing the right thing ever come easy? Sultan believed in exposing the truth, no matter the cost. If we walk away now, we're just helping whoever killed him."

He glanced around the empty room, lowering his voice even more. "You're playing a dangerous game, Juih. People don't just disappear because of bad luck. They get erased. You have to be careful."

A flicker of steel shone in Juih's eyes. "I'm not afraid. Not anymore."

Shahriar nodded slowly. "Then let's make sure you don't have to be."

Two figures stepped into the apartment, dressed in dark blue coveralls with plastic gloves already on. One of them, a woman with sharp eyes and a quiet intensity, gave Juih a brief nod.

"Detective Khanom," she said. "We'll take it from here."

"Good. Be thorough," Juih replied. "Don't assume anything. And check the desk-there's something missing."

As the team got to work, photographing the scene and collecting samples, Juih and Shahriar stepped back into the hallway.

The air outside felt no better-still heavy with rain and the weight of what they'd just seen.

Shahriar lit a cigarette with a shaky hand. "So, what's next?"

Juih stared at the city lights in the distance, her voice low. "We start with his files. We find out what he was working on before they wiped it clean." She paused, then added, "And we do it off the record. I don't trust anyone above us right now." Shahriar gave her a sidelong look. "You have a plan?" Juih nodded. "Not yet. But I know someone who can help when the time comes."

......................

The police station was a tired building-old, grey, and always too loud. The flickering fluorescent lights buzzed like angry insects as Juih walked through the main hall, water still dripping from her coat. Most desks were empty. It was past midnight, but the station never really slept.

She made her way to her small corner office. The room was cold and quiet, the only sound coming from the ticking clock on the wall. Juih sat down at her desk and opened her notebook, flipping to a clean page.

Case File: Sultan Mahmud Jimmy - Unnatural Death

Status: Active Investigation (Unofficial)

She paused before writing more. Every instinct told her this wasn't just a murder-it was a message.

There was a knock at her door. She looked up to see Inspector Harun, her superior, leaning against the frame with a fake smile on his face.

"I heard you were at the journalist's scene," he said casually.

"I was," she replied, trying to read his expression.

"Well," he shrugged, "looks like a burglary. No need to overcomplicate it. Just write up your notes, and we'll close it quietly."

Juih stared at him. "There was no forced entry. Nothing valuable taken. And his files are missing."

Harun's smile didn't fade, but his eyes turned cold. "Sometimes, Khanom, it's better not to dig too deep. You know how this place works."

She said nothing.

"Just don't make this your personal crusade," he added, voice quieter now. "Let it go."

When he finally walked away, the silence in her office felt heavier than the one in Sultan's apartment.

Juih leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. She didn't need to be warned twice to know what she was up against.

But letting it go? That was never an option.

🕵️ Later That Night - Evidence Room, Dhaka Metro Police HQ

The halls were quieter now. Most of the night shift was either asleep at their desks or lost in paperwork. Juih kept her head down, a folder in hand, walking like she belonged - because technically, she did. Just not in the evidence room without clearance. She paused outside the secured door. A security camera blinked slowly above her. She turned away, pretending to check her phone, then slipped around the corner. A moment later, she returned wearing gloves and a hood pulled low.

The door was locked with a keypad. She typed quickly-4-7-0-2. Her eyes didn't even blink when the light turned green. Inside, the evidence room was dim and dusty, the hum of an old fan spinning above her. Rows of shelves stood tall, stuffed with sealed bags, brown boxes, and manila folders. The kind of place where inconvenient truths went to sleep. She moved quickly to the new entries-Sultan Mahmud Jimmy's case was logged only hours ago. But when she found the box labeled "SMJ-24," she froze.

It was almost empty.

No laptop. No notebooks. No phone. Just a USB drive and a small, folded paper clipped to the chain-of-custody form. Her chest tightened. They've already started wiping him out.

She slipped the USB into her coat pocket and carefully unfolded the paper. Scribbled in Sultan's messy handwriting was a quote:

"If I go silent, start with the missing page. It's not what's written-it's what's been erased."

💻 Juih's Apartment - 3:11 AM

The lights were off, save for the dull glow of her laptop screen. Juih sat cross-legged on the floor, hoodie pulled over her head, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The city outside was silent, but her mind was buzzing. She slipped the USB into the port. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a single folder appeared on the desktop:

"EYES_ONLY"

She clicked.

Inside were only two files.

blackveil.png

darpon_notes.txt

Her breath caught at the second file. Project Darpon. The same name Sultan had mumbled in a voicemail weeks ago before he vanished from public view.

She opened the .txt file first.

DARAPON - Internal Notes

Last updated: July 19

Encrypted storage locations not secure

MNDA files copied to offsite server - location: [REDACTED]

Zara recommends deeper masking, risk of breach

J.J. connected to Black Veil (uncertain)

Do not trust "Harun"

If this is found Go to Zara , She knows where the rest is

Juih stared at the screen, heart pounding. Zara. Sultan trusted her. And he knew Harun was compromised. The puzzle was forming-Project Darpon, Black Veil, corruption reaching into the department itself.

She opened the second file: blackveil.png.

A blurry screenshot popped up. It showed a web of photos, documents, and faces - like a crime board. In the center was the word:

BLACK VEIL

Juih zoomed in. She recognized three faces.

One was Sultan.

One was a man marked with a red X.

And the third... was Harun, grinning in an old press photo.

Juih sat back, stunned. This was bigger than she'd thought. If this conspiracy had a name like Black Veil... it wasn't just about silencing one journalist. It was about covering up something huge.

And now she had a choice. Go deeper - or disappear.

She opened her encrypted contact app and typed:

Zara, we need to talk. Now. It's about Sultan......

hey! brilliant readers

hope you guys liked this chapter

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J.K.