One and (hopefully not done!)

The Emergency Task Force chief, Sameer Damsingh Rathore, gave a look of disdain to the flock of reporters yelling outside the HQ building.

This case was a mess. Rich kid decides to torture and kill a girl by pushing her off a 9th story building. It was that simple, and it was complicated. There was CCTV footage, but no physical evidence of the brat, Pratik Singhal, even touching the girl in the first place. His Father’s name and connection is whole another headache worthy topic.

He walked inside briskly, Chotu shielding him as the duo struggled and walked through the sea of reporters.

He could hear Rawte’s yelling from all the way to the entrance. Shree looked at him, nodding and wincing as the former’s voice seemed to rise an octave each passing moment. Rolling eyes to himself, Rathore stood outside the interrogation room, looking at the scene inside. Rawte paced around Pratik like a unleashed lion, and even though the kid was shaking, he did not say a word.

“I am scared.” Shree walked around to stand near him, Chotu on the other side. The Commando raised his eyebrows at his friend’s comment.

“What if he hurts him?” They all had a front row seat when ACP Arjun Suryakant Rawte had punched a goon, Pathan lala, outside a court in broad day light. It took months with the hearing, suspension, Rathore sir and other seniors yelling, reporters camping outside ETF building. It had barely quieten down, then this case fell on their laps.

“He won’t.” Shree was shocked at the confident tone of his boss, then looked at Chotu who shrugged, not understanding the issue. The two were at logger heads all the times, and yet they cared about each other and had deep faith on their ability. Rathore turned from the glass wall towards his subordinates, opened his mouth to speak something when he saw a new person walking into the hall.

Dustin coelho, ex Commissioner and current mentor in Police academy, Pune, strolled into the office, his footsteps light, hands in pocket. He had someone else behind him, and Rathore craned his neck to see the person. A woman walked in- in long coat, jeans, casual white shirt and flat sandal, with a bag which strap crossed over her front. She held onto the straps as she moved, eyes roaming around the officer.

Rathore moved to shake hand with his ex Boss, “Sir, it’s a surprise. How can we help?”

On cue, Rawte’s yelling rang through the office, making the ETF agents jump. The girl frowned, but had no indication of fear. Coelho looked over their shoulder.

“The help is all yours.” Then turned to the girl, who, now that Rathore saw her face clearly, was quite young. Most likely Pratik’s age, in her lower twenties. 21 or 22, at max. “Introduction first. This is Sameer Rathore, chief of this place.” The senior nodded at her to which she waved, lips pressed as if to give a smile, “She is Dr. Riya Mukherjee. A student in MNG college, where I give lectures occasionally.”

“What kind of doctor are you?” Shree asked, curious at the familiar surname. The girl, Riya, smiled brightly at him.

“It’s PhD. I have two, and studying for the third.” Rathore raised eyebrow at that, turning to Coelho who nodded in confirmation, “One is in criminal psychology, another is in Profiling. I am currently pursuing Geographical profiling, it’s very interesting. Dustin sir’s lectures help a lot. I think once I am done with this I should pursue forensic side.” The girl went on and on as she got lost in her plans, and only two men had any idea what she was talking about.

“What’s profiling?” Chotu asked. Riya turned to him, almost as if she did not notice him standing there at all. But before she could reply, her eyes fell on the white board full of evidence pictures behind them.

“Ooh, is that a murder board?” She rushed past the men, almost banging to Rathore as he jumped to give her way. Chotu ran behind her as Shree muttered, “It’s an evidence board, with photos of crime scenes, victims and CSI notes along with our notes.”

Riya turned to frown, “Like a murder board.”

Chotu laughed, jabbing a finger towards his colleague, “I told him the same thing.” The woman gave him a bright smile, then crunched down to see the Crime scenes photos plastered over the board. She winced at the bloody mess- the victim had a lot of cuts and injuries and was kicked from top floor and her body fell on a car, shattering the bonnets and windshields. But all of them could see her fascination as her fingers ran through them lightly.

“These photos are so bloody.”

“Yep.” Coelho sir walked to stand near her, “More NSFW.” She gave a smile, then dived into the pics again.

“Why don’t you tell them your theory?” Riya looked up at him blankly, but did not move. The older man sighed, fixing her with a look before turning to the ETF men in front of them, “You sent me the photos, right?” Rathore nodded at that. “She came near my desk post lecture, the photos fell. She took one look at the photos and said . . . “

Riya turned at the moment, halting the senior’s words, “Are you sure it is one person who killed her?”

Arjun Rawte, Department’s infamous angry young man with anger management issue glared at the useless actions in front of him. He had great respect for Coelho sir- he had heard a lot about him, even though he never worked with him. Once he retired, he was a mentor in Academy, wrote books, gave lectures on police work, criminal identification and prevention of large scale crimes. He even consulted on various central and state agencies during their tough cases. But his presence was not needed, especially when he tagged along a girl so young who was staring at the evidences and reports in fascination. Someone who is so young should not be surrounded by darkness on this type.

Besides, Pratik is about to crack anytime. He could feel it. He is probably waiting it out, hoping his Father’s army of lawyers can free him from here.

The girl, Dr. Riya as Rathore introduced her, looked up from the photos to stare at them all, “It’s three people.”

Coelho sir turned at her, “Sure?”

“Pakka.” She confirmed, drawing a smile from him, “The knife marks, just look at them.” She handed over pics to Sameer and Dustin smile, then put her legs up on the chair. She was so petite that she easily folded her legs under her body, sat with spine straight and fingers intertwined as if she is meditating.

“I thought you are studying profiling?” Rathore asked.

“I read books. A lot of google searches on bodies and entry wounds. My google search is concerning, if you think about it. As if planing a murder.” Coelho tapped twice on the round table, drawing her attention. The action was enough to stop her babble.

Rawte had enough, “What’s so special about the wounds?”

“There are three types.” Shree answered. He had noticed the moments he received the crime scenes photos from Central forensic department. As it was a rich man, everything had to be top notch. “One was precise, then it was choppy. Other one was in a hurry.”

“How much does he weighs?” Riya asked out of nowhere, looking directly as Sameer who was stumped, “The suspect, what’s his name?”

“Pratik.” Chotu supplied, earning a nod from her.

“He is thin, 5.6. Scared, stammers a alot.” Rathore replied, “But then, the situation is such.”

“People can’t hide emotions no matter what the situation is. Also, not like his girlfriend or wife died.” Riya said with a frown on her face.

“It’s a friend. It hurts just the same.” Rawte said harshly, irritated at her casual tone. She gave him a glance, but did not look like she was offended at his tone or she understood his dislike.

“I think the wounds are created by three people. One was precise, a clean cut on her throat,” Riya traced finger on the pic over the victims’s throat, and even though Rawte hated every moment of it he was drawn towards the table as she spoke, “He was confident. Probably planned for this. Might be a serial killer, or someone who is skilled with knife. Non veg eater, or maybe a cook. Someone who definitely lives alone. The choppy ones, had to be Pratik’s. He was egged on, and he was scared. Had no experience with slitting throats or knives, look like.” She frowned, angling the photo to look better, “Most likely was encouraged by his peers.”

“He was talked into this?” Rawte asked. Riya looked at him, shrugging.

“He still slit her throat. So . . . “ She looked at the pics again, drawing another one, “And then, we have this.”

“What’s interesting about this?” Coelho sir asked. Riya looked at him quickly before answering, taking time as she thought.

“It’s rapid. He stabbed her repeatedly, Bam bam bam!” She mimicked the action, “A lot of anger, it’s obvious though. I wonder if it’s cause he is a misogynist or he was a former lover. Or someone who had a crush.”

“You think the killer is misogynist by looking at the photos?” Shree asked, skeptical and yet curious. Riya opened her mouth, but Coelho sir answered.

“Killings, especially of women is most of the time is about power. By men. They want to show dominance, and dominance comes from fear or hatred. To show the men are better. Misogyny is not that far fetched if you think about it.” He looked at Rathore, “You have someone around Pratik with similar characteristics?”

“But the murder weapon is one.” Rawte was not on board with this, and was glad to see Rathore being on same page.

“They could share. Passing the knife.” Riya answered flippantly, making him inhale in anger.

“Assuming its three men, and they planned it all, that too on a rooftop in a crowded apartment building. Why not dispose the body? Why make a show of it?”

“When you create something new, interesting, you want the world to see it.” Riya said, smiling a bit, “This is their creation. Their mark on this world. Of course they won’t hide it. On the other side, dragging the body from apartment, take it in car, dump it somewhere was a lot more difficult. More chances of getting caught.”

“But why Pratik is not opening his mouth?” Chotu asked.

“Because he was the guy with hesitant cut marks. He was encouraged by his two other friends. Made a pact, maybe. Until the other two is not caught, he is safe. He just need to wait out all the shouting and threat of physical violence.” Giving a glance at Rawte for the last time, Riya looked at the photos once again, and said no word for the rest of the evening.

After a few beats of silence where ETF men were unconvinced, Rathore was dwelling and Coelho sir smirked at the scene in front of him, the ETF chief ordered, “Bring his friends. Each and everyone of them. Make a list from pre school to college, where he parties, where he goes for drugs,where he goes for shopping or having sex. Bring them all in.”

It did not take much after that. Pratik’s two other friends Rishi and Sajid were caught, they confessed quickly. Riya’s theory was correct- Rishi was the woman hater, Sajid was the cook in a reputed restaurant, which specialized in non-veg. Rathore stood with Coelho sir as the trio were dragged out, and Riya looked around as if she did not care about three criminals going to jail, bouncing on her feet.

Outside, Rathore volunteered for a dinner treat and Coelho sir was gently coaxing Riya to come with them. The ETF chief stood silent, hoping she will come.

“I need to write papers.” Riya whined, dragging feet on the street as she clutched her bag strap. Her long hair was tied loosely and small strands frame her face.

“You don’t sleep, you can make up later.” The senior man spoke, “Just get in the car. I will drop you.”

She sighed, seemingly giving up, “I want veg.”

“Of course.” Coelho sir gave a look to Rathore, who smiled.

The whole dinner the two men laughed, talked about working days and old memories, and Riya stayed silent, concentrating on her food as her eyes remained fixed on plate. Rathore glanced at her every now and then, fascinated on how she conducted herself back in office, and Coelho looked at the two, smirking inwardly. Riya was like a prized possession of his- a great student who actually listened, took interests in subjects and read books- from philosophy to hardcore physics. Even though she did not like science much except for Biology.

“Why not science?” Sameer asked, being a mathematics student himself. Riya did not look up, concentrated on her ice cream as she took a scoop carefully.

“Science is very cut out, it’s already out there. One just need to figure out what formula to put where and answer will be readymade.” She paused once she took a mouthful of ice cream which was almost liquid by now, nodding at the taste as the two men shared looks, “Biology though, its interesting. Hundred of people can test a body and even then they can’t figure out cause of death. Once body is decomposed, or exhume, autopsy is as good as dead.”

“I disagree. Once we send reports to States, or Interpol maybe, we get answers.” Dustin sir pointed out, to which she shrugged.

“Maybe you don’t have equipment. Or the good people.” The men did not take offense. They knew the shortcomings they worked with, which reminded Rathore he need to push more for a full fledged forensic team for ETF. They have waited on independent labs, state or central labs for too long which drags cases.

“Point is, biology is nice. More interesting.” She concluded, and proceeded to remain silent again. Unable to help himself, Rathore turned to her, forgetting his food. Riya looked startled at the attention.

“You have two Phds, you look up crime scene photos in google, you know about wounds and murder weapons.”

“That was a calculated guess.”

He brushed it aside, “What makes you interested in this? And why profiling? It’s not even used in this country.”

She perked up at the word, “You know?”

“Riya, he was my student.” Dustin pointed out, making her whip at him to look, “Besides, training is a thing. We are not from stone age.” He teased, and she took no offense at that, more interested in someone else who understood profiling.

“I don’t know much, and also its not really used here. We handle mostly domestic cases, suspects are easily found. Profiling is more for tough cases as far as I have read. Serial killers, terrorists.”

“That’s not true.” Riya jumped excitedly, “You can use it even for domestic cases. Like today.”

“He would have cracked sooner or later, Riya.” Coelho inserted.

“His parents would have arrived. Lawyers would have sued for mental harassment.” Riya turned to Sameer again, “Profiling narrows down suspects, saves time. The issue is not many people knows about it, making it a permanent thing is hard.” She shook head sadly, looking down at her ice cream again.

“Tell him about geographical profiling.” Coelho nudged. At the look of interest on Sameer’s face, she sat up straight and started.

“It’s about finding possible location of killer. Where he lives, where he frequents, or works. There is a mathematical equation,” She looked for a pen in her bag after dragging a tissue, and absent mindedly took a pen Dustin offered. Scribbling down a long and complicated formula, she started to explain.

“It’s mostly use for incidents which happened more than 2. Multiple offenses can be narrowed down. There is hot zone, most likely a suspect’s place, then there are possible zones.”

“How can we be sure the suspect lives around this location?” Sameer inquired.

“Psychologically, a serial criminal won’t venture into new locations where he don’t know how it works. He will like a place which he knows better, where police station is, if the neighbors venture out at night, till what time that ciggerette shop is open at night. It has to be a place where he lives, or work, or frequently goes for xyz reasons. Of course, there is exceptions.” Riya paused.

“For example if criminal is moving as he commits crime. Maybe he has a mental issue, or dumping bodies as trails. Hookers found dead in hotels, or women violently assaulted and killed. Seemingly normal men mugged and shot dead on their ways.” Dustin added.

“But in those cases too we can use this, right?” Sameer asked with a theory in head, “If we follow trail, use profiling and look into his history, we can find where he is probably heading. A special place where something happened, a life altering event in his life.”

Riya beamed which he returned, and Coelho laughed, “Told you, he was a smart one.”

Rathore sat with Coelho sir in the front seat and Riya took the back, immediately taking out a book from her bag and started to read it. The senior navigated the way, and Riya absently bade goodbye as she got out of car, waving hand as she walked. The men waited until she knocked on the door, and an older woman came out. Once Riya was inside and the door was closed, they drove again.

Rathore shook his head in amazement as he drove, “Where did you find her?”

“She was born with google in her head.” Coelho sir deadpanned, adjusting his coat as he moved on car seat, “I give lectures, you know. In many places, I don’t even remember the places sometimes, and I doubt even the students cared or understood what I said. One day I find this girl standing near my desk post lecture, bouncing on feet. Rambling about my lectures she read online and how it’s connected to her study, how it helped her a lot. For a good 5 minutes I could not speak anything.” Both men chuckled at that, “You saw how she goes. I have now narrowed it down to a pretty great deal to stop her mind and focus on stuff.”

“She is a genius or something?”

“I told her to take a test, she denies.” The car paused on a signal and the ETF chief turned in question, “Vehemently. Repeatedly. Said if the test shows she has higher IQ that the rest of us, that would mean she don’t work hard. Her knowledge is not her effort, just chemicals in her brain.”

“It’s interesting.”

“How thought process is not what you and I go by.” Coelho paused, “The moment she said about multiple killers, I had to bring her in. And you saw how she helped.”

“Indeed.” The former nodded.

Being an ETF chief is hard and all time consuming- meetings, handling Rawte, overseeing cases, interacting with people, making reports. A lot of reports. Dr. Riya Mukherjee was barely in his head, until a month later the team got a case. Seemingly random home invasion slash murder. It should be a local police case, open and shut. But of course it was a wife of an influential person, hence ETF had to intervene.

It pretty much looked like burglary gone wrong, until Rawte pointed out the lady’s jewellery, even expensive clothes were stolen. Like which thief even steals cloth, and how he or she can identify which one is expensive and which one is not. How did the thief even carry the jewellery, cash and the dresses? There were no CCTV around which was a bummer, and once it was established that some foul play was there, the list of suspects were even narrower.

Fifth day after Rawte brooded at the lack of progress and the juniors looked like they are anticipating an upcoming fight between the two alpha males, Rathore got up from his seat and took off, without informing anyone.

Dr. Riya Mukherjee jumped on her seat and turned when a familiar male voice said, “Hello, again.” The other students gawked and whispered at the officer with pistol, but she merely frowned at the man she had never thought will see here.

“Chief Rathore, how come you are here?” She stood up.

“I need help.” He looked around, “Can we go somewhere else?”

The duo sat on a bench of college garden as Riya went through the crime scene pictures, Rathore looking at her face patiently for any clue.

“This is not a home invasion.” She spoke after a long time. Rathore smiled a little, they had already guessed it.

“Why you said that?”

“The glasses.” She pointed at the broken glasses of the main door as he craned his neck to see, “Assuming the thief broke in, and then suddenly the lady turned up. When you punch a glass, the broken shreds should be on the other side. But here, they look evenly distributed.” She looked up at him, “Was there any DNA on them?”

Rathore shook head, “There should be. I think the person cut his finger. Or her.”

“The thief stole clothes too.” At that information, she frowned and let out a ‘Huh’, but said nothing.

“I think it’s someone she knew. Like knew very very well. Look, she was even making tea.” Riya brought the picture close, “The liquor looks like it was kept on oven for a long, long time. The suspect probably turned it off.”

At that, Rathore stood straight, “We all thought she was making it for herself before the thief turned up. Maybe she let him or her in, maybe she heard something.”

“No, look at the line around the pan. The water was boiled for a long time, you take that much water when there is someone else with you.” She frowned again, “That’s cinnamon, right?’

“Yes.”

“Thief likes cinnamon tea.” She gave back the picture.

Unlike the last case, Riya did not give any physical idea of the suspect. When asked if there was any symbolism behind stolen clothes, she shrugged and said, “I don’t think so”. The husband confirmed the victim liked plain tea, and when he asked if the former knew someone who was into cinnamon tea, he could feel his team mates look at him with various shades of ridicule.

But those did not matter when they found the killer. Turned out, it was a male friend of hers whom she had met weeks before in a party. He had a history of violence, was in desperate need of cash. Like a total sociopath, he meticulously planned for the murder, and took the clothes just to confuse the police. The whole procedure took hours and Rathore forgot all about mannerism when he called Dr. Mukherjee at 2am.

“Thank you for your help.” He said sincerely.

“Did the clothes have any meaning?” She asked, sounding a bit distracted. He could also hear some shuffling and typing as he spoke.

”No, it did not.” He looked at the digital watch of office and cursed internally, “I am so sorry to call you this late.”

“It’s fine.”

“Why are you up?”

“My paper. Research takes time and typing and editing and reediting.” At the words Rathore laughed. Just when she was distracted enough to cut the call without any goodbye message he asked.

“Would you like to join ETF, Dr. Mukherjee?”

She dropped the phone.

Rathore stewed almost a week, hoping for an answer- expecting a strong yes, but also expecting a no. But the elusive Dr. Mukherjee had vanished, did not check his messages or replied. He wondered if he had scared her, and called Coelho sir on a slow word day to ask.

He was laughing even before the Chief had started, “I knew you were going to do it.”

“I think I scared her. She went no contact.”

“She is thinking. She came to ask me this morning.” Rathore tapped his finger in impatience at the piece of information.

“What you said?”

“Why you think I brought her in ETF?” The former asked smugly.

Dr. Riya Mukherjee walked into the cabin of Chief Rathore hesitantly, and she did not know who was more surprised at her presence. She had thought a lot, almost saying no- her Mother don’t like it, and she did not know about chasing criminals or handling a gun, and then Dustin sir said she can use the opportunity for research, and that easily made the decision for her.

“Please have a seat.” The Chief motioned politely. She pressed her lips to give a smile, bouncing on steps.

“It’s fine. I have questions.” At his nod she continued awkwardly, “Do I need to interrogate criminals or shoot them?”

He smiled at that, “I don’t expect you to.” She exhaled in relief at that, “Dr. Mukherjee . . . “

“Riya, please.”

He nodded, “Riya, I want you here as an extra set of eyes. You have a wide variant of knowledge, you helped us in last two cases just by looking at things differently. I want you to take this opportunity to start using Profiling in cases. If it looks good, we can introduce it formally to department and take it forward to make it official, so that others can use in their actual, day to day works.”

She thought for a while, and he continued, “If you agree- go downstairs, make ID card for you. I will see on on next Monday.”

Nodding, she quietly left the room.

Rawte was summoned to the Chief’s cabin two days before Dr. Mukherjee was supposed to join. Expecting it to be another verbal fight, he mentally braced himself and sharpened some of his usually used skills, but when he entered, he was confused at the serene, hopeful face of his Boss.

“Have a seat, Rawte.” He did, wondering what was going on. For a moment he thought Rathore had a transfer and this was some goodbye talk.

“I wanted to let you know before it’s official on Monday.” At the former’s nod Rathore continued, “I have asked Dr. Mukherjee to join us as consultant from next week.”

That was not at all what he thought, worse was the idea, “She? She is young, Rathore. Not made for this field.”

“She is going to consult, Rawte, not shoot people.”

“Why? If you needed extra staff . . . “

“She has an unique eye. She helped alot in last cases.” The plural made him realize where the Chief went that day. “I think she will be useful”

Rawte stared at the boss for a long time, before gritting out, “Why you are telling me if you have already made a decision?”

Rathore sighed, “As a Chief, I made a decision which I felt was best for team. I am telling you this as a former colleague, Rawte, despite our differences. Take it as order, request, whatever you feel. Just let her . . . be, okay? Don’t punish her for being different.”

The only person who was happy about Dr. Mukherjee joining was Chotu, aka Patil. He shook her hand as he grinned, side eyed at the sour face of his colleague and friend. Shree handed her over work laptop, and after getting the direction of record room, the Dr. Took off.

“She calls the white board as murder board, why is she needed?” He complained.

“She is smart.”

“Bookish knowledge is not equivalent to putting it in use for real situations.”

“Ooh.” Chotu put an arm around the tech expert as he tried to shrug off, “is that what jealousy sounds like?”

Riya sat on the dusty floor of the record room, laptop in lap and surrounded by files as she made notes. The room echoed with the sound of typing, and when she heard footsteps she slowed down her speed.

“ACP Arjun Rawte.” She looked up and saw the man himself towering over her, a frown of confusion and irritation on his face.

“How did you know it was me?”

“People have different sound when they walk. Their way of moving, the shoes, their pace are different.”

He raised eyebrow, “So you know it was my just by my pace?” She shrugged in response, looking at her laptop again.

“You could seat outside.”

“This room is nice. The files are at the reach of hand . . . “She was cut off when the ACP burst out.

“Why you are here? Are you seriously going to interrogate deadly suspects and get a confession from them?”

She looked at him calmly, “Why is that so improbable?”

“I don’t think you have enough experience.” He spoke, triumphant, “You are a doctor.”

“Is that because of my age or my gender?”

He glared, inhaling sharply. “I did not mean that.”

“Good.” Her face become blank again, “Cause you should never underestimate a woman.” With that last sentence, she went back to her laptop, leaving the ACP seething. The conversation went from on point to another in no time, had no conclusion or answer, and she was quick to answer, to pretend he did not exist more than for seconds for her. There, she just sat on floor and kept typing as if he was not right there, standing not five feet away from her.

Even when he is at his worst, he gets attention. Whatever it was in her head kept her busy enough that she neither noticed nor cared for him. ACP Rawte was not used to that.

He walked away, and she did not even glanced.