Das (aur basss)

Dr Mukherjee has always observed people- profiling is more about seeing people and behavioral patterns than theory, Dustin sir always said. She looked at people- their attires, how they style their hair, if their nails are clean, their shoes and sizes, the accessories they carry, how they speak, how they stand, if they shift their eyes or intertwine their fingers. In crime scene, she looks at the entry wound, if there is any weapon, the dumping site of body, the condition of the same. Things like these narrows down suspects, helps her to understand what she is dealing with, and of course, write her paper better.

But now that she has killed a person, the habit is more to keep her mind off how her hands still feel warm with blood and mind plays the doctor’s word on loop- he’s dead. Her attention is on the new arrival in ETF, Aisha K, who had joined them post the gunman case. This development came out of nowhere and none could tell who was more uncomfortable with this- the officer or ETF OGs, as Liza described them.

Aisha arrived on day 1 with clenched jaw and stiff posture, hating the injustice of it all that the agency which ruined her career chances is where she will have to work now. To Rathore’s credit, he gave her a wide berth. (Come to think of it, he has always been better to people who’s last name wasn’t Rawte.) After the first day, she kept her distance, spoke to none apart from work. She came on time with impeccable dressing, left once work was done, obsessed over a point which she felt was right and doggedly pursued that, making her case. There was a case where they found a body in the middle of nowhere in an abandoned car and she started to walk in a random direction, away from everyone and informed nothing.

“Where is she going?” Shree whispered aloud

“To that side.” ACP Rawte said, and started to go towards the direction himself- a lone house not faraway from dump site.

As days passed, Riya started to observe more and more, and If Aisha noticed the strange woman’s stare all day long, she didn’t reveal. But it was wrong and intrusive, and Riya knew she had to stop.

And someone else was noticing her too.

Arjun cleared his throat just to give her a heads up before speaking, both of them heading for ETF from the local ps which had the jurisdiction of the body in car location. “You spoke to someone?”

They don’t pretend, hence Riya turned to him without hesitation or pretending not to know what he asked. There was a rare lightness in her eyes.

“Someone who’s not you?”

He ignored the jibe. “Did you?” When she didn’t answer, he gripped the steering wheel tight before speaking. “There is a doctor . . . If you want I can give you the details. He can help you.” When he turned to look at her, she was frowning, “He was recommended to me. During my . . . “ frustrated, he exhaled, “Departmental doctor. Now that you are part of ETF it will cover your expenses. Maybe it can help.”

“was it recommended during the minister punching incident?”

“How do you . . . “ shaking head, Arjun replied, “never mind. You should go.”

“I don’t think people like me and you are meant for words. “ Riya mused aloud.

This is coming from two times PhD holder?”

“Putting words on a paper is different. Speaking to a stranger about how I killed someone?” she shook head, “Its ok.”

“Are you?” the former looked up at the sharp tone, “Are you okay?”

Nobody can come back from that, they both knew. But this wasn’t a simple question, was it.

“What defines okay? I am functioning- physically, mentally and intellectually. I don’t zone out during meeting, I am not forgetting my research or whatever I know in this field. I implement them during work. I eat on time, when I cross a road I look at the signal. I wake up, go to work and come back. Nobody can suspect a thing. There are days I forget what happened. Then suddenly . . .”

“Then suddenly, out of nowhere,” Arjun spoke as if on trance, rendering her speechless. “you remember. And you freeze. The moments feel like it never passed, like you are stuck in it. You can’t breathe for a moment. Then something happens- someone speaks loudly, a car honks nearby, song plays loudly on a speaker. And you are out, just like that.” Their eyes met Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

He gave a card and made her look into his eyes, “You will go. You will.”

She nodded hesitantly.

It’s interesting how mind can stuck on someone who it don’t even know. If Riya didn’t go to that place, she wouldn’t have witnessed the shooting. If she wasn’t there, she wouldn’t have hidden behind a table, and when discovered, wouldn’t have taken the gun and killed him. She don’t know him, their paths never crossed before. Knowing or not knowing him didn’t change anything in her life, wouldn’t have changed the course of her life. And yet, she can’t let go. She understands the logic behind ACP Rawtes words – he was a criminal. A killer. Keeping aside the argument on if he deserved his right to live despite killing others or not, she didn’t hurt a good person. And yet, it feels like she has taken something from Universe, something that shouldn’t have been done. There was an imbalance in the world now- she changed the course of Destiny by defending herself, and now there has to be something to restore it. Along with the dead shooter, this was something which haunted her dreams.

These days, she can’t trust herself to sleep more than 2 hours. It’s good that she at least don’t wake up screaming.

Riya was absent mindedly bouncing a basket ball between her hands, the court as usual empty around her. The abandoned body in car case was still ongoing, and as they had very less data apart from autopsy, there is nothing much for her to do anything. ACP Rawte was right when he said she needs more body to make data, as crude as that sounds. If this is not the start of a series, which looks like it isn’t – the team is working on identifying the body first as no id was found on her, and they had a common theory of this being an one off revenge shooting done by someone close to victim- she don’t have much profile to make. It depends upon the victim”s identity, the people around her, then build a suspect list and go from there. Her research paper was suffering too, along with the possibility that she will go to a department appointed doctor to speak her heart out.

She would have named it anxiety if she didn’t know what it was scientifically.

There was footsteps behind her and the ball slipped between her hands. ASP Aisha stood there, a packet of cigarettes in hand. Riya had opened her mouth to stop her from lighting it up, but stayed quiet and gave her a nod.

 She blew out a mouthful of smoke and rested her scrutinizing eyes on the former, “Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

She shivered internally. Of course, that was rude and the officer had noticed. “I a . . . I am sorry.”

“That isn’t the answer I want.” She smirked, “Do you expect me to burst or something?”

“No! No no. . Um of course not.” Stammering, she hastened to apologise again, “I am really sorry for being rude.”

“Once again, not the answer.”

Riya thought quickly for an answer which can pass for this uncomfortable situation, “Er. . You are. . . New?”

At least, the ASP was amused, “Is that so?”

“It won’t repeat again.”

“Okay.” She agreed easily, dropping ashes near her feet, “You are a profiler, right?”

“No. . . Not yet. I am p . . . “

“Yes I heard about that. PhD, impressive. You must be a genius.”

“No, I am not.” She looked down at her ball, slowly bouncing it up and down, the thack sound of ball hitting the concrete echoing around them. “I like to read.”

“And you remember those, think of something new, find words and put that on paper. That counts for something.” Aisha finished firmly, “You think you can make a difference here? No offense, I am surprised someone like you are really here, shadowing the team.”

“Rathore sir felt if we initiate profiling in day to day cases and it achieve success, the department can try to implement it properly.”

“And you will have a main role in that. Good decision.” Aisha sounded pleased, “But don’t hold your breathe for it. Things takes here take time.”

“Do you believe it because . . .” Riya stopped, but the implication was clear. Cursing herself in head, she opened her mouth to apologise. She’s making the ASP uncomfortable, with the staring first, now this rudeness.

“How do you work with men with that lack of filter?” snorting, she answered, “Nah, department works real fast when they want to cover their bases. Punishment to folks who didn’t deserve it, try to show netaji their annual Reports, standing in front of media with their puffed up chests and false sense of vigor. It just don’t work to actually work. “

“I am sorry about your UC op.”

“And now,” Aisha threw the cigarette on ground, crushing it twice, “I am working here. Isn’t it the kicker?”

Liza had told her one day – ‘You will see, she will fit right in with all of them.’ And she had asked, ‘why you said that?’ and Liza had replied, ‘You will see. No extra addition to the Outcast club of ETF, two members only’. Riya had wondered about that as she had stared at the officer- which, after that basketball court conversation, she tried hard to stop. She was back to books, and she didn’t really have to stare. The ASP spoke to her, asked questions about the books she read, her stream- not just for politeness, she was genuinely interested. It kept Riya’s mind occupied for a while, kept the noises out. ACP Rawte had finally gave her an ultimatum to go see the doctor, and she was mentally preparing herself- today evening, she told herself.

Then Shree walked in with the victim’s identity from abandoned car case, he had pulled out all the reports of the victim- mobile number, address, background, education, friends, family, every single details. Over a period of few hours the team went through the reports, and then Shree found a text message, the last one victim had sent to her family before her death, five minutes prior to the most likely time of death. The team narrowed down suspects based on original profile- had to be young, agile (the car was abandoned and they had a theory the murderer walked a few KM before taking a lift), close to victim- they were quite away from the victim’s address and she was driving- familiar with the city, well versed in weapons, had deep hatred for the victim, and yet, cared enough that post shooting her, the killer fixed her dress and hair to make her look presentable. They were going through a list of male suspects when Aisha took one look at the message, and made a sound of distress.

“The translation is wrong.”

Shree looked up, first at her then to the seniors. He replied, hesitate to speak with the new officer, but sure of the work he has done.

“I ran the translator.” The message was in a south indian language.

“The gist is correct. But it’s not accurate. It’s lost in translation- the literal meaning of this is ‘I am with her' not ‘him’. A female. She was with a female.” When others didn’t look convinced she pressed on, “People have different ways of speaking, right? Languages and dialects are different. How she has written that message Indicates it’s a woman who was with her, not a man.”

“You know the language.” Arjun observed, to which the former nodded. The rest of them turned to Riya- as if she was the judge of what the ASP said and can give judgement on that.

“She’s right about dialect. Things get lost in literal translation, linguistics can be different based upon geographical areas and manner of speaking..”

“That will make sense with the profiling too.” Chotu mused, “Victim will trust a female friend to go in a deserted area like that.” At others nod he added, “The killer fixed her dress and hair too. Definitely someone who knew her better and whom she knew.”

All these from a last message, list of victim’s family and friends. They didn’t even interview anyone and ETF was halfway done with the case. Just with the presence of street smart mind, years of actually being on field and doing this job everyday. While she waited on data. She probably would have reached on the female murderer conclusion too, but after a long time. She would have just sat here and waited.

She knew the language Aisha was referring to.

She understood Liza now.

In the evening, she denied to leave with ACP Rawte, who looked pleased with the implication of it. She had the card, she had made the appointment, she hailed a cab and headed towards the destination.

And yet . . .

She arrived at the wrong one. Or maybe it was right somehow. The familiar prison door, the constables who knew her, the same greetings and hallways which awaited her.

This time, she used her University issued ID card for research purposes.

Damre looked up from a book he was reading, stood up and walked next to the prison bars of his cell, not touching. His focus was same as she remembered- intense, all consuming, focused.

“Hello, Doctor.”

She sat down outside the cell.

For the first time in her life, she had to hide. Hide her feelings, hide from people, hide her thoughts. What she was doing was wrong, and that’s the reason she had used her University ID card and not the ETF one. On the other side, she had people who would notice now. Her mother never particularly cared – there was never a time Riya remembered her being warm, genuinely interested in her emotions or dreams. For years in her life, she was used to it. Maybe that’s why this lying, this deception feels so wrong. Nobody cared before. People did now. She's deceiving them all. 

So she tried to distract herself. Forcing herself to read more. She was always a voracious reader, but now she went through books and case files of ETF as if the there was a deadline. Started writing again. When the noises in her head became too loud, she typed on her laptop faster and tried to listen to others voice.

And sometimes she thought what was wrong with her, Going back to Damre.

“You were great the other day.” She complimented Chotu over coffee one afternoon during a slow work. The abandoned car case was slowly closing in. Based upon Aisha’s inputs they had narrowed down suspects, female as per the message. Riya knew there was nothing else for her to do, and maybe that stung. But then, she’s not the only person working here. It’s a part time thing for her, a means to an end. For ASP Aisha, Rathore sir and others, it’s their job.

“Thanks.” Chotu was amused as he sipped his machine made tea. “But please be specific, over what?”

“Ah. That hair and dress part of body.”

“Well, I am trained by a professional profiler.” Before she can protest gently, he added, “I know, not yet. But you are getting there.”

 And maybe Chotu meant beyond the well intentioned words. Noticed her tired eyes which had nothing to do with studies, the way her lips trembled before smiling, or the way she seemed to fold on herself. So he offered, “You want to meet my Mother?”

She was surprised, “Does she wants to?”

“At least once a day, she asks me about that sweet girl from my office she spoke over video call.” He chuckled, slightly awed at the similar expression on her face. As if she can’t believe it, “So?”

“Tonight?” she was excited.

“Tonight?” before she can backtrack, he pressed, “Sure. Tonight.”

Sometimes Riya wonders if she isn’t meant for people. She always knew, on a surface level, that she’s social outcast. – the books , loneliness, being the quiet one. When a parent spends her life trying to stay as far away as possible, it does something to a child. Psychology told her that, and apart from the theory she felt that was okay too. She’s introvert, and people don’t like her. After all, who would want to know about random, meaningless things anyway.

Tonight, as she sat on a wooden bench of a police station, she wondered maybe this has nothing to do with her being socially inept. She’s not meant for people because people gets hurt. Shree was hurt when she was there. She killed a people. She wasn’t careful about reports and ACP Rawte was mad about violation of privacy. She made Aisha uncomfortable. Liza – she didn’t manage to screw that up yet, but givs it time. Soon she will realise it’s better for her to keep her distance.

With a shudder, she looked up. Rathore sir was striding right at her, dressed in all white kurta pajama – appropriate clothing was overrated when it’s 12 am and you get a call from a sobbing colleague. Standing next to her, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

His eyes were blazing fire.

“You okay?” she nodded at that quickly, feeling tears drying over her cheeks. Several policemen walked past them, glancing at them. “Chotu?”

“They took him away.”

His nostrils flared “Any senior officer?” When she shook head, he cursed under breath, squeezed her shoulder and walked a few feet away to make a call.

The officer in charge was summoned, and Riya tried to unhear the abuses that came out of his mouth.

There is a law which has been in constitution for decades about vetting civilians at any time, any place, for any reason. It don’t fall under terrorism act, there has been debates which shows this act is a mean to harrass people and works on the whims of officers on duty. And yet it remains, like several thousands other laws in the constitution which adds nothing to benefit the people. Riya tried to think hard where she had gone wrong tonight. Chotu offered to give her lift, they both were wearing helmets as they rode his Royal Enfield bike. It was 10 pm. They stopped at all signals. When a checking point came they were stopped. He had all the papers- license, emission, RC card. They even did breathanalizer test even though there was no need. Then an officer asked for them to handover their mobile phones- for safety purpose, he said. Chotu denied. He didn’t even inform about his profession, he didn’t have his ID card and he didn’t feel after all the documents and tests and questioning they went through, this was needed. And maybe that was the time they went wrong. There was nothing on their phones, they knew that. But it was principles, and he was right on his point. The law explicitly said “if a citizen wants, they can hand over their electronic devices for checking” and they gave no consent.

They roughened him up and took her laptop and bags, and it’s been hours since she saw him. She had to show her phone in the end, and that’s how she managed to call Rathore at last, hiccupping and sobbing throughout the short call. She will apologize to Chotu later, she couldn’t stand by what he felt was right thing to do.

Rathore sat down next to her, and when she managed to calm down herself, she felt him vibrating with rage. Quietly he asked her what happened, and she narrated the incidents as briefly as possible. Once she was done, they sat in silence, waiting for the upcoming storm.

The officer in charge arrived, panting as if he had ran a few miles.

Rathore stood up slowly.

Arjun couldn’t explain it, this sudden restlessness tonight. He picked up the phone after lots of debating and snatching away fingers at last moment, trying to sound as unaffected as possible.

The call was picked up on first ring as usual.

“Still working on paper?” He tried not to exhale in relief. He was being stupid – his sixth sense need more cutting chai. Or sleep, no matter how much tough that is

“Uh,” she cleared throat, “no. Not really.”

His lips quirked upwards, “Then?”

She took a few moments extra to reply and he knew this sixth sense, like as usual, was right

“What’s wrong?”

There was a deep breath, but nothing. Arjun’s heart sped up.

“Where are you?” there was no answer, and he growled. “Riya.”

She mumbled the address of a police station, and he ran out of his hotel room.

Rathore and Arjun stood inside a make shift “custody room” of the police station, Chotu sitting on a chair opposite them. Rathore, surprised at first by Rawte’s arrival, filled him on things quickly. He had straightened out the OC by grilling him to the end of Earth, and the pathetic excuse of a man had blamed it all on his subordinates. Went on a power trip and lost their minds, he had said.

Rawte looked like he wanted to give them all an actual idea of how losing mind looked like.

The issue was – they had filed a chargesheet. Thankfully, not for Riya- apparently she had gotten away by finally showing them her call records and messages. Till Rathore arrived and bashed the OC left right and center they had no idea about Mr C Patil’s job, and now they can’t really get away with this. Rathore had half a mind to settle things here, albeit going in round about way. Pulling some strings and ending this tonight so that this strong man and the woman who was shivering outside the room can go home tonight.

“You want me to ask for forgiveness?”Chotu’s eyes were sharp, and for the first time Rathore contemplated that Targeted violence directed at an individual or a group should be legal. These fukers had hurt him, his clothes were rumpled, face bruised and he had an overall dishelved look. All this just because he didn’t show his damn phone during a checking.

“No.” He replied, “But I also don’t want this to drag out in court. They know they screwed up.”

“They know it because you are here.” Rawte pointed out. “What did the OC say, he will tear away the charge sheet himself?”

“We both know there are ways to end this matter.”

“They screwed up, and they know it because I didn’t tell them where I work.” Chotu growled. “They are not remorseful, they don’t accept their mistakes. All the want to do was harass us- and why is that? I have lived in this city my entire life, and suddenly 10pm on a weekday is an excuse to check for alcohol and forcefully check phones? Did they find cocaine on Riya’s phone?” He looked away, face darkening, “Things would have been different if she wasn’t with me. But then, I don’t think I would have been stopped if I was alone.”

The seniors looked at each other, “What you want to do?” Rawte asked.

“I want to sit here and watch as they try to drag me to court. I don’t care about how long it stretches.” With a touch of worry, Chotu added, “I am sorry sir not letting it end.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rathore waved his hand.

But he did worry. He hired a lawyer and wanted a hearing within 48hrs, all the while glaring at all the officers who walked past him. Riya, once she got back her bags and laptop, refused to go home without Chotu walking out of here. Hence half the ETF staff spent a night in a police station without any fault of case to work on. The only one who can actively show emotion was Rathore. Rawte reigned himself in – he knew this wasn’t the time he can rage his way through some thing. Riya tried to focus on Chotu, all the while beating herself up over things. If only she didn’t go to his house. If only she didn’t stay late. If only she took a cab.

Arjun kept asking himself as he saw her from the corner of his eyes – what was that feeling which made him call her at the dead of a night and why he had that? That uneasiness, the picking up of heartbeat, the tingling in his finger tips and feeling his stomach will drop anytime.

What is that?

It was upto ASP Aisha to hold the fort for ETF one day- Rathore didn’t explain anything to anyone, them leaving here was important and above everything else. An exaggerated news of ETF officer arrested with rash driving and drugs kn system was out and he had already gotten a mocking call from Sakshi Anand. If he had any sense of calmness left in him, he would have answered back something. It’s only his manners which didn’t let Him yell shut the fuk up over the call.

Thankfully, they got a last minute slot at court. One look at the judge, and Rawre cursed himself.

“Lord.” Rathore rubbed his face as Riya looked at the two, clueless. “Can we please have mercy?”

Apparently this was the same judge during who’s session Rawte had punched a goon outside courtroom. Come to think of it, this very court was his wrestling ground. The judge remembered him too, going by the stink eye and disdain evident in his face. The filmsy case was dismissed in an hour, but he played a last minute master stroke- apparently the bail amount would be 2.5 lakhs for Chotu to be out.

“2.5?!” He was outaged. “Am I a risk for society in their eyes? This is insane, I can’t afford that.”

“You will be out of here before this day ends.” Rathore assured him with a stare. After that vow, Rathore walked out.

Arranging money wasn’t that hard. Rathore contributed half of that, Arjun gave fifty thousand from his savings. The surprising part was Riya giving the rest of money, and Rathore protested in suspicion immediately. Maybe she asked from her mother, or maybe it’s from a fund she had kept for emergency. It didn’t feel right to take her money, even though it was well intentioned.

“It is my money.” When he didn’t take it, she looked down at her feet, words catching at throat, “Please. Let me do this “

Rawte shared a look with him and took the cash bundle from her hand.

“You know,” Rathore said to Chotu once they were out of court, both of them are alone as the senior drive him home. “this doesn’t end here. I am not sure about protocols for your department, but there has to be something.”

His spine straighten, “There will be an investigation.” Then lowering his voice, Patil said, “Is it wrong of ne to say I have faith on their procedures more?”

“The rules are different.”

“It shouldn’t be, right?”

“In an ideal society, whatever happened with you wouldn’t have happened as well “

“Is there any point in doing what we do everyday?” Chotu demanded. “The law is skewed, and often people from our side are the perpetrators. Do we even nake a difference?”

“We do “ Rathore said firmly. “I believe that.”

Maybe he believes that because as a boss, it’s his job to motivate his juniors. Or maybe he has faith – there are rotten apples in every groups. Or, maybe, he said that because that’s what helps him sleep better at night.

Riya don’t really cry. Sob ugly tears and yell her heart out, never did before. At times emotions get overwhelming, or she faces under immense pressure and tears keep flowing from her eyes. Last night was stressful hence she cries, but that was a momentary thing. She got it under control and kept herself in check for the rest of time.

And yet, as she sat inside car drive by ACP Rawte, the waterworks started. She didn’t understand it. Chotu was fine, they were going home, the incident was past them- as of now. There is no point in losing it now. She wasn’t certainly thinking about the checking, how she spent one night in a police station awaiting her friend’s condition, or the courtroom, still the tears fell. As if her eyes had a mind of its own.

Somewhat irritated with herself, she wiped at her cheeks. There was no need for these – tears don’t solve anything, her Mother always said. Trying to calm herself down so that she don’t make the situation awkward for herself and the ACP, she forced herself to look out of the window of moving car.

The car stopped outside her house, and just when she was about to move, there was a warm hand over hers.

It wasn’t known who was more surprised – Riya or Arjun.

She shuddered at the touch, and he frowned almost immediately.

“Why you always do that?”

“Do what?” she asked softly.

“This.” His thumb dragged inside her palm, reaching the tip of her thumb. As if on cue, she shivered again.

“Oh.” Embarrassed, she looked down.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” He was concerned. She shook head immediately.

“Not used to someone’s touch, I guess.” His hand gently let go, making her miss the loss of warmth.

“Are you hurt?” She shook head again. Arjun wondered what he can say to make it better. It’s evident how last night and the harrowing hours after that had shaken her – and why won’t it be? Forget being harassed by some asshole officers, this is the department she’s working in and want to make a place for her stream. It has to put a dent in her dreams. Can she ever look at a constable and not think about this night? Won’t she think if this department is even worth it. Didn’t she get an opportunity to teach abroad, won’t be the first time she got and won’t be the last time she receive either. Maybe one day she will realise she’s meant for better things and will leave.

The thought made him uneasy

“Those officers . . . Not everyone is like them.” He started , hesitant.

“I know that.”

“Don’t . . . Don’t think. . . “

“I won’t.” She tried to smile. “People vary everywhere. Anyways, I should have been careful. Should have left earlier, book a cab. That was a hassle for him too, drop me home.”

He stared at her in disbelief, speechless for a few moments once she was done. “You read a lot, right?”

She nodded, frowning at the odd question.

“There has to be a word for “person who loves to take blame for random things”. Do look it up and let me know.”

ETFians took the simple way to deal with what happened- beyond one glanxe of sympathetic look and a hug between Chotu – Shree, there was no mention of the same. The moment Riya pushed the door of forensic lab open, Liza ran to gave her a tight hug which lasted for a few moments. Then she started to explain about this autopsy she was doing, as if the hug didn’t happen.

The thing with Liza is she gets people. Gets their mind and accept it unconditionally, unlike Riya who needs a logic to follow through. Liza understands the need for silence, to escape- doesn’t mind that whenever the Dr comes to her kab, the ulterior motive for the majority of time is to escape other floor members. She lets it slide and pretend not to see, even help to pretend and let the show extend.

So when Riya sat on a chair and stared hard at the autopsy file without reading a single page, she didn’t comment on it, carried on with her monologue and constant flow of words. When Shree arrived, she pretended to be busy in some slides and hunched over a microscope, tried to appear as if she didn’t see or listening to them.

Sensing him, the Dr lifted her head and gave a small smile. He wasn’t having that. Shree don’t pretend- he was always clear on his likes and dislikes, told her from day one and let her feel that. He appreciates honesty above everything else, even if it stings.

“How are you?”

“Good. Good “ She nodded, forcefully trying to appear better. “How are you?”

“Me?" His voice rose slightly, “I wasn’t harassed on streets in a weekday for no fault of mine. You are asking about me?!”

“I should have asked before.” She replied quietly, trying not to think about the images his words conjured up. “You were at the hospital with me. After . . . The shoot out.”

It took him for a good few moments to get the meaning behind her words. When he spoke, he was absolutely confident of his statement.

“You are nothing like him.”

“You were hurt.”

“No.” his hand rose to cut her off. “You will end this right here. Right now. I will pretend that thought didn’t come out of your mouth.”

Sensing the tension, Liza made a show of cutting in between, carrying on her earlier comments on the body. The duo was forced to relax and appear to be engrossed in her lines, until she said, “her legs though . . . You think my calfs look fat?”

Shree was unfazed even though Riya turned to him for explanation. “They are fine.”

“You don’t think they need exercise?”

“I think you need to cut down the coffee.” Probably sensing he lost control of his carefully managed façade, Shree turned to Riya. “We should head back.”

Liza knew she was dismissed, but she had her facades too. *Yes, leave me alone in this empty floor.”

Riya rushed to soothe her with words, promised to visit soon, and he rolled eyes.

In the elevator, Shree asked in hesitation. “Why did you turn to look at me?” At the Dr’s frown, he added, “When Liza was talking about the body.”

He forgot to add Dr

“I did?” She tried to brush it off. “I was confused. At her Words.”

“No.” he shook head. “”You didn’t look at me with questions. You looked at me expecting an explanation. As if I would know something.”

She couldn’t look away.

Shree shifted his weight from one foot to another, thinking hard before saying. His words coming out in pauses. “Riya, there is nothing . . . If you are thinking . . . Me and Li . . .”

The elevator opened.

Riya started to visit the lab more- her new hiding spot now that the record room don’t hold the appeal. She knew the files, there was a new person and it felt like she would be called out on her behaviour any time, making others wait for an explanation. ACP Rawte with his therapist talk, Rathore sir asking about the money, Shree trying to clear about some pre conceived notion she might have (she had those, but she also knew the reason. He knew the reason too but he won’t admit) and Chotu wanted to clear air and give a version of talk what Rawte gave her – it’s not her fault.

But just because Liza don’t ask, doesn’t mean she don’t notice or won’t.

“Where is your paper? It didn’t appear on IJFSC this month.” International journal for forensic science and criminology was a renowned monthly journal published by a foreign University of UK and was a big thing in academia. Riya wrote once months ago and was supposed to submit another one, and that paper was all she worked on. Suddenly caught off guard at the topic, she looked up, meeting Liza’s grin, “I was waiting on it.”

“How did you know it was this month?”

“I am your number one fan.” She lifted her chin, waving a scalpel in air, “Is it postponed?”

“Ah, yes.”

“why?” there was a whine, Are not you done?”

“I think I need to rewrite it and resubmit.”

“The whole thing?” the scalpel hit her desk, “Seriously?” at her grimace, she narrowed eyes, then smirked. “I think you are Lying.”

Riya didn’t bother to protest. Quietly Sighing to herself she looked at her with apologetic eyes.

“I don’t have the paper.”

“Did you lose it?”

“I . . . “ she considered lying for a moment. Or maybe it won’t be a lie if she agrees to someone else’s wrongful assumptions and don’t correct them. But Liza was looking at her with sharp knowing eyes, having an inkling of something important was going on. Hence she told her the truth.

“I sold the paper.”

She blinked. “Sold? Like . . . For money?”

Riya nodded.

“wow.” She breathed out. “For how much?”

“50 thousand.”

She snorted. “I think you were ripped off. Should have been three times, at least “ then she was serious. “Who was it?”

“An old class mate.”

There was complete silence for a few moments as the implication set in. “was it for Patil?” Liza never called him with the nickname, said it didn’t suit him at all. Riya nodded once, slowly.

Some people she works with, Liza thought to herself. One goes to jail for defending other’s honor, another sells her thesis paper for money for the former. The boss hires the best lawyer and pays for it from his pocket, another terrorises an entire police station daring to threat his colleagues. And there was another man . . .

Maybe not the time to go there. She’s fine with bread crumbs anyway.

 “Does he know?”

Riya shook head.

“Does anyone knows?”

She shook head again.

Liza walked around her desk to stand next to her.

“I hope they knows how much you care.” bumping her shoulder playfully to lighten the situation, She added, “Next time you sell your paper, quote higher. If you can’t negotiate, call me. I bargain so hard.”

Riya laughed.

“I think they should know, how much you care. Will make this moment pointless, but I think they should. It’s a big deal, He must mean so much for you.”

“He shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“I think even if he was thousand miles away, he would have come. Everyone would have . . . Even Shree. He may not look like it.”

“He is fine.” She protested mildly, and Liza rolled eyes

“He hates change. Loathes it. New things, new people, he will resist change till it’s inevitable and hate every minute of it. Ironic considering the field he is in – IT is all about new languages and constant evolving.” Nobody asked how she knew him so well and nobody explained. “But he is not bad. He’s not . . . You know his face structure? It’s just . . . Khadoos.”

Caught by surprise, Riya burst out in laughter.

To tie up the abandoned car case, the team sans Riya headed towards the victim’s rented apartment to arrest her roommate. It was an easy case on surface once they – more like Shree as usual and Aisha- found out the victim’s identity and narrowed down a list of suspects. Before leaving, they all eyed the doctor. She don’t really care about ending something, the thrill for her was in the chasing and finding out the puzzle.

She didn’t do anything this time.

“I think you should crack her.” She hesitantly smiled at the ASP, who, caught by surprise, gave one in return slowly. “You called it.”

Aisha stood tall and suddenly had everyone’s approval.

“So, he took verbal and physical abuse from his colleagues . . . Not really his, but people from his department, because someone in checking wanted to have your phone.” Damre spoke slowly, enunciating each word. They were both seated on floor, separated by thick glass walls and bars.

“It was not about me. It was a violation of rule . . . He knows the law.”

“I think anyone else in his place would have beaten those officers and shown his badge.” He had a smirk now. “Is it that friend you talked about?”

Thing with Damre is – he has an impeccable memory. He don’t forget, he sees and hears everything and files it for later, and moments like this when other party is distracted, pull them out to extract more information. Action such as this reminds Riya who he really is, and she wonders what’s she’s trying to do here. Coming back here was a mistake, the more she spends time and talks the more this connection she’s established first is going to be deeper. She has several people who genuinely care about her, and yet she’s here.

There is truly something wrong with her.

“He is.” She didn’t want to talk about Patil anymore.

“Some friend he is.” Sensing her closing off, he let it go. “Friends like them should be protected.” He stopped abruptly, then spoke after a few beats has passed. “Whats the time?”

She frowned, looking at watch, “Its nin. . . “

A cold Shiver ran through her. It was late, she was once again outside and she was alone this time. She didn’t want to think. She wanted to gather her things and get out, but her body seemed to be frozen.

“Its late. Places aren’t safe post sunset. . . Even inside a prison.”

The softly spoken words jolted her into action. Hastily she grabbed her books, papers and bag, and almost ran towards the door before Damre stopped her.

“I want to hear music. Classical.”

“They don’t allow phone.”

There was a slow smile. “Goodnight, Riya.”