Chapter 5: A Heartbreaking Morning

It was 7 in the morning. The soft clinking of a tea cup on the wooden table accompanied the eerie silence as Pranav opened the autopsy report. The dim morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows over the room. Flipping through the pages, his fingers trembled slightly, and a single tear slid down his cheek as he read the horrific details of Anjali’s last moments. Each word etched a deeper sense of urgency and despair into his soul. The report confirmed what he had feared—her death was agonizing, and her final hours far more brutal than anyone could have imagined.

Pranav closed the report with a deep sigh, his mind racing through the details he had just absorbed. Just then, Thameem entered the cabin, his face reflecting a mix of concern and exhaustion.

“Sir, the entire area has been secured. The rain has stopped, and we’re ready to start investigating the sand road. But… Mr. Vargees has arranged Anjali’s cremation at the nearby church. It’s scheduled for 9 this morning,” Thameem said gently, trying to read Pranav’s expression. “But what’s bothering you, sir? What did the autopsy say?”

Pranav, still visibly shaken, glanced at the closed report. “We’ll go to the church first, Thameem,” he replied. “I’ll explain the autopsy later.” He stood up, gathering his strength, and both of them headed for their jeep.

The streets were quiet as Thameem drove towards the church, the only sound being the soft hum of the engine and the occasional chirping of birds that hadn’t yet adjusted to the tragedy that had struck the peaceful neighborhood. After a long stretch of silence, Pranav spoke, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth.

“Thameem, just think about it for a second. A 16-year-old girl, abducted by someone she knows, probably someone she trusted enough to follow… and then subjected to such cruelty. The autopsy shows she wasn’t killed immediately. She was tortured first.”

Thameem’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as he absorbed Pranav’s words. “Tortured?” he asked quietly, dreading the details to come.

“Yes,” Pranav continued, “she was assaulted, but not sexually. There were no traces of semen, but her body… it was covered in deep finger marks, though there were no fingerprints. Whoever did this must’ve worn gloves—thick ones. Her hair was torn out in patches, and her female organs were severely injured. But the worst of it, Thameem… they cut off almost five inches of her left foot while she was still alive. The final blow was from her own platinum chain. That’s what killed her.”

Thameem’s heart sank. He had seen his fair share of crime scenes, but nothing like this. His throat tightened as he tried to find his voice. “Sir… how… how could anyone do this to a young girl?”

Pranav’s eyes were cold but focused as he continued. “And the worst part—she wasn’t killed until about an hour before she was dumped. All of that… all of that suffering happened before she died. But there’s something even more important. The blood we found on the leaf and the plastic cover in the dump—it wasn’t Anjali’s.”

Thameem looked at Pranav, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Anjali’s blood type was A positive. But the blood on the leaf and the garbage cover is O positive. Someone else was there, someone who’s injured. That’s our only lead right now.”

As they drove on, Pranav’s words hung in the air, the horror of the situation settling deep in Thameem’s gut. Finally, the car slowed as they approached the towering gates of the church. The old stone building loomed before them, its high steeple casting a long shadow over the graveyard where a small crowd had gathered.

Mr. and Mrs. Vargees stood by the grave, broken beyond words, clinging to each other as if their combined strength could somehow hold together the pieces of their shattered lives. Friends and family members surrounded them, their faces etched with sorrow, but even the collective grief couldn’t compare to the devastation of losing a child.

Pranav and Thameem quietly walked through the graveyard entrance and joined the mourners. The air was heavy with the smell of incense and damp earth. As they neared the grieving parents, Pranav’s heart ached for them. They had lost more than just their daughter—they had lost their world.

Pranav stood silently, offering his presence as the only comfort he could provide at the moment. His mind, however, was already calculating the next steps. The case was far from over, and whoever did this was still out there, hiding in plain sight. This wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.