Chapter 7: Footprints of a Monster

The rain had turned the sand road into a quagmire, thick with mud and rainwater that pooled into small lakes. Pranav stepped out of the car first, raising a hand to stop his team. “No vehicles past this point. We walk from here. Don’t disturb anything.”

The team hesitated, the discomfort of sloshing through the mud visible on their faces, but Pranav didn’t care. He knew every step closer to the crime scene had to be cautious. He glanced around. The road stretched endlessly, wet and desolate, with the nearby bushes standing still, drenched from the night’s downpour.

Pranav’s eyes caught something—the faint outline of tire tracks barely visible through the mud, snaking their way along the road. He crouched, inspecting the marks closely. “Thameem, come here.”

Thameem joined him, his boots squelching in the mud. “What is it, sir?”

“Look at these tracks. You can barely see them, but they’re here. The vehicle must’ve struggled to pass through after the rain.”

Thameem knelt beside him. “It looks like the rain almost wiped them away, but you’re right, sir. It’s faint, but they’re here.”

Pranav stood, scanning further down the road, his trained eye picking up more clues. He moved ahead, methodically tracing the faint tire impressions that meandered through the path. As they approached the end of the sand road where it connected to the main highway, something else caught his attention.

There, sheltered beneath the heavy cover of a large tree, were footprints. The trail was uneven and incomplete, partially erased by the rain. However, the prints that had survived under the tree were clearer—irregular, but distinct.

Pranav crouched again, running his fingers across the prints. “Footprints,” he murmured to himself, his voice laced with curiosity. “Thameem, has anyone been here since we closed the road?”

“No, sir,” Thameem replied. “We’ve kept the area sealed off since the search started last night. No one has come through.”

Pranav nodded, signaling the forensic team to start collecting the tire and footprint samples. “Take everything—tire marks, footprints, whatever you can find. I want them analyzed immediately.”

Hours passed, the sky growing grayer as the team combed through the drenched road and its surrounding areas. The storm clouds that loomed overhead mirrored the heaviness of the situation. Pranav’s mind was racing, piecing together fragments of the scene, when a sudden call from Thameem broke his concentration.

“Pranav sir! Over here, I found something!”

Pranav rushed over to find Thameem standing near the edge of the sand road, where a rose-pink ladybird bicycle lay partially hidden under a bush. It was wet but otherwise appeared almost untouched by the chaos around it.

Pranav’s breath caught for a moment. The bicycle gleamed under the soft drizzle, unmistakably belonging to Anjali. The sight of it felt like a punch to the gut. “It’s hers,” Pranav muttered under his breath. He crouched down again, carefully inspecting the cycle. No visible damage, no bloodstains—nothing that indicated foul play had occurred directly at the scene.

“Vinayagam!” Pranav called out to one of his officers. “Carefully bag the cycle. Get it to forensics immediately, and don’t touch it without gloves.”

As the officers carefully lifted the bicycle, Pranav stood in silence, watching as it was taken away for analysis. The quietness of the scene was interrupted only by the distant rustle of wind and the occasional rumble of thunder. Something about this entire scenario unsettled him deeply, more than usual.

Back in his office, Pranav sat at his desk, staring at the crime board he had painstakingly arranged. Photographs from the crime scene were pinned haphazardly—images of Anjali’s body, the rain-soaked sand road, the footprints, and now, her pink bicycle. He stared at the pictures for what felt like hours, his mind racing as he tried to connect the dots.

Just as he began sketching out the timeline on his board, the shrill ring of his phone broke the silence. It was Roopa from the forensic team.

“Roopa,” Pranav said, not bothering with pleasantries, “tell me you have something.”

“Pranav, we’ve started going through the evidence. We analyzed the bicycle you found near the sand road,” Roopa said, her tone serious.

Pranav’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”

“It’s pristine,” Roopa continued. “There are no signs of damage or tampering. No blood, no scratches—nothing. It’s as if it was placed there deliberately.”

Pranav gripped the phone tighter. “And the prints?”

“Only Anjali’s,” Roopa confirmed. “We found no other fingerprints on the bicycle, which is strange given the circumstances.”

Pranav leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “And what about the tire marks and footprints?”

Roopa paused before speaking, her voice quieter. “The tire marks suggest a medium-sized vehicle, probably a van. We can’t narrow it down further without more analysis. But the footprints… those are interesting.”

“How so?” Pranav asked, his brow furrowing.

“The left footprint is deeper than the right one. Consistently,” Roopa explained. “The person was favoring their left leg, as if they were limping or had some imbalance in their gait. It could be a deformity or the use of an orthopedic insole.”

Pranav’s mind raced. A limp? An uneven gait? It was a significant clue, but it still left more questions than answers. “Thanks, Roopa. Send me the full report as soon as you can.”

He hung up the phone, deep in thought. Thameem entered the room, holding a USB drive in his hand. “Sir, the CCTV footage from the highway is here.”

Pranav glanced at him but didn’t respond immediately, still lost in his thoughts.

Sir what happened? Asked thameem

"Roopa called" replied Pranav

Thameem’s voice broke the silence. “Sir, what did Roopa say? You look… disturbed.”

Pranav sighed, leaning forward in his chair. “The footprints are odd, Thameem. The left foot—whoever walked through that area had a limp. Or maybe something else… something physical. They were putting more weight on their left side. Roopa says it might be a deformity.”

Thameem’s confusion was evident. “A deformity? So the person who kidnapped and killed Anjali might have a limp?”

Pranav stood up and paced across the room, his mind churning. “It makes sense. Someone with a deformity or imbalance could have a lot of pent-up anger, resentment. It explains the brutality of the crime. The way Anjali was mutilated—especially her left foot. That wasn’t random. The killer didn’t just want to kill her… they wanted to project their pain, their suffering onto her.”

Thameem’s eyes widened in realization. “So the reason they cut her left foot…”

Pranav nodded slowly. “It wasn’t just murder. It was personal. Psychological. They were lashing out at something they couldn’t control in themselves, something physical. This whole crime—it’s deeply rooted in the killer’s psyche.”

A silence fell between them as the weight of Pranav’s theory settled in. The more they uncovered, the darker and more twisted the case became.

Thameem shook his head, trying to process the revelation. “What kind of person would do this? To a 16-year-old girl?”

Pranav didn’t answer. His thoughts were already elsewhere, piecing together the fragments of a killer’s mind.

Thameem cleared his throat, pulling them both back to the task at hand. “Sir, should we look at the footage now?”

Pranav turned to the screen, nodding. “Yes, play it from 5:00 PM onward. Anjali was taken between 5:30 and 5:40. Whoever did this… they planned everything meticulously. No mistakes.”

Thameem inserted the USB drive into the computer, and the screen flickered to life with grainy images of the highway. Pranav leaned in, his eyes scanning every frame as they both sat in silence, waiting for the next piece of the puzzle to reveal itself.