Chapter 5: The Night’s Silent Visitor

The night was thick with a quiet tension, a stillness that hung in the air like a warning. A narrow figure, cloaked in a thin black leather jacket, moved with purpose down the empty street. Their steps were steady, calculated. Under their arm, a small cardboard box sat snugly, the weight of it insignificant compared to what it contained.

The figure stopped just outside the police station. It was late — too late for most people to be wandering the streets — but the figure wasn’t concerned. Under the dim glow of the streetlight, they approached the station entrance, placing the box carefully on the ground before turning to walk away. No rush. No fear.

Inside, Vinayagam, the head constable, had been meticulously organizing files in the backroom, his work lit only by the dim flicker of the station’s old tube lights. His tired eyes were focused on the mundane task when, out of the corner of his vision, he caught sight of something through the small window facing the street.

A figure. At this hour?

He stepped closer to the window, trying to get a better look. The figure’s back was turned, but Vinayagam could see the black jacket, the lean, almost skeletal frame. Alarm bells rang in his mind. Who would leave a box at the station’s doorstep in the dead of night?

Instinct kicked in. Vinayagam rushed out, adrenaline surging as he bolted towards the figure. “Hey!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet.

Normally, when a criminal hears the shout of a police officer, they run. But this person… didn’t. Instead, they turned slowly, facing Vinayagam with an eerie calmness that sent a chill down his spine. Their face was obscured by the low-hanging collar of the jacket, but Vinayagam could see their eyes glinting in the low light.

He closed the distance, reaching out to grab the figure, but before he could react, they struck. Despite their size, they moved with alarming precision. A swift, hard blow to his gut knocked the wind out of him, and before Vinayagam could catch his breath, another strike sent him sprawling to the ground. His head hit the pavement, his vision blurring. He struggled to stay conscious, fighting the dizziness.

As his vision dimmed, the figure leaned over him. Vinayagam felt the weight of something slipping into his shirt pocket before the world went dark.

Minutes later, a constable returning from night rounds found Vinayagam slumped outside, the small cardboard box sitting ominously beside him. The sight sent the constable into a panic. His voice shook as he dialed Thameem and Inspector Pranav, who were still at the factory, combing through files and trying to make sense of the connections they had uncovered earlier in the day.

The call came through, jarring both officers from their intense discussion. They raced back to the station, their minds already reeling from the investigation they had been deep in.

When Pranav and Thameem arrived at the station, they found Vinayagam sitting up, a bandage over his head, sipping water in slow, deliberate gulps. His breathing was still ragged, but he was awake.

Pranav crouched next to him, his voice low but urgent. “Vinayagam, are you alright?”

Vinayagam nodded weakly, his hand trembling as he wiped his brow. “Sir… the person… they were wearing a black leather jacket. Thin… short… I tried to stop them, but they were… too fast.”

Pranav’s eyes narrowed. His mind was already racing through the possibilities. The figure’s audacity unnerved him. Why hadn’t they run? He wasn’t dealing with a typical criminal. Whoever this was had a chilling confidence.

He turned his attention to the box.

Thameem stood over it, his face a mask of apprehension. “Sir, it’s the same,” he said grimly.

Pranav approached the box slowly, opening it to reveal what he already expected — another decayed human hand. He felt a deep unease settle over him. This wasn’t just another murder. This was a message. A game. The killer was toying with them, delivering these macabre gifts as if taunting them with each step.

But something was missing.

“The riddle…” Pranav muttered. His eyes scanned the box, the ground, anywhere nearby. Where was the riddle?

“Vinayagam,” he asked, his voice tight, “did you see anything else? A piece of paper?”

Vinayagam blinked, then slowly reached into his pocket. “They put something in my pocket, sir… I think it was a note.”

Pranav took the crumpled paper from Vinayagam’s trembling hand, his pulse quickening. He unfolded it, revealing a new riddle:

“Where shadows loom and threads converge,

Seek what lies in silent urge.

In the place where voices cease,

You’ll find the heart, but not the peace.”

Thameem leaned over, his face tense. “Another riddle, sir. But… this one feels different.”

Pranav studied it carefully, comparing it to the previous riddles they had received. This one wasn’t just about misdirection or confusion. There was a sinister undertone here, something darker. It spoke of something deeper — a place, a meaning that was elusive but essential.

His thoughts drifted back to the investigation they had begun earlier in the day. Patel Textiles. The name echoed in his mind, more unsettling now than ever. The factory had been abandoned for years, but something about it had caught his attention from the start.

The threads in the riddle… the mention of “where threads converge.” It all pointed to the textile factory. But it wasn’t just a coincidence. The killer was leading them there, for a reason.

“Thameem,” Pranav said, his voice growing more resolute, “we’ve been looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t just about random murders. The riddles… they’re all pointing to the factory. Not because the hands came from there, but because that’s where the answers are.”

Thameem furrowed his brow, confused. “But sir, we already suspected the factory. What’s different now?”

Pranav tapped the paper in his hand. “It’s not just the factory. It’s what’s inside the factory. The killer isn’t just leaving these riddles to throw us off. They’re pointing us toward something — something hidden, something we haven’t found yet. The ‘silent urge,’ the ‘place where voices cease.’ It’s more than just a location. It’s something psychological. Dark.”

The room fell silent as Pranav’s words hung in the air. The killer wasn’t just playing a game — they were orchestrating something far more sinister. Something that was deeply tied to Patel Textiles.

Pranav’s mind raced. The factory’s old owners, the workers who had disappeared over the years, the abandoned machines still covered in dust — all of it held the key to understanding the killer’s motive. But there was still so much they didn’t know.

He stood up, determination hardening his features. “Thameem, get the files on Patel Textiles. We’re going to dig deeper into the factory’s history, the owners, the workers — anyone who was connected to that place.”

Thameem nodded, immediately moving to retrieve the files. As he left the room, Pranav stared down at the riddle once more, the cryptic words gnawing at him.

This was no longer just a case of severed hands and cryptic messages. Patel Textiles held something much darker, something that had been festering for years. And now, Pranav was certain the killer wasn’t just trying to taunt them — they were leading them straight into the heart of it.

The answers were there, somewhere. And Pranav was determined to uncover them, no matter how deep he had to dig into the shadows.

As he stood in the dimly lit office, the night stretched long ahead of them. The killer had made their next move. Now, it was time for Pranav to make his.