Chapter 9: Shadows of Justice

The night was thick with the stench of rain, the first drops falling as thunder cracked ominously above. Pranav and Thameem rushed through the streets, the tension in the air palpable as they made their way to the scene. They had received a call about bodies being hung near the police station, and the urgency of the situation had shaken the entire force.

As they arrived, the bodies had already been removed from the traffic signal poles, each one carefully lowered and covered in white sheets on the wet road. Pranav’s jaw tightened as he signaled the officers to step aside. Thameem followed closely behind, his stomach churning with unease.

The crime scene felt like a sick ritual—the rain, the bodies, the sudden stillness of the night. The two detectives approached the bodies with a mix of dread and determination. Pranav, ever the stoic investigator, crouched down beside one of the sheets, his hand trembling only slightly as he reached to unveil the truth beneath.

With slow, deliberate movements, Pranav pulled the white cloth away. What lay underneath struck him like a punch to the gut.

It was Manav Patel.

Thameem gasped, stumbling back in disbelief. “Sir… it’s him,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pranav’s heart raced as he stared down at Manav’s lifeless form. The man they had suspected all along—the one behind all the corruption, the murders, the cover-ups—was now lying dead before them. Pranav’s mind spun, trying to make sense of it. How could Manav be dead? What did this mean for the case?

Pranav moved to the next body, and another horrifying revelation awaited him. The second body belonged to one of the other Patel Industries directors. And the third—another director. All three men who held power in their hands were now lifeless, dumped on the street like a twisted display of retribution.

Thunder rumbled again, this time louder, as if the sky itself was reacting to the gruesome discovery. Thameem, still reeling from the shock, managed to find his voice. “Sir, this… this changes everything. We thought Manav was the mastermind, the one behind it all. But now…” His words trailed off, leaving an uncomfortable silence between them.

Pranav stood up slowly, his mind racing, trying to connect the dots. He remained silent, not ready to give voice to the questions swirling in his head. He signaled Thameem to follow him, both men walking back toward their jeep as if drawn by some unseen force.

As they reached the vehicle, Pranav made a quick call to the forensic team. “I need confirmation. Check if the hand we found matches any of these bodies. I want the report on my desk as soon as possible.”

Thameem slid into the driver’s seat, his mind still reeling from the shock. “Where are we going, sir? We’ve hit a dead end. What now? How do we even begin to solve this?”

Pranav’s eyes flickered in the dim light as he settled into his seat. “We’re not at a dead end. We’re closer to solving this than ever before. Head to the police station. I know who’s behind this.”

Thameem glanced at him, confused. “Sir, what are you saying? Who could have done this if not Manav?”

Pranav’s voice was calm but firm. “Think about it. Manav and his people were untouchable. For years, they’ve bribed officials, silenced complaints, and evaded justice. There wasn’t a single missing persons case, no major complaints, not even a whiff of suspicion despite everything that happened in that factory. The case was closed in their favor last month. But someone started all of this—the protests, the uproar. There’s only one person who stood against them: Balan, the union leader.”

Thameem’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and his eyes widened in realization. “Balan? But… we thought he disappeared.”

Pranav didn’t answer. As they neared the police station, his sharp eyes caught sight of something that sent a cold chill down his spine.

“Thameem, stop the car,” Pranav ordered quietly.

Thameem hit the brakes, pulling up near the station’s entrance. Pranav’s gaze was fixed on a figure sitting calmly on the bench outside, as if he had been waiting for them. The man sat hunched over, his face partially obscured by shadows, but Pranav knew who it was.

“Thameem… look,” Pranav whispered.

Thameem turned his head and froze. There, sitting on the weather-beaten bench in front of the station, was Balan.

The union leader looked up slowly, meeting Pranav’s gaze with a knowing smile. His face was gaunt, and his body showed signs of exhaustion, but his eyes gleamed with a dangerous resolve. He didn’t flinch as Pranav stepped out of the jeep and approached him.

“Balan,” Pranav said coldly. “You’re under arrest for the murders of Manav Patel and the two other directors.”

Balan didn’t resist. Instead, he chuckled softly, a bitter sound that echoed in the still night air. “I’ve been waiting for you, Inspector,” he said, his voice calm, almost resigned.

Pranav’s mind was already turning over the next steps. “Thameem, get him inside. We need to talk.”

Inside the dimly lit interrogation room, Balan sat comfortably in his chair, as though he had nothing left to lose. The fluorescent light flickered slightly, casting harsh shadows across the room. A steaming cup of tea was placed in front of him, but he paid it no mind.

Pranav stood by the door, watching Balan closely, while Thameem stayed in the background, his nerves on edge.

Pranav’s phone rang, breaking the tense silence. It was the forensic team. “Inspector, we’ve confirmed it. All hands perfectly matches with all the three bodies. All the pieces fit.”

Pranav hung up and took a deep breath. It was time for answers.

Balan spoke first. “You want to know why, don’t you? Why I did it? I have nothing to hide, Inspector. You already know the truth about the factory, about how we were poisoned by Hexachlorine. But what you don’t know is how deep the corruption went. They killed us slowly, every day, and no one cared. When I filed that case, I thought maybe—just maybe—the system would protect us. But no. Manav and his cronies used their power and money to shut it down. They bought their way out of justice.”

Balan paused, rolling up his sleeves and pant legs, revealing dark, blistering scars on his skin. “This is what Hexachlorine did to me, Inspector. And not just me—seven lives were lost because of Manav’s greed. Seven families destroyed.”

Pranav listened in silence, his eyes never leaving Balan.

“When the case was closed last month, I lost my last shred of hope. I realized no one was going to fight for us. So, I took matters into my own hands,” Balan continued. “I wasn’t alone. The security guard at the Patel corporate office helped me. He told me that the directors were planning to leave the country. That’s when I knew I had to act. I disguised myself as a cab driver and kidnapped them straight from their office. I took them back to that factory—our graveyard. I made them breathe the Hexachlorine, just like we had to. I wanted them to feel the pain, the agony.”

Thameem’s mind flashed back to his conversation with the security guard. The pieces were falling into place, and the grim reality was becoming clear.

“I knew you’d figure it out, Inspector,” Balan said, looking Pranav dead in the eyes. “That’s why I left you the clues—the hand, the riddles. I wanted you to understand the suffering we went through. And now you do. I hung them from the traffic lights because they deserved to be seen, to be judged by the world. And when I realized you had uncovered the truth, I came to you willingly. I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Pranav remained still, processing the magnitude of Balan’s words. The justice system had failed, and Balan had taken matters into his own hands. It wasn’t just a murder—it was an act of vengeance, a final plea for recognition.

After a long pause, Pranav signaled Thameem. “Take him to court. We’re done here.”

The next day, the court sentenced Balan to life imprisonment. The factory workers who had died would finally have their justice, but at a heavy cost. As the news broke, people gathered outside the police station, praising Pranav and Thameem for solving the case.

Assistant Commissioner Ravichandran called Pranav later that evening. “Good work, Inspector. But we’re not done yet. I want you and Thameem in my office immediately.”

Pranav hung up, already preparing for the next challenge. The shadows of justice never rest.