Chapter 6: Echoes in the Silence
The Cold Case Unit office was unusually quiet. The air was thick with unspoken urgency as Pranav and his team sat around a large table, files scattered across its surface. The whiteboard behind them had been wiped clean, ready for new names, new timelines, new connections.
The number 24 was written in bold red ink in the center.
“Where do we begin, sir?” Murali asked, scanning the thick stack of old case files.
Pranav sat silently for a moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. Then he spoke.
“Let’s match their ages.”
Within the hour, the team filtered through the 24 reports. Eleven of them fell within the same age bracket — Recent graduates, all between 26 and 28 years old. Most were found dead near their homes. All ruled suicides. No foul play suspected.
“Thameem, get me complete details on these eleven girls,” Pranav said. “Names, case history, last known movements — and photographs. I want faces.”
“On it, sir,” Thameem replied, rising from his chair.
Pranav turned to Mitra. “Let’s meet Ananya’s mother again. She deserves to know. And we need to understand more about those last days.”
Mitra nodded. There was an expression on her face — part empathy, part determination. She had once stood on that edge of silence too.
---
While they prepared to revisit Ananya’s mother, Murali was already boarding a flight to Coimbatore. His mission: trace Saravanan, one of the two security guards who mysteriously quit soon after Ananya’s death.
It didn’t take long. With the help of local police, Murali found Saravanan in his village, working as a part-time driver.
At first, Saravanan denied everything. But as Murali probed deeper, the cracks began to show.
“We were desperate,” he finally admitted, eyes lowered. “Both of us had loans. Struggling. We didn’t want to do anything illegal. But this guy approached us… masked, well-built, didn’t reveal his name.”
Murali leaned forward. “What exactly did he ask you to do?”
“Take three days’ leave. Cut cables of the CCTVs — just say they weren’t working. And then resign three months later. That’s all. He promised ₹1 lakh each. Paid half upfront, half after we left the job.”
Murali's brow furrowed. “How did he know your situation?”
“We were at a tea stall near the back gate. Talking about how broke we were. That’s when he showed up — like he was listening. Voice was strange. Not local. But convincing.”
Murali’s instincts screamed this was just the tip of the iceberg. He noted every detail, thanked Saravanan, and booked the next flight to Chennai.
---
Meanwhile, back in the city, Pranav and Mitra sat with Ananya’s mother once again. The house was the same — silent, still wrapped in the weight of absence.
“She was strong,” the mother repeated, voice trembling. She couldn't continue, she broke down. Mitra wrapped her around instantly giving a warm hug to ease the situation.
Pranav stood, . “Can we check the sixth floor?”
The woman nodded.
---
The sixth floor had a rooftop lawn — a quiet, open space with patchy grass and a low boundary wall. It was peaceful… too peaceful.
The CCTV camera at the top corner was still dead. Rusted wires hung exposed.
Pranav paced slowly, taking in every detail. He walked up to the ledge where Ananya was said to have fallen. But something felt off.
He stepped onto a small utility slab near the wall. From here, the city stretched far and wide. But on the inner side of the parapet, nearly invisible from a standing view, he saw something.
Scratched faintly into the cement.
Two letters.
"A. V."
He bent down, touching the carving gently. It wasn’t random. It was precise. Like someone had wanted it to be found — but only by someone who looked closely.
Mitra walked up beside him. “What is it?”
Pranav didn’t answer immediately. The wind brushed past them. The city murmured far below.
“We’re not just dealing with a killer,” he finally said. “We’re dealing with someone who plans everything. Someone who watches, waits… and writes endings.”