The Siya Rajput Crime Thrillers Books 1-3 (Where Are They Now / Finding Her / The Bones Are Calling)

by UD Yasha

  I had Googled Stan Mills before leaving. It was set up in the 1970s and made low-cost clothes. The plant near Gahunje had been shut for the past three weeks owing to a fire that had broken out. Two workers had been killed and a large portion of the equipment had been destroyed. The insurance company was still examining the cause and the workers, mostly locals from the Gahunje village, were claiming that the company had not done enough to ensure their safety.

  I wondered why this person had chosen Stan Mills. Was its location convenient? Did they have some connection to it? I didn't even know how they knew about it being safe.

  The road leading up to Stan Mills’ factory was deserted. Old trees towered on either side. There were no street lights either and my car’s headlamps temporarily painted away the darkness. As I reduced the speed, my phone started buzzing on the dashboard. It was the same number from which I had received the call.

  ‘Where are you?’ the person said.

  The voice was urgent, maybe even scared. Was I reading too much into it?

  ‘I’m on the approach road.’

  ‘Park your car outside, then walk around the factory. There’s a small door at the back which is open. Enter through it and then come to the first floor.’

  I would have asked how I could be sure I wouldn’t be hurt, but I had made the decision to take that chance when I had agreed to come out here.

  Before I could say anything, the person said, ‘Be quick and keep your profile low.’

  Something in the voice was different this time. It was not cold and matter of fact, but instead had a layer of emotion. I could make it out despite the heavy mechanical underlay.

  ‘Should I be worried about something?’ I said, but halfway through the person across the line disconnected the call.

  I stepped hard on the accelerator and my car zoomed ahead. It screeched to a stop when I pulled next to the factory’s main gate. There was no security guard outside. Even in the darkness, I could make out the charred walls. The fire must have been violent. I was suddenly reminded of the blinding lights in my dream. Being reminded of dad’s voice and what he had said sent an excruciating pain in my head.

  Not now, Siya.

  I stumbled forward, running along the tall walls of the factory. The air smelt like ash. I pulled my gun out of its holster as I circled the wall. As I had been told, I could see a small door in the wall. It was half-open.

  I slowed down and approached it cautiously. As I got closer, I saw that the fat padlock on it had been smashed open. I kicked it with my leg and it screeched opened inwards. I took a deep breath. I pulled out my Glock from the holster. I was not feeling trigger shy tonight.

  The smell of ash shot up through my nose the moment I stepped in. It was dark inside and I could not see a thing. I turned on the flashlight of my phone. I pulled my T-Shirt up to my nose to breathe better, using the same hand that held my phone. I wanted the other hand to be free for the gun.

  Strobes of my flashlight revealed the damage caused by the fire. Everything I lay my eyes on was burnt. There was ash all over the floor. I panned the flashlight on the ground to check for footprints made in the ash. I could see one pair, curving away. I followed the gaze and I found the staircase.

  The moment of truth.

  The metal staircase had turned black but was still intact. I climbed one step at a time. It was dead silent, but for the echo of my footsteps on the hard metal. I knew the person waiting for me would hear me approaching.

  As I reached the platform on the staircase, I was scared for the first time. I had no idea who this person was. I also did not know their real motive for calling me. All these scenarios had run through my head before. Why had they waited so long to tell me about dad? The promise of knowing more about his disappearance had gotten me this far. I was determined to find out. But I needed to take adequate precautions to protect myself and my family.

  All this while I had not told Radha or maa because I wanted to keep them safe. I had not realized that if something were to happen to me, they would be crushed. Both of them were recovering from trauma.

  I needed to let someone know where I was. And even why. The first name that came to my mind was Kapil Rathod. I used to work with him when I still practiced law. But I hesitated for a fraction before telling him. Not because I did not trust him. Ever since I had quit practicing law, we had had a strange relationship. He had been supportive when I had told him why I had left the field of law. But even then, I had taken him for granted in many ways and it was pricking at my subconscious. However, I had no choice then. I decided that I would explain everything to him.

  I opened WhatsApp on my phone and typed a message for Rathod.

  I am at the Stan Mills’ factory that burned down. Here to meet someone who claims to have information about dad’s disappearance. They first made contact on the day we rescued Rucha Sinha. They called me again today. Jay Parikh has as much information on them as I know. Which is not much. Thought I should tell you because I did not know where else to go. Talk soon. PS- Come here only if I don’t text you within 30 minutes.

  I gulped hard before pressing send.

  I had no idea if Rathod was even awake, or would read the message in time if I needed help. But there was no one else I could go to.

  I held both my phone and gun tightly and took the next flight of stairs. My heart beat faster. Anticipation swelled inside me when I got to the top of the stairs. I looked around. There was more darkness. Silence resounded. I turned off the flashlight on my phone. I did not want to give my location away.

  The ash smell was not as strong on the first floor, or maybe I had gotten used to it. I let go of my T-Shirt

  I walked several steps to my left and dialled the number from which I had gotten the phone call.

  ‘I’m here,’ I whispered.

  ‘I saw your flashlight go off,’ the person said, their voice still masked.

  ‘Where should I come?’

  ‘Are you sure no one followed you here?’

  I paused before answering. Usually, even without noticing, I could pick up a tail. ‘Yeah, I am alone,’ I said.

  ‘Alright, good. Turn your flashlight on and start walking to the right from the staircase. I will tell you when to stop. Put the phone on speaker, and stay on the line.’

  I battled the thoughts in my mind that kept saying that all this was a setup. But, this was my only, and probably, last chance to know something about dad. So, I obeyed the instructions and began walking in the direction I was told to go.

  My ears were alert, trying to pick up the faintest of sounds. But it was dead silent. I reached the stairwell. I glanced at my phone’s screen. It was lit up and the call was still on. There were no further instructions from the person across the line either. I moved forward, slower now, wondering how close I was. But close to what?

  Just then, when I was six steps and twelve seconds away from the staircase, the way the light emanated from my phone’s screen changed. I looked at it, and realized that the call had gotten disconnected.

  I stopped moving and instinctively turned off the flashlight.

  Was something wrong?

  I looked around. Everything was as still as it had been three seconds before. Maybe I was scared unnecessarily. Call dropping had become a nuisance in India over the past year because of a number of problems that had plagued the telecom sector. Maybe the call just dropped.

  I reduced the brightness of my screen, hid it under my sweater and called the number back. The chill in the air started biting me as the call kept ringing without being answered.

  The call going unanswered was not a good sign. Maybe the call did not drop, but was cut.

  What had happened?

  I wondered if I should return to my car.

  The words of the person echoed in my mind. Turn your flashlight on and start walking to the right from the staircase. I will tell you when to stop.

  Something had to be wrong. The person would not just cut the call. I steppe
d back, thinking I had to head back to my car. I felt my body shrink.

  I turned around and started running for the staircase. I felt the car keys in the pocket of my jeans and pulled them out as I jumped down two stairs at a time. Not a single second could be wasted. I hope my car is okay.

  The ashy smell returned as I reached the ground floor. I turned to my phone once again. I knew I had come this far, and wanted to try once again. It was already ten minutes past four. Fifteen minutes since I had texted Rathod. If he had read it, he would be coming for me if I did not tell him everything was okay in another fifteen minutes.

  I called the unknown person’s number again as I slowed down after reaching the ground floor. It seemed like the ringing kept getting louder the longer it rang. Again, no response. I knew I had to get out of there.

  Moonlight shined through the door from where I had entered. I ran for it like my life depended on it because I kept thinking it did. I cursed myself to not have done my due diligence. But it was about learning something new about dad.

  The cold morning air slapped me in the face with fierce intensity the moment I stepped out.

  But I did not notice, for what was in front of me made me stop in my tracks, doubt what I was seeing, and think: What the hell is going on?

  Chapter Four

  Rathod liked going to crime scenes with Bhalerao because he provided some amusement before the reality of the situation hit them. It was good to laugh about trivial things for a few minutes. Rathod had always wondered if Bhalerao would have been as entertaining if they were not driving to examine dead bodies and catch killers.

  But that day was different.

  Rathod’s mind was restless. He was absently looking at the small idol of the elephant God, Ganesh, that was stuck on the dashboard of Bhalerao’s car. His mind was occupied elsewhere. He wanted Bhalerao to stop talking so he could focus. But even that seemed to take his mind away from what was bugging him.

  He had gotten a text from Siya Rajput a few minutes back. He reread it. Come here only if I don’t text you within 30 minutes.

  He had an odd relationship with Siya. He respected her and stood by what she believed in. He knew she put justice and her love for her family over everything else in her life. That scared him as well. He knew she was capable of putting herself in danger for her values. He wasn’t sure what was happening in her life because she shared very little with him, and often much later, months after the event had passed. He had shared his frustrations on how she disappeared for months and then returned at the most unexpected times, like that morning. Deep down, he knew she meant well but was probably scarred from everything that had happened in her life. Yet, he somehow felt compelled to be there for her in crunch times.

  She had discussed her father’s disappearance with him a few times before. There were no leads in the sixteen-year-old case. That something had come up suddenly, without a warning, made him suspicious. Siya was alone, not knowing what or who awaited her. He knew her well enough to understand that she would not ask for his help had she not felt something was not right.

  He looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was ten minutes past four. Fifteen more minutes until Siya’s buffer time expired. But he could not wait. He thought of calling her, but was not sure if the ringing phone would put her in danger by giving away her position. He decided to text her.

  He typed out the message and hit send. I’ll be there. Are you okay?

  He put his phone back in his pant pocket. He began thinking about how much solving the mystery of her father’s disappearance would mean to Siya. He was glad her mother was safely back with them. One more thing concerned him. While he did not know Siya’s father personally, his name had shown up in a register of corrupt cops maintained by the former Chief of Pune Police. Siya and Rathod had found it on their last case together a few months ago. He wondered if Siya’s father, a man named Aniruddha Rajput, was indeed as clean and honourable as Siya believed him to be. He wanted to believe her, but, by putting on his police uniform every day, his primary responsibility was to respect the facts, and not be swayed by emotion.

  The clock ticked on. Rathod’s mind began counting down the time. Eleven minutes to go now.

  He was snapped out of his thoughts when Bhalerao put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Sirji, we’re here,’ Bhalerao said.

  Rathod took a second to gather his mind.

  ‘You looked dazed. Are you okay?’ Bhalerao said.’

  Rathod nodded. ‘Yes, it’s probably just the lack of sleep. Let’s go in,’ he said, swinging open his door.

  The air outside was cold and Rathod buttoned his long jacket. The murders had been committed on the sixth floor of one the buildings in a lavish residential complex named Natraj Meadows. Rathod looked around. The buildings were tall and there was greenery everywhere. German-manufactured cars were lined up in the parking lot. In India, such cars were even more expensive because of the import duty issued on them. It was clear to Rathod that Natraj Meadows housed some rich people. That also meant that the security measures would be high. Rathod counted at least ten CCTV cameras from where he was standing.

  Two hawaldars were standing outside Building ‘D’. Rathod acknowledged their salute with a nod of his head as they beckoned him in the direction of the lift. The lobby had a shiny marble flooring and a tall ceiling that could have easily accommodated two apartments.

  ‘I’ll help you with the code,’ the skinny hawaldar said, and moved forward into the lift. ‘The lift opens into the apartment. I got this card from the security guards of the complex.’ He waved it out of his pocket and held it against a sensor inside and the lift zoomed up.

  Rathod wondered how the killer had got past the security at the gate, then evaded the cameras and got past the lift card, which was as good as a key.

  Rathod gave Bhalerao a look when he started adjusting his hair in the mirror of the lift. Its door opened with an elegant swoosh onto the sixth floor.

  The lift opened into a small corridor, and not the apartment directly. There was another door a few feet away. The killer managed to get past one more obstacle, Rathod thought. The name on the door of apartment 6 told Rathod that the house belonged to Malhar and Niyati Jathar.

  Another hawaldar at the door handed Rathod and Bhalerao plastic overalls. They slipped into them to avoid contaminating the crime scene.

  Rathod checked the time. It was four fifteen. Ten minutes to go, he thought. He double-checked to see if Siya had responded. There was nothing yet. Maybe I should call her. For the first time that morning, he felt his stomach sink in fear. He decided to wait. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief to wipe off the sweat.

  Rathod ducked under the yellow crime scene tapes outside the door and went inside. The CID’s tech team was already inside, taking photos and collecting samples.

  Rathod examined the door’s lock from the inside. It was intact and did not even have a single scratch. As he looked up, a senior constable named Yash Jadhav walked up to Rathod. Jadhav was forty years old but looked more like fifty because of a balding head.

  ‘What do we know so far?’ Rathod said, looking around the house.

  He would have praised the owners for how beautiful it was had he not been there to investigate a murder. The living room occupied a vast area in front of him. It had a beige theme going. Rathod’s eyes froze on the TV set. It was probably the largest he had ever seen.

  Jadhav said, ‘Three people are dead in one of the rooms inside. The couple and another man whom we haven’t identified yet.’

  ‘What about the CCTV, the guards, the main door?’

  ‘Someone hacked into the CCTV and kept playing the previous hour’s footage. The guards did not notice anything suspicious until the neighbours reported that the Jathars weren’t opening the door.’

  ‘Which neighbours? I thought there was only one apartment per floor.’

  ‘I meant the people living on the fifth floor.’

  ‘Why were they kn
ocking on their neighbour’s door at three in the morning?’

  ‘The husband is a pilot and has odd working hours. The wife travels for work as well. So, they keep their house keys with the Jathars. It’s usually kept in the corridor that opens into the lift. The Jathars had given them access, but as the keys weren’t there today, the guy rang the bell, because according to him Malhar Jathar had told him to wake them up in case they forget to leave it outside.’

  ‘The neighbours seem friendly.’

  ‘You can talk to them. They’ve been extremely cooperative.’

  ‘I will in a bit,’ Rathod said, referring to the time on his mobile. There was no word from Siya. The time was four twenty-one. Four minutes to go. Should I call her? He didn’t and instead asked Jadhav, ‘What about the main door? Was it locked from the inside when the bodies were found?’

  ‘Yes. Looks like there is no damage to it. We’ll conduct a thorough check to know for sure.’

  Rathod nodded his head absently, but he was thinking about Siya.

  ‘Do you want to see the bodies?’ Jadhav asked.

  Rathod looked at him, confused. ‘Yes, I want to,’ he said.

  Jadhav led Rathod and Bhalerao to one of the bedrooms. They walked through a corridor that had expensive-looking paintings on either side, each lit by a spotlight. Rathod had observed that the yellower and dimmer the lights at someone’s house got, the richer they were. Poor people only cared about their house being lit, not the way it was lit. They walked past at least three doors and eventually turned left at the end of the corridor to look at the scene of murder.

  There were hushed conversations in the room between the two crime scene technicians and CID’s Medical Examiner Dr. Sonia Joshi.

  ‘We just got here too,’ Dr. Sonia said on seeing Rathod.

  Rathod nodded his head in acknowledgement. Two of the three dead bodies, a man and a woman, lay squarely in the centre of the room. The third body of a man who seemed to be in his late-twenties lay in the bathroom’s door frame.