Silent Fires, page 2
A few people thought that those curls were too fake and some thought she looked spoilt, with that lower lip curling in somewhat derisively. But in truth, she reminded most people of something bright and passionate in their own lives. Her twinkling eyes were staring into the camera in an unassuming way, her smile as if caught off-guard but alluring nevertheless. Missing.
Ministers of the state had been calling, following up relentlessly. Police officers had been pushed into a frenzy. And everyone was asking the same question: Where was Shravya Chandra?
“A big manhunt has begun for Shravya Chandra, wife of actor Arun Chandra. On Wednesday afternoon, she returned from a trip with friends and was trying to make her way through the mad crowd outside when she disappeared.”
A large TV crew had set up shop in Arun’s living room where he sat on a plush sofa and cried to the cameras, “Dear friends and family… I am shocked. I don’t know… how to react. My Shravya is my everything. I don’t know what else to say,” he paused to fold his hands. “I beg you.. please help me find my love.”
The camera stopped rolling. His assistant handed him tissues and a cup of green tea, which he took feebly. He saw Sunder and his men standing at the entrance of the hall and spoke to them sadly, “Sunder sir… Sir, you have to find my Shravya.”
Sunder took a few steps forward and bowed his head, “We are doing everything we can. Absolutely everything.”
Arun turned around and posed an angry question to no one in particular, “Who drops their friend outside the house like that? These friends of hers could have easily dropped her inside. You saw the crowds… no common sense…”
Sunder, who had already spoken to two of Shravya’s friends, nodded, “Yes sir, they also feel like they made a mistake.”
Shravya’s friends from the trip had quickly co-operated when Sunder’s team had got in touch with them. They’d shown the exact spot that Shravya had been dropped off. They had told the police that the crowds hadn’t picked up yet so they had no idea it was going to be dangerous.
Sunder looked at Arun and spoke in a way one would coax a child, “We are going through all the CCTV footage sir. But there were many VIP cars and film industry groups who came and went around that time. Anyone could have intercepted her. We’ve set up meetings with all of them.”
Arun was only half listening. “I don’t like those friends. I’ve never liked those three,” he mumbled. “No common sense.”
“We’ll find something soon sir. Don’t worry,” Sunder said. “Sir, we also want to tap your phone to our system. Just in case you get a ransom call.”
He nodded, “Go ahead…”
“Thank you.”
“You have to find her, Sunder sir…” Arun muttered morosely, staring at their large wedding portrait, hung on the biggest wall in the room. Slowly, everyone’s attention went to the photo. Arun was holding Shravya’s shoulders from behind her, his loving gaze piercing into her soft shy eyes.
Everyone looked at present-day Arun with sympathy as he sat there, broken and unblinking, pain beating out of his whole being.
CHAPTER THREE
The Lake Site
Manav had been getting his kicks from gore and crime drama shows and documentaries for as long as he could remember. His parents didn’t seem to care about what he watched as long as he got good marks. Besides, they were so busy parenting golden-child Ashish, they simply forgot to check what Manav was up to most of the time. They probably just wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told them that their eleven-year-old son was holed up in his room watching people getting their heads hacked off.
Ashish, however, didn’t seem to mind Manav’s addiction to crime drama. When he noticed that Manav had quite an aptitude for cases, Ashish had begun eagerly discussing some of his own with Manav. He constantly encouraged Manav to contribute to case theories.
About a year ago, Ashish had taken him to the police station to discuss a case, and it immediately became a thing. Manav fit right in with all the younger officers, and soon, everyone had come to trust his opinion and enjoy his easy company.
It was selective, of course. Ashish wanted him on some cases, where he saw some use for Manav. Ashish always decided.
Not too many people knew, but Manav had also had a short stint as a stringer, someone who shot crime clips and videos for news channels. Manav dreamt of being a crime documentary-maker someday, but he never thought he’d end up selling crime scene footage to channels for money.
It had just happened.
At first, Ashish had unofficially asked him to take some photos for a case because Manav had just got himself a new DSLR set. Soon, Manav was casually recording clips of crime scenes. He thought nothing of it except that they made for nice experiments in his editing room. But one evening, a reporter, who usually came to the station to pick up daily news bytes, approached Manav. He had probably seen Manav with the camera constantly hanging off his neck at crime scenes.
“Off the record, all this,” the reporter had said in a way that made Manav trust him, “This is the kind of money you will get paid per thirty-second clip.” He had scribbled a very satisfying number onto a piece of paper along with a phone number.
Manav’s heart had skipped a beat and an excited whoop almost left his throat. He’d told himself that rent and food didn’t pay for themselves before deciding instantly.
“Call me and let know,” the reporter had said.
Manav had already been nodding eagerly, “It’s a yes from me.”
The exhilaration of shooting crime scenes and getting paid good money for it was, naturally, too good to last. He could have lived this life forever if it all wasn’t exceptionally unethical. It was all too obvious, but Ashish had never confronted him, not once.
Finally, Ashish’s reporting officer, DCP Neelkanth, had been asking questions, putting his nose into things. Manav had been passed off as a crime scene photographer for the time-being, but everything became fairly dicey from then on. Manav had stopped selling his footage a few cases ago.
He did always have a GoPro on him, though. It fit snugly into his pocket and recorded crisp 4k footage. He didn’t go anywhere without it.
As predicted, ransom emails did appear in Arun’s inbox the very next day. But everything about these mails was weirdly off. The sender first demanded ten crores but didn’t say where. In the next mail, he said Shravya was alive but only just. And in the third one, there was a photo of Shravya staring blankly at the person taking her picture. It was as if there was no plan in place, just miscellaneous amateur efforts.
But when the IT team began to track the mail, they quickly determined that it was no amateur. The mails were heavily encrypted and then masked by sophisticated VPNs – which meant it was impossible to trace back.
“Can’t we trace this VPN?” Arun had urged the DCP. “Who would have the access to something so sophisticated?”
DCP Neelkanth shook his head, “It is available for low prices online. Even a halfwit can buy and use fake IP addresses.”
And then there was the CCTV footage of Shravya from one of the cameras outside Arun’s house, a tiny glimpse of her walking towards the crowds. She wore large dark shades and her hair was tied up into a blue cricket cap.
“She was trying to avoid the attention of the crowds…” The DCP said as they reviewed the footage with Arun. “And… after a few seconds, she’s gone. Nowhere to be seen. We’ve checked all the other cameras.”
Arun burst into tears. “Release this. Give the news this clip. This is the last seen footage of my Shravya!”
It didn’t matter because no one had seen her. She’d been so inconspicuously dressed that day, that no one had noticed her. None of Arun’s birthday guests had anything useful to offer to the police. Almost every visitor on that fateful day said the same thing: We didn’t see her. Why didn’t she get dropped inside?
“It really does sound like she left with someone she knew,” the DCP told Arun. “Someone would have seen it all if had been a struggle.”
“Then why didn’t the CCTV pick that up?”
“There are blind spots, Arun,” Neelkanth replied. “We can’t rely entirely on this camera footage.”
“Why? Why couldn’t we have had better CCTV placements?”
“They are your cameras, sir,” the DCP tried not to sound rude. “Set up by your people.”
The case was growing cold very quickly. Her phone and emails were simply a void, containing nothing except for junk messages and spam. Sunder’s best men turned Shravya’s room inside out and found nothing of importance.
Arun and Shravya were loved by all, their friends from the film industry would say. Only a political rival would have done this. It was all vendetta, they said. The cloud of mystery surrounding Shravya Chandra grew thicker and hazier.
On the third day post the disappearance, Arun received an email that simply said, ‘sorry, very sorry about your wife’. It was badly formatted, as if sent in a hurry. And it was the last email. It left the whole team stumped.
The very next day, some bad news was waiting to make itself known. For the past few years, the city’s old lakes had been getting heavy-budget revivals funded by NGOs and big companies. Drubhavi lake was one such lake on the outskirts of the city. It had been covered in swamp for years and now it was finally getting the attention it needed.
It was business as usual that day. The site engineer was deep in argument with his contractor.
“Sir, it collapsed because of the rains… you know it’s been raining continuously,” the contractor tried to reason with him.
The engineer was already in his car, foot on the pedal. “Maybe you all dug too fast. Anyway, don’t allow your men to dive inside yet. It’s putrid. Let’s get it cleaned first.”
“They’re already diving, sir…”
“Mohan, that’s a health hazard.”
“There is no budget to get it cleaned, sir…” The contractor was mumbling as the car started moving. The engineer was saying something about trying to ask the NGO for more money but nothing could be heard over roar of the engine.
And then, just when the engineer and his car were out of sight, there was a yell. Two divers were scrambling out of the lake, white-faced and shivering in the hot afternoon sun. One of them crouched over by a bush and retched several times.
The contractor waddled over to them quickly. He collected a few fear-filled and vague phrases; it came down to: There were bodies at the bottom of the lake.
And sure enough, once the divers had calmed down and gone back inside with more men and better light gear, they all saw it. Two decomposing bodies sat at the bottom of the lake, rotting beyond recognition.
By the time Ashish arrived at the site, it was late afternoon. The site was surrounded by empty parcels of land that looked like they were being prepared for big construction projects. Clumps of new trees were spread evenly around the lake.
They’d laid out the bodies on tarpaulin sheets. Everyone looked on curiously in its direction but nothing could be said of these two skeletal remnants because there were no clothes to recognize and hardly any facial remains.
SI Bharath looked around the site and said in a low voice, “Sir, this falls under our jurisdiction?” He was not wrong in asking this question. After all, the lake was almost fifteen kilometres from the main city and even the nearest village was a ten-minute walk away.
“No, it belongs to Rural phase 6. But the DCP had a feeling that… this might be linked to something important. That’s why we’re here.”
Bharath squinted at the tarpaulin sheet, “But those bodies look… old.”
“Water decomposes it faster.”
“And also,” offered Kishore eagerly, “It could have been put in acid first.”
Everyone had their theories.
Bharath got off the phone and frowned, “Sir, lab wants us to send the van. Theirs is busy.”
“Their van is always busy,” Ashish rolled his eyes, fingers running over his smooth jaw. “Arrange something.”
The contractor shuffled towards them, pulling up his pants as he spoke, “Sir, we have a van.” He had an oily sort of voice.
“No need,” Ashish murmured gruffly. He stared at the contractor, “So you are the site in-charge.”
“Yes, sir… I am Mohan,” he said.
“You are reviving this lake,” Ashish gestured to the operation behind them.
“I am just the contractor, sir. NGO has hired us. I have the people… around fifteen labourers work for me. I own the equipment. I have a driller, a digger and I co-own a crane,” the contractor was talking as if Ashish was interested in hiring his services.
“I see,” Ashish cut him off. People spoke forever if you let them. People forgot that they were police officers and not some bloody TV reporters, he thought to himself. “And what’s coming up here?” He pointed to the empty lands surrounding the site.
“Apartment complexes, sir. Big ones,” said the contractor.
Ashish rolled his eyes and began walking away. The contractor cleared his throat and removed his hands from his pockets, “Sir, to be honest, I don’t think this is a police case.”
Bharath and Kishore turned towards him and the contractor seemed pleased he’d got everyone’s attention. He continued, “There were some graves on the other side of the lake but the ground collapsed because of these heavy rains. I think these bodies have simply washed into the lake from there. This type of thing is quite common… We find bodies in this type of dying lakes now and then…”
Ashish didn’t reply. He simply observed the contractor and found him to be somewhat shifty, as if he wasn’t letting on everything. After looking him up and down for several seconds, Ashish narrowed his eyes at him, “Your divers are still looking?”
The contractor bowed his head slightly and jumped towards another tarpaulin sheet spread out under a tree, “Yes sir!” he pointed. “They have found all of this…”
Spread across the sheet were various old items ranging from worn out old boots and broken bottles to tyres and rusted vessels.
“And this, sir. Don’t know if it is real gold… but they found this too…” The contractor carefully handed him a long gold chain with small black and red gems on it. Ashish took it from him, the gold cold in his hands. It glinted ominously in the sunlight as if it knew of the whole story, as if it wished to keep everything to itself.
The roar of the bike almost startled Ashish.
“Anna!” Manav called pleasantly, looking around the site, taking in the scene of the crime. His sling bag was attached to his hip.
“Don’t record,” Ashish said shortly.
Manav pointed to his bag, “The camera is inside.”
“Will stay there.”
“Obviously, sir,” Manav nodded rigourously.
“Drama…” Ashish muttered and looked away. “They found bodies.”
“How many?”
Bharath interrupted them, “Sir, we are getting a van.”
Kishore produced a zip-lock cover and held it open while Ashish slipped the chain carefully into it. “Ok, I want the details of the location of post-mortem analysis to remain private. Hope that’s understood. I don’t want anyone to know.”
Ashish and Manav took a quick walk around the lake, which was rather hard because there was no pathway in place yet. Ashish was very sure he saw a snake disappearing into one of the thick bushes that covered every inch of the site.
“A perfect place to kill someone,” Manav said and Ashish agreed with him instantly.
“I need a team of sniffers,” Ashish called out. “As soon as possible.”
When Ashish entered the station, Assistant Police-Inspector Stuti Deshpande was taking down a complaint. She looked up and informed him, “Sir, assault case.”
Ashish gave Kishore a look and pointed a finger in his direction, “You look into that. Follow up.”
Kishore went over to Stuti, whose eyes followed Ashish disappointedly. Ashish was too busy to notice. He was annoyed that the TVs were still playing the same thing over and over again: the disappearance of Shravya Chandra with the same old information and pictures splashed over the screen all day long. The channels had made the last-seen footage of Shravya into a melodramatic music video.
“Turn that off!” Ashish barked as he sat on his chair. “That’s enough.”
A constable moved towards the TV but Manav stopped him.
“Wait…” said Manav. “Where is the chain? The gold thingy we found at the lake.”
Ashish left his teacup mid-air and stopped drinking. He watched as Bharath handed Manav the Ziplock cover with the gold chain ‘thingy’ nestled neatly inside. Manav held it up against the TV screen to compare what he was holding to the one in the picture.
It became instantly obvious to everyone in the room; it was the same gold-chain Shravya was wearing on the news.
“Ask Arun Chandra to come identify the chain,” said Ashish immediately. He added, “Call those friends of hers too.”
He smiled at Manav as if to say ‘good work’. He would easily admit that Manav had much better observational skills than almost everyone on his own team. Ashish continued to sip thoughtfully at his tea, planning the next sequence of steps he had to take.
Bharath called out, “Sir, they are asking if we can take the chain to Arun sir’s house?”
Ashish replied briskly, “Certainly not. Official statements are taken here at the station.” He gestured for Kishore to arrange some chairs opposite his desk. Stuti also jumped to the task, eager to please. Ashish didn’t bat an eyelid in her direction.
While they set up the station for the arrival of their high-profile guests, Stuti approached Ashish. “Sir,” she said. “A word?” Ashish stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This had, after all, become some sort of routine.
He glanced at her. Although she was short, she was well-built and strong looking. Her body language was almost aggressive when it wasn’t boyish. But she did have a pretty face so Ashish felt she was trying very hard to fit in, acting like a man and everything. After all, she was the only woman in his station.
