After dropping Meem off at her house, I picked up a rickshaw. By the time I reached home, it was six o'clock. I'd done a lot today, and now I was dreading knocking on the door—Naim would undoubtedly open it and bombard me with questions. But there was no other choice; if I wanted to go inside, I had to knock.
As expected, Naim opened the door, and before I could even step in, he asked, "Where have you been all day, bro?"
"Went fishing. But suddenly realized I forgot the fishing rod, so I came home to grab it."
He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer. "But we don't have any fishing rod here."
"Alhamdulillah! That means I won't have to go fishing after all," I grinned.
Naim gave me a mischievous look. "So, will you tell me where you really were or not?"
I put a hand on his shoulder. "Just wait till you're a bit older, then I'll make you my assistant. You'll accompany me wherever I go, unpaid, of course. How does that sound?"
Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Oh, whatever!"
Later that night, I sat down to watch some anime and finished two episodes. Watching the magical scenes made me recall today's events. I had saved pictures of their biodata profiles on my phone—Akash, Shahidul, and Biswajit. There didn't seem to be any link between them.
The next day, after class, Rima, Meem, and I headed to our usual hangout spot. Hasan had finished class an hour and a half earlier and had been waiting all that time just to chat with us. What a fool!
Before we began our conversation, I announced, "Let's cancel today's hangout."
Rima asked, "Why?"
Taking another girl along to these dangerous places would be a bad idea, so I simply said, "I've got some work today. Let's cancel it."
Rima pulled a face and grumbled, "Oh, come on!"
Understanding my reason, Meem added, "I also need to get home early, so let's cancel today."
Rima gave Meem a strange look, "Fine, I'll let it slide for today."
I boarded a bus with Hasan and took a seat beside him. I told him, "Call your uncle and tell him I'd like to meet with him, right now."
Hasan replied, "Alright, I'm calling."
After his conversation, Hasan looked at me in disbelief and said, "Bro, what's going on?"
"Not sure what you're talking about," I said, genuinely confused.
"You should be sitting with Meem, not with me. What's up with that?"
"Why? Is there a problem?" I asked, not understanding his implication.
"Absolutely! You should be spending more time with her."
I still couldn't follow his roundabout comments, so he finally asked, "Tell me something."
"What?"
"If it was me or my uncle calling you instead of Meem, would you have come?"
I hadn't expected this question, and hesitated, "I don't know."
Hasan smirked, his expression hinting that he felt he'd uncovered some hidden truth about me. "Friend, I know you can't say no to Meem. Just admit it already. So, how far along are you two?"
I shot him a glare, and he laughed, "Alright, alright. Some things are better left unsaid for now. But someday, you'll have to tell me."
Ignoring him, I put in my earphones and listened to music.
Upon reaching Dhanmondi, we got off the bus. Rima had already gone home with another classmate, so Meem, Hasan, and I went to Hasan's uncle, Mr. Islam.
"Good evening, young man. How are you?" Mr. Islam greeted me.
"Good evening," I replied, taking a seat as he offered.
"What would you like, something hot or cold?" he asked.
"Hot, please," I answered, and he ordered coffee for all of us.
After we were served, Mr. Islam asked, "Any information on the suspect?"
"No,"
Hasan sighed in disappointment, "Oh…"
"But," I added, "I can predict the next target."
Mr. Islam's eyes widened. "What?"
Hasan looked stunned, "Really?"
Meem chimed in, "How?"
"From the bio-data profiles you gave me the other day. I'm confident that all three victims were killed by the same person,"
Mr. Islam looked surprised, "How? The profiles didn't contain enough details for you to be so sure."
I smiled, "What they had was enough for me."
Meem gave me a slightly annoyed look, "Stop keeping everyone in suspense and explain how you figured it out."
After finishing my coffee, I pulled out my phone and showed them the profiles. "Besides Biswajit, the other two joined different companies the same year and had been working there for four years. I got curious about their gap years and what they were up to before joining. I read through Akash's journal, which I found at his place. He'd written about receiving a bonus and his coworkers' behavior toward him four years ago, suggesting that he worked for a company back then. A quick online search showed that Shahidul also worked at the same company four years ago. And interestingly, Biswajit held a lower position there too."
Mr. Islam's expression changed. "What?"
"Yes, but unfortunately, that company suffered a fire," I explained.
"Oh, I remember hearing about that fire!" Hasan exclaimed.
"Six people were trapped, but five survived while one died in the incident," I continued.
Meem asked, "How is that incident connected to this one?"
"Yes, it's connected. I think three out of those five survivors have been killed recently,"
Mr. Islam asked, "You're saying Bishwajit, Shahidul, and Akash were involved in that accident?"
I nodded in response, "It's not certain cause I don't have sufficient information on that fire incident. But it seems like something like that may have happened."
Meem asked Mr. Islam, "Sir, could we get the report from that incident four years ago? We might find information about the other two from there."
Anisul Islam made a call. After five minutes, someone entered the room and handed him a paper. He checked it and then said, "You're right. Someone named Nazimuddin died in that incident. And Shahriar and Bidyut survived along with these three."
I asked, "Did Bishwajit and Shahidul Islam receive any threatening messages on their phones?"
Mr. Islam called an officer and said, "Bring me the mobile phones of the three victims."
Meem said, "So, it looks like the killer is hunting down the people who survived that accident four years ago?"
"Yes, that seems to be the case."
Meem asked again, "Then, could it be that something happened in that accident four years ago that someone is now taking revenge for?"
"That's also possible."
Meem looked confused. Perhaps her curiosity was stirring up many questions. Mr. Islam said, "So, should we reach out to the owner of that company and check in with the families of the deceased?"
I replied, "I don't think that would be the right move."
"Why?"
I answered, "That won't help us catch the killer. In fact, it'll only make them more cautious."
Mr. Islam seemed to understand, "Ah, good point."
Suddenly, there was a knock. "Sir, may I come in?"
"Yes, come in," Mr. Islam replied.
An officer named Russell entered with the victims' phones. "Here, sir, as requested."
Mr. Islam instructed, "Check if there are any threat messages."
After inspecting the phones for a while, Russell reported, "Yes, sir. All three received similar threatening messages."
Mr. Islam concluded, "Then it's confirmed—these murders were committed by the same killer."
I reviewed the messages, noting that each one was sent on a Friday evening, and each murder occurred between Saturday afternoon and evening. I turned to Mr. Islam and suggested, "The next message might come on Friday. The next killing is likely to occur within 26 hours after that."
Mr. Islam said, "Oh, okay, then I'll contact Shahriar and Bidyut today. Whoever among them receives a threatening message on their phone will have police protection until the killer is caught."
I replied, "No, we can't have police guards."
Meem, with a hint of curiosity and indifference, said, "But why, tell me?"
"Having police guards would alert the criminal. If the criminal disguises as police and blends with the security, it'll cause more trouble. The killer could easily get away after committing the crime."
Mr. Islam nodded, "Yes, that's true."
Hasan asked, "Then what should we do?"
I said, "There's an alternative approach. It's simple but might be more effective."
Meem asked, "What's the approach?"
I told them the plan, and everyone agreed. Mr. Islam said, "But how will we identify the killer?"
I responded, "The killer is a woman who may or may not have a scar on her cheek, wears glasses, and is around five feet three inches tall. If you see someone fitting that description, put her on the suspect list."
Mr. Islam nodded, pleased. "Alright, if I get any information, I'll inform you. Then you, I, and two officers will stand guard in civilian dress."
I was taken aback, "Me?"
Mr. Islam replied, "Yes, you'll identify the killer and inform us."
I reluctantly said, "Okay."
Both Meem and Hasan chimed in, "We'll go too!"
I told them, "It's too risky for you. Better if you stay out of this."
Meem insisted, "No, I'll go with you all."
I asked, "Are you sure you want to go?"
"Yes, I'll go."
I said, "Alright."
Right after that, Hasan said, "I'll go too."
I didn't stop them.
**Saturday, September 2**
At 8 a.m., my phone rang. As soon as I answered, the voice said, "Sakib, are you awake?"
Yawning, I asked, "Who's this?"
The caller replied, "This is SI Anisul Islam."
I said, "Yes, tell me."
Mr. Islam informed me, "At 4 am. today, Shahriar received a threatening message."
"Alright, give me the address; I'm on my way."
When Mr. Islam started to give me the address over the phone, I interrupted, "Could you text it to me?"
"Okay, I'll message you."
The phone beeped as I received the address. I checked it and called Meem, asking her to get ready. I didn't call Hasan separately, as he was with his uncle. After freshening up, Meem and I arrived together in Mirpur-1.
It was 9 pm., and we had been standing guard according to Mr. Islam's instructions for ten hours, taking turns in three groups for meals. Nine o'clock came, and the killer hadn't shown up yet. I hoped the killer would come soon so I could go home.
Mr. Islam called.
"Assalamualaikum."
"Walaikum Assalam, have you seen anyone suspicious?"
"No, not yet."
"Alright, take a break. We'll keep watch here."
Meem, Hasan, and I stepped outside. We went to a shop and ordered three cups of coffee, drinking and watching our surroundings. The alleys of Mirpur-1 felt like a closed labyrinth. The narrow, filthy roads were broken and worn out. Even after 10 p.m., children were playing in the streets, using foul language as they spoke. Their clothes were ragged and dirty. Occasionally, a rickshaw passed by. Surveillance was difficult here due to the cramped, populated area, and the buildings were odd. They weren't very tall, mostly old, two-to-four-storied structures. Most buildings had four to five rental rooms per floor, each cramped with four to five people.
Suddenly, I saw a woman standing beside a doorway of a building. Her face wasn't clear, but she seemed over five feet tall, like the suspect we had in mind, and was wearing glasses. She glanced around and matched the building number, but there was no number on that building. She walked past us, checked the number of the next building, and entered. I called Mr. Islam and warned him to stay alert.
"You two stay here. I'll go upstairs."
Meem asked, "Why? Wait, we'll come too."
"It's not about that. I forgot to give Mr. Islam some information. I'll be right back."
"Alright, go ahead. We're coming."
I went to Shahriar's flat. The killer entered Shahriar's home and shot him. Shahriar fell to the ground. Then the killer said, "One more left. Quickly..."
At that moment, Mr. Islam stood behind the killer, saying, "Don't move, or I'll shoot!"
The killer turned around, shocked, seeing Mr. Islam aiming a gun at her. Frightened, she asked, "Who are you people?"
Mr. Islam replied, "I'm the police. Now you're under arrest."
The killer was surprised, "How?"
Mr. Islam answered, "You gave us quite a challenge."
The killer laughed, "What kind of police are you that couldn't save Shahriar?"
I stepped out from behind the killer and said, "We knew you'd come, so we had him wear a bulletproof jacket. He's passed out because we used a stun gun. Shahriar is alive."
The killer shouted, "What?"
Mr. Islam gestured to a female officer, "Go, put the handcuffs on her."
As the police moved forward to arrest the killer, Meem and Hasan entered the room. Suddenly, the killer grabbed Meem and held a gun to her head, threatening, "Don't come any closer, or I'll shoot her."
Seeing this, everyone was frightened. Mr. Islam and the others raised their hands and warned, "You won't get away with this."
I told the killer, "Let her go. Killing an innocent girl won't help you."
The killer replied, "Don't move. I'll surrender in a few days."
I said, "Surrender now. Don't take the law into your own hands. We promise justice will be executed for Najimuddin's murder."
The killer, surprised, asked, "How do you know about him?"
I responded, "Four years ago, a company caught fire, trapping six people inside, and one of them was killed—Najimuddin."
In a choked voice, the killer said, "He was my husband and he meant everything to me. He always walked the path of righteousness. One day, he caught onto their corruption, and they killed him using that incident."
Mr. Islam urged the killer, "Tell us the full story."
The killer said, "The five—Biswajit, Shahriar, Shahidul, Akash, and Bidyut—were secretly selling products to other companies, causing significant losses to their company. My husband discovered this and planned to gather evidence for the owner. But one night, during his duty, the news came that a fire in the company caused his death. Yet, all five survived unharmed. I couldn't believe it was an accident. But I had no proof, and no one, not even the police or lawyers, helped me."
She continued in a broken voice, "So I decided to take revenge for my husband's murder."
I asked her, "What made you decide to seek revenge after so many years?"
The killer replied, "They left the company and moved elsewhere. It took me four years to track them down. First, I found Biswajit, who had become a thief, and from there, I tracked down the other four."
Mr. Islam instructed Officer Russell, "Wake up Shahriar and arrest him." He then assured the killer, "I will fulfill my duty, bringing Bidyut and Shahriar to justice and ensuring fair justice for your husband's murder. Now, release the girl and surrender."
The killer laughed, "I don't intend to kill her. But why should I trust you? The police couldn't help me five years ago—why would I trust you now?"
Mr. Islam answered, "Five years ago, maybe no one could gather evidence. But now, technology has advanced. I promise you will get proper justice."
The killer let go of Meem. I noticed her hands and feet were trembling, her entire body shaking with fear. She couldn't speak; it seemed like her voice had vanished entirely, leaving only wide, terrified eyes. The female officer gently embraced her, whispering soft words of reassurance as she tried to calm Meem down. The killer walked toward me, gun in hand, but Anisul Islam pulled out his gun and warned, "Put down your gun and surrender, or I'll shoot."
I gestured with my left hand to Mr. Islam to stop. The killer approached me, threw down her gun, and said, "You've presented that incident properly. All this was possible because of your insight. Thank you so much. I only have trust in you and that's why I'm Letting the police handle the rest. If the culprits receive proper justice for their crimes, my last wish will be fulfilled. I ask for nothing else."
I saw tears in her eyes and a faint smile on her lips. I replied, "You're welcome."
The female officer placed handcuffs on her and took her away. Meem regained some composure. I was relieved because the killer was caught, and the ordeal was over. Mr. Islam said to me, "You're not only smart but also brave. You kept calm and subdued the killer in such a tense situation."
I replied, "Well, the killer is caught. Now we'll be off."
He said, "Wait, let's have dinner together first, then I will drop each of you home."
We agreed, "Okay."