The gateman, a middle-aged man, opened the gate. "What?" Tyron turned to Rohit who forced a smile. "I will manage, in fact, they like my big salaries." The police vehicle entered. Three policemen dressed in blue got out of the vehicle and approached Mr. Rohit and Tyron.
The lead officer, a stern-looking man with a badge that read Inspector Daniels, stepped forward. "I hope I am addressing Mr. Rohit Francisco. We have a report about a gunshot and a victim in critical condition. You have been shortlisted as the first suspect. You need to come with us."
Rohit glanced at Tyron, who gave a small nod of encouragement. "I will handle things here. Go with them. It's the only way."
"No! It's you, Mr. Rohit, who must come with us as the first suspect. Your name is captured, and we are not going to leave you behind. Your friend can escort you, but we don't know about him. In fact let us arrest you all," Inspector Daniels ordered.
Rohit, realizing he had no choice, turned to the gateman shouting. "Take care of everything here until I get back."
The gateman nodded, his face a mask of concern as Rohit was handcuffed and led to the police vehicle. Tyron followed, though his presence was met with a mixture of suspicion and irritation from the officers.
As they drove off, the police officers engaged in a conversation about the alarming rise of such incidents in the country.
"Just last week, we had a similar case," said Officer Jenkins, a burly man with a deep voice. "Domestic disputes are getting out of hand."
Officer Patel, a lean man with a softer tone, nodded. "It's not just domestic disputes. The crime rate overall is skyrocketing. People are losing their tempers too quickly."
Inspector Daniels added, "We need better control measures. Incidents like this should not be happening."
Rohit, sitting uncomfortably in the back seat, whispered to Tyron, "What should I write in my statement?"
Tyron, trying to maintain his composure, replied, "Just tell the truth, Rohit. It's the best we can do right now."
Rohit sighed. "I regret firing my lawyer over that neglected tea and those conditions. I wish he were here now."
Tyron gave him a sidelong glance. "This is hardly the time for regrets. Focus on the present."
They arrived at Tangos Police Station, a stark building with an imposing façade. Rohit and Tyron were escorted inside, where they were registered and their statements were taken in two separate rooms.
Meanwhile, news anchors who were busy colleting their random data spotted Rohit, an honored person, arrested, they were eager to interrogate him.
As Inspector Daniels led Rohit to the interrogation room, reporters crowded around. "Mr. Rohit, can you tell us what happened?" one asked, shoving a microphone in his face.
Inspector Daniels intervened. "Mr. Rohit is aligned with an attempted gunshot murder case."
The news anchors buzzed with excitement. "Mr. Rohit, do you have any comment?"
Rohit, looking haggard, muttered, "I'm not in my sound mind right now. I can't say anything."
Tyron, standing nearby, echoed his friend's sentiment. "We have no comments at this time."
They were both escorted to the detention cell. The cell was dark and dingy, with a musty smell that made Tyron's stomach churn. Two old men with shaggy clothes sat in the corner, eyeing the newcomers with a mix of curiosity and indifference.
The cell's concrete floor was stained and covered in grime. The air was thick and oppressive, making it difficult to breathe. Tyron tried to avoid eye contact with the other occupants, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him.
One of the old men, with a grizzled beard and sunken eyes, spoke first. "New arrivals, eh? What brings you here?"
Tyron, trying to remain calm, replied, "A misunderstanding. We're here temporarily."
The second man, who had a scar running down his cheek, chuckled. "Aren't we all? What kind of misunderstanding?"
Rohit, unable to hold back, interjected, "It was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
The bearded man shook his head. "Accidents happen, but they don't land you in here. Must have been some accident."
Tyron felt the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He was curious and afraid about where Rohit might be taken next, knowing that murder in the country was punishable by severe measures. Through the cell's small, barred window, he could see officers moving up and down the hallways, some chatting, others busy with paperwork.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Tyron's phone vibrated, indicating an incoming call. He glanced at the screen and saw John's name. His heart pounded loudly in his chest as he hesitated to pick up the call, his mind racing with questions. What might be the news at the hospital? Is Damaris okay?
Finally, he answered, his voice trembling. "John, where are you?"
John's voice came through, strained and urgent. "I'm on my way to Health Care International Referral Hospital where Damaris was taken. How are things on your end?"
Tyron took a deep breath. "We're at Tangos Police Station. Rohit and I are detained in the cell as suspects. It's a mess here, John. They're accusing Rohit of attempted murder and I as the second suspect."
John sighed. "I figured it was bad. I'll keep you updated about Damaris. She's in critical condition, but they're doing everything they can."
"Thanks, John. Please, let me know as soon as you hear anything. We need all the information we can get."
"Will do. Stay strong, Tyron. We're all in this together."
After hanging up, Tyron was led to another room, a small, dark cell with a flickering overhead light. The cell was filthy, with dirt and grime caked on the walls and floor. Another pair of old men with shaggy clothes sat in the corner, their eyes reflecting years of hardship.
One of them, with a weathered face and missing teeth, greeted Tyron with a raspy voice. "Welcome to the dungeon, friend. What brings you here?"
Tyron, feeling a mix of fear and frustration, replied, "A misunderstanding. I'm just here temporarily."
The other man, his hair a wild tangle of gray, laughed bitterly. "That's what they all say. What's your story?"
Tyron hesitated before responding. "My friend and I are accused of attempted murder. It was a terrible accident."
The weathered man nodded slowly. "Accidents have a way of spiraling out of control. You best hope the truth comes out."
As the minutes turned into hours, Tyron's anxiety grew. He couldn't communicate with Rohit and had no idea what was happening to his him. The uncertainty gnawed at him, and he could only hope that Damaris would pull through.
The station was a hive of activity. Through the small peephole in the door, Tyron could see officers bustling about, some engaged in heated discussions, others chatting on their phones. The occasional sound of laughter or raised voices punctuated the otherwise tense atmosphere.
Tyron's phone vibrated again, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw John's name on the screen. With a sense of dread, he answered the call, his voice shaky. "John, any news?"
John's voice was grim but steady. "Damaris is stable though just hearing from the doctors, but it's touch and go. The doctors are doing their best. I just wanted to let you know."
Relief washed over Tyron, though his worry didn't entirely dissipate. "Thanks, John. Keep me posted."
"I will. Take care of yourself, Tyron. This isn't over yet."
Before John could end the call, Tyron asked. " Where is Damaris admitted?"
On the other side, John replied." She is still in the theatre operation room. But let me consult first maybe I didn't got it clear. I heard something like ICU being mentioned so am confused.
"Intensive Care Unit? Confirm please and share with me right away. Right?" Tyron anxiety arose.