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

by UD Yasha

  The desk was well organized. I still did not know what I was looking for. However, I was now starting to wonder if we could find anything that would tell us what changed five to six weeks back in Manohar's life. The desk had a sleek desktop computer, several pamphlets of various workshops and exhibitions taking place across Pune, a pen stand and a stack of science textbooks. I flipped through their pages but came across nothing helpful. The dates on the brochures were also roughly six weeks back.

  Atharva was at my right elbow, searching the desk drawers.

  ‘They’re surprisingly well organized,’ he said. ‘So far, I have found exam question and answer papers, syllabus for the next term along with recommended readings for himself and students. A lot of them are marked unread using a note.’

  ‘When did the exams end?’ I said.

  Atharva referred to a sheet of paper in his hand. ‘They ended on different dates for different grades but from what I can make out, they finished seven weeks back. A lot of things seemed to have happened during that time.’

  A rap on the door. I turned to it and saw Madhura enter the office.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ she said.

  ‘Can you tell me what happened at school around six weeks back?’ I said.

  ‘Lots. The exams ended, the term finished, we had an annual gathering in which students performed...’ her voice trailed off as she thought. ‘That’s about it. What’s the matter?’

  I was not comfortable discussing the facts of the case with Madhura. She could have been involved in this with Manohar or whoever took Rucha. She appeared helpful, but there had been innumerable cases in which the killer involved himself or herself in the investigation.

  ‘Wait, how could I forget?’ Madhura said. ‘Admissions for the next academic year started the day after the school term ended.’

  ‘Was Manohar involved in it?’

  ‘Yes, he very much was. All of us had to put in a set number of hours for admissions.’

  ‘What did that involve?’

  ‘Going through all the application forms. We have strict guidelines regarding the ideal student at Ad Astra. So, more than fifty per cent of students are eliminated in the first round. This is a year-round process. So, we're only left with the interview rounds once the term ends. We speak to the parents first if the prospective student is less than five years old. We speak to older students directly. The next step is a written test for the student followed by two more rounds in which we speak to the child and parents separately and then together.'

  ‘Seems robust.’

  ‘It needs to be. We're one of the most sought-after schools in the country. Various ambassadors and rich business families entrust us with their children. We have a reputation of teaching kids who go on to become torchbearers of our society. This process ensures we stay true to our tradition.'

  ‘How many applications does the school get every year?’

  ‘Roughly ten thousand. Two hundred are selected across various grades.’

  ‘With the number of days Manohar missed work, was he going to complete the required number of hours?'

  ‘I’m not sure. The attendance paper I gave you can help you with that. Can I have a look at it? I’ll talk you through it,’ she said, extending her arm.

  I handed it to her.

  ‘Look here,’ she said, showing me the paper and pointing out a date with her finger. ‘He was fully present the first three days. Then he took time off and got back for two more days before going again for three days.’

  That could be a coincidence. Or maybe it could be something else entirely. Probably the root cause of the change in Manohar's behaviour. I grinned, realizing that we might just have got our first major breakthrough.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I looked out the window as various scenarios ran through my head. ‘What was the date before he took his first leave?’ I said.

  ‘12th of April.’

  ‘So, he worked from 10th to 12th of April?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Can we get the records of the students he interviewed for admission at that time?'

  Madhura again seemed to think. ‘Yes, that’s easy,’ she said. ‘All the applicants are uploaded to the cloud and then they are assigned to us randomly. But, to make sure we don’t overshoot the intake limit, we can check in on the progress of other teachers’ lists as well. You’ll have to come to my office so I can log in to my account.’

  We crossed over quickly to Madhura's office. I made a quiet resolution in my mind that I liked Manohar's office more. It looked and felt more homely. Madhura typed furiously on the keyboard. Within a minute, the printer in the room squeaked out five sheets of paper.

  ‘That’s approximately twenty students,’ Madhura said. ‘He spoke to all of them. I’ve also emailed the list to you so you can make copies of it if you want.’

  I read the list along with Atharva. It had the names of prospective students, their age, details about parents, addresses and a cumulative score and the status of their admission.

  ‘How do you calculate the cumulative score?’ Atharva said.

  ‘A number of factors. But essentially, the higher the score, the better the chances of getting in,’ Madhura said.

  One name in the list caught my attention. Natasha Gill. She was a student, six years old. Daughter of a single mother. Under status, I saw she had qualified for the final round of the process. Her score was fifty-six. Others with much higher scores had not been selected. I went through the rest of the scores of those who had been shortlisted for the final round. Amongst them, not a single score was less than eighty. If that itself did not draw my attention, no other applicant had a score lower than sixty.

  ‘Is the scoring out of a hundred?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘How important is the score? Is it supposed to be followed? Or can teachers rely on their instincts to select a student in whom they see potential?'

  ‘They say that the score is just a guideline. But in reality, it is used as a marker for elimination. Only twice in the school’s history have applicants with low scores been accepted. For that to happen, the concerned faculty has to convince the director and the other teachers involved in the process to select a student who has a low cumulative score. Only if there's a one-third majority amongst teachers is that applicant selected.'

  I thought back to my school. I had gotten in because I lived five minutes from it, not because of a score. Radha had got into the same school because she had a sibling who was already enrolled in the school.

  ‘Manohar selected a student with a score of fifty-six for the final,’ I said, showing the paper to Madhura pointing out Natasha’s name.

  ‘That's really low. I'm surprised she got through even to the third round. That's not the strangest part either. Natasha and her mother never came for the last round despite being selected. That almost never happens. Parents are desperate to get their kids into our school. But a no-show, after being selected is extremely surprising.'

  ‘When was the final round?’

  ‘16th of April.’

  Madhura had a point. ‘Can we get in touch with her?’ I said.

  ‘Her file will have her contact details. But I should warn you. The principal wouldn’t be pleased to share it.’

  ‘Let me get it,’ Atharva said and started walking towards the door.

  Atharva returned five minutes later with a file in his hand.

  ‘I don’t know how you managed to do that,’ Madhura said, beaming. ‘It’s very hard to change his mind.’

  ‘We found his pressure point,’ Atharva said and handed the file to Madhura.

  I leaned over Madhura’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of Natasha’s picture stuck on the file’s first page. She was smiling in the picture. It reached her light brown eyes. She looked like any eight year old. Innocent, carefree and neatly dressed by a parent.

  Flipping the pages of the file, Madhura said, ‘So, Natasha’s score was better befor
e the final round. She did really badly in the test and that dragged her score down. I wonder why Manohar pushed her through. Despite that, she did not show up for the final round.’

  ‘Let’s call her and find out,’ I said.

  I punched the number in and put the phone on speaker. It rang and rang, but no one answered. I tried again. It rang out once again.

  ‘There’s an alternate number. Try that as well,’ Madhura said.

  The second number was of a landline phone. From the time the information technology revolution in India had taken over India in the mid-2000s, almost no one used landlines anymore. I punched it in. All of us leaned forward, zoning in on the mobile. The ringing echoed. No one answered.

  Atharva and I exchanged a look. We knew exactly what was going on in each other’s minds—we hoped the first thought in our minds was not true. We hoped that Natasha and her mother Sumeira were safe.

  But something told us we could be very wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We got Natasha Gill's address from the file, thanked Madhura and left Ad Astra at twelve thirty in the afternoon. She lived near Khadki, an area in Pune famous for its military establishments. Originally at the outskirts of Pune, it was now near the city's heart. Residential complexes and eateries had come up at breakneck speed. Natasha Gill lived in one of the older houses in Khadki along with her mother. It was fifty minutes from Ad Astra, twenty minutes from my house, fifteen from the CID headquarters.

  I carried Natasha’s file with me. I read the notes Manohar had taken on Natasha and her mother, Sumeira. Her husband had passed away from a heart attack five years back when Natasha was five months old. Sumeira had opened up to Manohar about her struggles to raise Natasha by herself.

  Natasha had somehow got by, working two shifts in the beginning and then renting out her front yard to a café. She liked to bake and bought a part of the café through sweat equity. Natasha was four years old then. Their lives were looking up and stable for the first time. Until a hole was discovered in Natasha's heart. That meant constant trips to the hospital and rising bills. They had sold their house and moved into a smaller apartment to cover expenses. During all this time, Sumeira made sure that Natasha’s education did not suffer. The story had inspired Manohar. He had recommended Natasha for a full scholarship at Ad Astra.

  Which made her no-show in the final round even more surprising. Coupled with the unanswered phone calls and their entry into Manohar’s life just after which his routine had changed, I had become suspicious. I wondered how a single mother and her ailing daughter would pose a threat to anyone.

  I had a thought. Wasn’t Rucha Sinha also sick? Could the two be related? I called Rathod right away. He answered after the first ring.

  I said, ‘Can you please check if anyone named Sumeira Gill or Natasha Gill had been treated by Malini Sinha or if they know each other?’

  ‘I sure will. What’s the matter?’ Rathod said.

  I told him about our morning.

  ‘I’ll also look into the Gills,’ Rathod said. ‘Do you want me to come to their house?’

  ‘How long will you take?’

  ‘Another half an hour to get out of the office.’

  ‘In that case, we’ll go ahead. We’re almost there.’

  ‘Be careful, Siya. If you’re right about this, you’ll be ruffling the wrong feathers.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what happens.’

  ‘I’ll be looking out for your call. I’ll send backup if anything goes wrong,’ he said and hung up.

  We reached Natasha Gill's house at half past one. She lived in an old three-storeyed building that was called ‘Apex'. Atharva pulled over in front of it. The Gills lived on the third floor. The building did not have a watchman or security cameras and was right at the end of the by-lane, away from any public attention.

  I pulled out my Glock as we scampered up the stairs. Atharva was ahead of me. I felt safe knowing that he was there with me.

  ‘Stay a step lower,’ he said when we reached the top of the stairwell.

  I backed down. Atharva approached the door of apartment 302. He pressed the doorbell but it did not ring. We waited for thirty seconds. Atharva tried the bell again. He knocked on the door. Still no response.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ he said.

  I had an idea. I pulled out my phone and called Sumeira Gill. The call went through and the phone began ringing. Atharva put an ear to the door. He shook his head.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ he said.

  I tried the landline which I knew would ring as it was not portable. I could hear the shrill bell inside. It kept ringing. No one answered it again.

  ‘Should I break the door?’ he said.

  ‘Go ahead,’ I said.

  Atharva backed up in the narrow lobby. He took a start and slammed his leg on the wooden frame. The wood was old and rotting and Atharva was strong. He struck it again with his leg. The wood around the lock gave in.

  We stepped into the house. I held my gun high, not knowing what to expect. An old soggy smell hit us and we had to cover our noses. It looked like the apartment had not been opened for a while.

  The living room had a small sofa, no TV, no centre table or anything else. Atharva peeped in the small lobby that had two doors. Possibly two bedrooms. I went into one, while Atharva went into the other. They were both small in size and it looked like two bedrooms had been crammed into a space for one.

  I looked around. I seemed to be in Sumeira’s room as I saw a saree and a salwaar kameez folded on a queen-sized bed. It had little in terms of personal décor. I opened the only cupboard to find more clothes. All belonged to a grown woman.

  ‘Found anything?’ Atharva called out from the other room.’

  ‘Nothing yet,’ I shouted back.

  I opened the only drawer in the cupboard. I saw a thick file in it. It had all the medical records of Natasha from the past two years. I flipped through it, trying to find the latest medical report or test conducted. Maybe that could tell me something. Or at least I would find the last public record of Natasha and Sumeira. I flipped through the entire file.

  Finally, I found it.

  The most recent report had been filed last. A chill ran down my spine as I read it.

  Just then, Atharva called out from the next room. ‘Siya, I’ve found something. You need to come here right now.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Still reeling from what I had seen, a sense of trepidation rose through me as I ran to the other room. Atharva was on the floor, reaching for something under the bed.

  ‘What’s it?’ I said.

  He looked up at me. ‘I don’t quite know how to describe it. You need to see it for yourself.’

  I joined him on the floor as I slipped my hands into a pair of gloves. I squinted my eyes and used the flashlight to get a better view.

  ‘It looks like an old laptop that someone tried to burn,’ I whispered, feeling confused. I pulled it out. It was indeed an old laptop. Its screws had been taken off, and the insides had been set on fire. It had not burnt completely though. However, I wondered how much could be retrieved from it.

  ‘The only possible reason why someone would burn a laptop is probably because they wanted to erase the data on it,' Atharva said. ‘What could a mother-daughter duo be hiding?'

  ‘We can possibly recover something from it.’

  ‘How does this fit in though?’

  ‘There’s an even bigger question. Where the hell are Natasha and Sumeira Gill?’ I said.

  I remembered Natasha’s most recent medical report. I sat up on the bed and opened the file again. I needed to be sure that I had read it correctly.

  I showed the file to Atharva. ‘The blood pressure in Natasha’s lungs was fluctuating and she had to see her cardiologist. The doctor told Sumeira to be extra careful for the next eight weeks.’

  ‘When did they see the doctor?’

  ‘15th of April.’

  ‘That’s six we
eks back.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why they missed their Ad Astra interview.’

  ‘The report before that one, dated 15th of March, was fine. All her vital counts were within limit then.’

  ‘What changed in that week?’

  ‘Her final round with Ad Astra was on the 16th of April. Maybe her health got worse and that’s why she could not appear for the interview. The doctor’s most recent report also states that she did not complain of any discomfort until the 10th of April.’

  ‘I’ll tell Rathod to send his team over here and collect all the evidence,’ I said, pulling out my phone.

  Within fifteen minutes, Rathod arrived along with two crime scene analysts. In the meantime, we spoke to the residents living in apartments 301, 201 and 202. The ground floor was vacant. No one in the building knew where Sumeira and Natasha Gill were. They last remembered seeing them about five weeks back. It seemed like they had disappeared from the face of the planet, just like Rucha Sinha.

  We left an hour later at three o’clock, letting the crime scene analysts do their job. As we walked to the car, I wiped the sweat off my brow. It had become humid. I glanced skywards and noticed more clouds than I had seen all summer. They were still high. I wondered if the pre-monsoon showers were going to kick in.

  Atharva and I bought chicken burgers and Coke Floats for everyone from the McDonalds in Shivajinagar. I felt we needed to review everything we knew about the case so far. I checked in on maa while sipping on my Coke Float. She was doing much better than before, making me think about last night again. I found it incredible how she had made me think of a bad situation in good light while also assuring me that she was in a good place herself.

  All of us—maa, Radha, Rahul, Shama, Shadow and I had lunch together. We did not discuss the case but reminisced about the old times. We got done at two in the afternoon. Atharva and I went to the garage office. Radha was proactive and had already set up a water cooler in the garage. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. A text message from Rathod.