The Forbidden Daughter

by Shobhan Bantwal

  “What about Sundari?” He looked around, his eyes once again measuring the destruction wreaked over the room, wondering what kind of demon could have done this. “Where is she, anyway?” Wasn’t she supposed to be watching the children?

  “I—I think she’s had a stroke.” Something seemed to be lodged in Isha’s throat, because she kept swallowing. “She won’t wake up. I tried to wake her . . . I tried so hard.”

  “A stroke? What makes you think it’s . . . ? Never mind.”

  How was she supposed to know the symptoms? “What about Priya?”

  The look on Isha’s face was still not entirely focused. “She’s sleeping in her room.”

  “I’ll take a look at Sundari.” Leaving Isha in Phillip’s capable hands, Harish rose to his feet and turned toward the bedroom 248 Shobhan Bantwal

  he knew was Priya’s and Sundari’s. That room, too, was a scene of devastation.

  And, sure enough, Sundari lay on the floor with her face down. Her body looked unnaturally still.

  He knelt down and checked her pulse. It was a little sluggish, but it wasn’t life-threatening. He checked for possible broken bones and injuries. Finding none, he carefully rolled her onto her back. She moaned a little. Her eyelids fluttered a bit and then closed again. “Sundari,” he said, but another whispery moan is all he got from her. He forced open her eyelids to check her pupils and found them slightly dilated.

  From what he could see, he suspected she may have been anesthetized, most likely with something like chloroform or ether.

  There was a vaguely familiar, sweet odor in the room, further confirming his suspicions.

  If it was indeed an anesthetic type of substance, thank God she hadn’t been administered a dangerous dose, because her vital signs were near normal. She’d wake up soon, most likely with a headache, exhaustion, or nausea—or all three. He hoped that was all it was.

  He sat back on his heels amidst the litter and attempted to vi-sualize what may have happened before his arrival. The kidnapper had obviously broken into the flat while Isha was working in the other one.

  It was a little after ten o’clock when Harish had seen the Jeep pass by his house. The kidnapper probably had driven directly to Isha’s place. It was Harish’s call to Patil that must have assured Karnik and his informant that Isha’s threats had substance. If only he hadn’t left that stupid message!

  Even later on, after he’d realized the man in the Jeep was probably headed for Isha’s place, he could have come to her immediately, kept her and the family safe. Instead, he’d panicked and waited for Phillip to arrive. Even more stupid! But it was too late to lament that now.

  Most likely the goon hadn’t found what he was looking for, so he’d started to slash and tear apart everything, looking for it.

  When he still couldn’t find it, what did he do? He took Diya!

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  The bastard must have been awfully quiet or Isha would have heard something. But on second thought, she had the hallway separating the two flats and both doors were closed. She also had the radio on. Her ceiling fan must have been running, and possibly her noisy sewing machine. All those things combined would have prevented her from hearing anything going on in the house.

  Rising to his feet, he went to check on Priya. Her pulse and eyes were perfectly normal and her color looked healthy. Thank God! She was sleeping peacefully on her ruined mattress, an innocent little girl who had no idea about the evil destruction that had occurred all around her. It was a miracle she’d been left untouched.

  He felt the most powerful urge to pick up the child and hug her from sheer relief, but quashed it in the next second. Let her sleep.

  But where had the kidnapper taken the baby? Harish had come to love the little tyke. Could she be hurt or even killed by now? The thought was too horrifying to dwell on. And Isha?

  Dear God, if it bothered him to see her cry, it was downright heartbreaking to see her shed no tears at all, and instead stare at the floor like all her emotions had drained through a sieve.

  He checked on Sundari once again. She was stirring. It was a promising sign. In a little while she’d wake up and stay groggy for an hour or two. So he went back to the drawing room.

  Phillip had returned one of the chairs back to its upright position and was sitting in it. “I checked the door,” he said to Harish. “The lock was picked. Clean job, though. It’s hard to detect.

  He’s clearly an expert.”

  Harish stopped in his tracks. “Hmm.” Palgaum wasn’t exactly a town filled with expert thieves. All his suspicions about the perpetrator possibly being a policeman were becoming stronger by the minute. Who was he? Or was there more than one?

  Probably reading Harish’s thoughts, Phillip nodded at him in acknowledgment.

  “I checked on Sundari, Isha.” Harish went to sit beside her.

  “It’s not a stroke. She was probably given an anesthetic by the intruder. She’ll be all right once she wakes up.”

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  “You’re sure?” Isha asked, her expression still a little unfo-cused.

  “I’m positive. She’ll be fine.”

  Phillip started questioning Isha. “Tell me exactly what happened when you entered the flat.”

  She haltingly told them everything she’d seen and done. The kidnapper had obviously had plenty of time to do whatever he wanted to do and take off. He’d even had the luxury of being able to find a blank sheet of paper and crayons to write his menacing note. It seemed like he’d gone on a sick demolition spree, delighting in all the devastation, and then gloating over it.

  Phillip tapped his steepled fingers together. “Since he took the baby I’m assuming he didn’t find what he was looking for even after a thorough search—in this case the evidence against Karnik.”

  He leaned forward to face Isha, his gaze intense. “So, exactly where is this evidence? ”

  “In my shop, locked up in the almirah. I don’t think the killer knows about my other flat, otherwise he would have come there looking for it, wouldn’t he?” She frowned at Phillip.

  Phillip nodded. “Most likely.” He looked about the wrecked room. His silence spoke volumes. If the thief had easily found what he was looking for, he’d have taken it and left the rest of the house alone. And he wouldn’t have taken a hostage, either.

  Isha must have read his mind, too. “I should have left it in the almirah right here, where I’d always kept it. But for some insane reason, this morning I decided to move it far away from the children and Sundari.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes, a gesture of extreme frustration. “In my attempt to protect my children, I did the exact opposite: I gave him the perfect reason to abduct one of them.”

  “It’s never easy to foresee how a decision will affect the future, Isha,” consoled Harish.

  “But it all started with my conversation with Karnik. It’s all my fault.”

  The look of pure anguish on her face stabbed at Harish. He pressed her hand in both of his. “You can’t keep blaming your-THE

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  self for something you did on impulse. Let’s hope Patil returns soon and Diya will be found.”

  “Do you really trust this Patil?” Phillip asked, looking skeptical. “I know of him, but I don’t know him personally.”

  Harish nodded. “I’m acquainted with him. His grandchildren are my patients. He loves playing politician, and he’s hungry for publicity, but I don’t think he’s all that corrupt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t be one hundred percent positive, but I know he’s not the type to condone murder and kidnapping. I’d be willing to bet he lines his pockets at every opportunity, but nothing more than that.”

  “Then see if you can contact him,” said Phillip. “Call his wife, or do whatever you have to, and explain it’s urgent. Every minute is precious in cases like this. It gives the kidnapper th
at much more time to get away.” When he saw Harish reaching for the phone directory, he added, “And don’t call Patil’s office!”

  “I won’t. That was my biggest mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “And if you talk to his wife, make sure she tells no one at his office. And emphasize that point.”

  “All right.” Harish inclined his head toward the land line phone in the kitchen. “Meanwhile, why don’t you call Isha’s sister-in-law, Sheila Sathe, and inform her about this? Sheila and Isha are close and Sheila will want to help. I’m sure the number is by the phone.” When Phillip hesitated and kept looking around the room, Harish raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “I’m wondering if the man left any fingerprints.” He let out a sigh. “If he did, they’re mostly contaminated now with Isha having touched some of the things.”

  She glanced at Phillip. “I doubt there would be fingerprints.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “The same man or men who killed Nikhil may have taken Diya. The police didn’t find any unaccounted fingerprints or a weapon at the murder scene. They found nothing, not even a hair or fiber.”

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  “Which is why I’m convinced this fellow’s a policeman,”

  Harish said. “He knows how to cover his tracks and he probably knows what goes on at police headquarters. That Jeep following me and this break-in can’t be coincidence.”

  “I agree,” said Phillip, turning toward the kitchen.

  Harish watched his friend go before turning his gaze back to Isha. Although she was answering all of his and Phillip’s questions coherently, she was still not herself. There was something detached and mechanical about her speech. She continued to sit very still and stare at nothing in particular. Seeing her like that doubled his resolve to find the man who’d done this to her and Diya, then see him punished—given the death penalty.

  It surprised him that his thoughts had turned violent. He’d taken a sacred oath to save people. He’d never wanted to see anyone dead—until now.

  But then, he’d never been in love before, either. He’d do anything for Isha and the girls.

  “You did what!” Karnik gaped at Ishwar Gowda, trying hard to ignore the ringing in his ears. Maybe he hadn’t heard it right. He’d just been given two terrifying pieces of information by Gowda: first, the alleged evidence was nowhere to be found in Isha Tilak’s flat; second, Gowda had kidnapped the Tilak baby, with the missing evidence serving as ransom in exchange for the child.

  Karnik pressed a hand to his perspiring forehead. This couldn’t be happening! Please, God, tell me this is not true. Tell me it’s only a cruel nightmare.

  Gowda, a large, slightly potbellied man with a thin mustache and a face that could be considered handsome, stood with his feet apart and his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You told me she had the evidence and that I should get it. I looked everywhere; I couldn’t find the damn thing.”

  “So you took her child instead! Are you insane or what?”

  Karnik was beginning to suspect the man standing before him truly was a madman, a psychopath.

  A shrug was all Karnik got from Gowda. “If she values her THE

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  child, she will give you what you want. Women are soft-hearted when it comes to their children.”

  “But you were not supposed to do anything beyond getting the information quietly. Kidnapping was not part of the deal!”

  Karnik remembered the casual way Gowda had informed him about Nikhil Tilak’s murder more than a year ago. The terrible news had led to weeks of sleeplessness and anxiety for Karnik.

  Until the whole episode had been put to rest, he had suffered from insomnia, indigestion, and angina attacks.

  He still had nightmares about it occasionally, where a blood-ied Tilak came at him with a knife, making Karnik thrash around and even scream in terror at times. He had woken up in a cold sweat, shaking all over, several times this past year. He had turned into Macbeth.

  There was never going to be any real peace for him. Tilak’s ghost would hover over him for the rest of his life—and most likely in all his future incarnations. The Hindu scriptures clearly stated that evil deeds haunted one’s soul forever, or at least until the debt was fully repaid. He shuddered at the morbid thought.

  The killing was done by Gowda, but the blood tainted his own hands just as much.

  Feeling his heartbeat turning dangerously erratic, Karnik took several deep breaths. “Where is the child now?”

  “Don’t worry about her. She’s okay,” Gowda assured him.

  “Where is she?” Karnik demanded on what sounded like a choked sob. “Did you kill her? Please tell me you didn’t kill her.” A murdered child was something he couldn’t stomach.

  “No. She’s being taken care of. She’s with my wife.” Gowda rolled his eyes in apparent frustration.

  “And your wife is going along with this bloody scheme of yours?”

  “I told her the mother was in an accident,” replied Gowda,

  “and the police had to care for the child until the father returned from a business trip.”

  “My God! Is there no end to your wickedness? What are you planning to do with the child?”

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  “It’s all in the plan. I told you, nah, don’t worry.”

  “Of course I’m worried! This is a human life you’re talking about, you idiot!” Karnik’s hands were shaking uncontrollably.

  He knew his heart was starting to wobble.

  Gowda laughed. The sound of it was like distant thunder—

  growling, ominous. “A man who performs abortions is lectur-ing me on the sanctity of human life?”

  “That’s different!” Karnik retorted. “A fetus is nothing more than a mass of cells. A living, flesh-and-blood child is another matter.”

  “Tell that to the government who passed the law banning gender-based abortion.” Gowda fingered his mustache thoughtfully, then picked up the tiny silver figurine of the Statue of Liberty on the doctor’s desk. It was a souvenir Karnik had bought while on a trip to the United States. “I see you’re interested in liberty, ” he added with a snicker. “Is this what gave you the idea?” he asked, twirling the statue in his hands. “Allowing your patients the liberty to abort girls?”

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” Karnik pressed his hands over his ears.

  He didn’t want to hear moralistic talk coming out of a deranged killer’s mouth. “You were told to find whatever evidence she was holding and bring it to me. If it wasn’t there, you were supposed to give up and go home. Maybe she was bluffing. Instead, you took it upon yourself to drug her servant with chloroform and snatch her sleeping child. What kind of animal are you?”

  “Wait a minute! You gave me the chloroform.”

  “That was last year, for Nikhil Tilak, in case he failed to cooperate, not for the helpless old servant, and not for his widow.”

  “The widow wasn’t even in the flat.”

  “Then where the hell was she?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe with her boyfriend, that doctor chap, Salvi.” Gowda gave him a sly wink. “It looks like the widow is having a love affair. She is quite a woman, nah? First she needles you with insinuations in public, and then she goes off with her boyfriend for some majah. ” Fun.

  Karnik’s jaw tightened at being reminded of his public humil-THE

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  iation by a slip of a woman, one less than half his age, too. Fortunately only a handful of people had overheard the conversation, and nothing incriminating had been said—only insinuations, like Gowda said. But it was embarrassing nevertheless, especially for a reputable doctor. Gossip in this town could spread faster than a dysentery epidemic during the monsoon season.

  He’d never forgive the little bitch for talking to him like that.

  It was her pregnancy that had set in motion this bloody c
hain of events in the first place. And he’d never forgive that Salvi, either, the snotty young pediatrician, for being her champion. Maybe he was sleeping with her.

  “I followed Salvi home after he left his office last evening,”

  added Gowda. “I didn’t think she was with him. But who knows? All I can tell you is she definitely wasn’t in her flat when I broke in.”

  “Thank God, or you would have given her a dose of chloroform, too—or worse, killed her. If that servant woman dies of an overdose, it will be one more murder on my conscience.” He blew out a shaky breath, thought about it for a moment. “So how are you planning to swap the child for the evidence without the police knowing about it?” Slanting an anxious look at Gowda, he asked, “You are planning to give the child back, I hope?”

  “Tsk-tsk, ” Gowda clucked, but said nothing.

  “Promise me you won’t hurt the child and you will return her to her mother,” growled Karnik. A massive headache was beginning to set in and he rubbed his temples to keep it at bay. He felt sick.

  “Arré, why are you having a fit? I’ll give her back, okay?”

  “When?”

  “I will make them a little more anxious, make them wait.”

  He scratched the back of his head, probably working it out in his demented brain. “Leave the details to me. You just have to pay me for my services.”

  Fear skittered down Karnik’s spine when he heard Gowda talk so casually. Things were spinning out of control. The man 256 Shobhan Bantwal

  standing in front of him was a perverted bastard. How had he not recognized that right from the beginning? Why hadn’t he seen that maniacal gleam in his devilish eyes? As a doctor, he should have noticed the man wasn’t quite normal, despite the good looks and personable demeanor.

  A heartless, knife-happy kidnapper-killer, who laughed about his crimes, was positively not normal.

  The first time, what had started out as a harmless way to get the evidence back from Nikhil Tilak had ended up in Tilak’s murder. This time, what was meant to be a simple theft had turned into a kidnapping. Coming on the heels of the scene at the hospital, the police were bound to look at Karnik as the prime suspect.