The COMPLETE Siya Rajput Crime Thrillers (Books 1 to 4)

by UD Yasha

  On reaching the top of the stairs, they saw two hawaldars standing next to a man.

  ‘That’s the bank employee who found the bodies,’ Bhalerao said. ‘His name is Shaun Richards.’

  Shaun looked like he was in his mid-forties. His eyes were swollen red and his hand was shivering. In it, he was holding a pendant with a cross on it while he whispered a prayer.

  ‘We’ll talk to him once we check what’s inside,’ Rathod said.

  A hawaldar gave them a hand towel to dab their plastic overalls dry. They ducked under the yellow duck tapes and entered the living room.

  ‘You’ll also need this,’ he said, handing them face masks. The bodies are in the garden on the terrace,’ the hawaldar said. ‘I saw them. The place looks a mess.’

  A different hawaldar guided them inside. Rathod took a moment to feel the ambience. The air inside was damp as if fresh air had not been able to seep in for a while. But the living room floor did not have a thin layer of dust on it, indicating that it had been cleaned not so long ago. It was a huge place but looked even bigger because of the extremely high ceilings. The architecture looked old because of the grandiose style, the excessive use of columns, large windows and arches. To add to the theme, a big old staircase opened up in the middle of the living room.

  The hawaldar led the way as Rathod and Bhalerao walked to the terrace. The old style of architecture was consistent throughout the house.

  On reaching the top, the hawaldar pointed at a corridor and said, ‘Just follow the corridor and it’ll open into the terrace.’

  As they reached the end of the corridor, Bhalerao said, ‘The moment of truth.’

  They first noticed the number of dead bodies. There were six of them. All at various stages of decomposition. Rathod and Bhalerao had seen various dead bodies in their career but seeing six with varying degrees of damage was gut-wrenching. Rathod cleared his throat and adjusted his mask.

  The bodies were kept on a five-foot-tall bed of soil. Some were partially buried while the others were not. Rathod guessed that all were buried at some point and that scavengers had preyed on them in due course.

  ‘What the hell,’ Bhalerao whispered under his breath.

  ‘I’ve never seen something like this,’ Rathod said.

  The bodies were arranged at one end of the terrace. The furthest one had decomposed the most such that only its skeletons remained. The one closest to them was decaying but still had flesh. Different coloured fluid had leaked out of it. The ones in the middle ranged from being only skeletons to having very little flesh.

  They next noticed the flies in the air. The bodies had been covered with temporary plastic tents, but the flies were still buzzing outside the plastic, eyeing the feast that lay in front of them. Far in the sky, in the fading sunset, they also saw the silhouettes of vultures. The farmhouse was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a moderately-thick forest. No one but the scavengers would have known they were there.

  Rathod knew that buried bodies took anywhere between eight to twelve years for complete decomposition. But in this case, all of them had been dug out and preyed on by birds, insects and worms. He would have to wait for the medical examiner to present him the findings. Given the extent of damage to most of the bodies, the forensic department was going to have to work overtime.

  Rathod walked along the soil bed. The smell of decay seeped in through his mask so he held his breath. He realized that all bodies had been dressed up just before being buried. Though now, the clothes were in tatters because of the scavengers.

  ‘There is a method to this madness,’ he said.

  ‘This is one nasty serial killer,’ Bhalerao said, joining Rathod by his left elbow.

  ‘And it looks like the most recent victim did not die long ago.’

  Because the decay and scavenging on the two most recent victims were not yet complete, their bodies appeared the most gruesome. Rathod leaned over the most recent victim to spot any injuries or marks on the body. He squinted his eyes as he pulled out a torch and held it against the body. All he could see was decaying flesh and some bones along with maggots who were having a feast inside.

  Rathod shook his head, realizing there was no point in him spending any more time with the bodies.

  ‘We’ll start by looking into the owners of this place. The guy is dead now but maybe his relatives and friends,’ Bhalerao said.

  Rathod narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t think any of them would be involved. Well, at least not directly. Maybe the killer knew one of them and frisked off their keys or knew about this farmhouse being empty. But apart from that, and that is a stretch, I don’t think we’re dealing with someone ordinary here.’ Rathod swept a glance across at the six bodies once again. ‘Whoever is capable of doing this is a freaking monster.’

  Chapter Four

  Meena Kiran had buried her face in her hands while she was wailing. I stood next to her and stroked her back. As she heaved for air while crying, I thought back to why she had seemed familiar to me the first time around.

  During the years when Maa was missing and presumed dead, the investigation into her disappearance had always occupied my mind. I had followed every possible clue and met hundreds of people to find out what had happened to maa. When I had realized that Maa’s disappearance was connected to a serial killer preying on women across India, I had examined each and every possible victim.

  At that point, I had come across Swapna Kiran. Swapna was Meena’s mother and had disappeared into thin air just like my mother. They used to stay in Mumbai back then. I had even spoken to Meena’s father on the phone. The night Swapna had disappeared, her bathroom had been splashed with blood, just like the Maa's bathroom on the day she had vanished.

  Eventually, almost six years ago, when the police had traced those crimes back to Zakkal, they had found the bodies of some women who were believed to have been killed by him. But not all of his victims were found as some women—like Maa—were in the care of Zakkal’s protégé Ranjit Kadam. They were eventually rescued two years ago when we caught Ranjit, only to realize that the entire plot all along was to create the perfect recipe for Zakkal to escape jail.

  As I thought back to that period, a chill ran up my spine when I recalled the night we had been led to a field where Zakkal had arranged ten glass jars around a small lamp. Five jars had human hearts while the other five had human hair. It was Zakkal’s perverted way of telling us that five women were dead and five were still alive. That’s how I had gotten to know for certain that Maa was still alive. Swapna Kiran was amongst the other women still alive. The last I heard, which was soon after Zakkal had escaped from prison, Swapna was recovering from the brutal trauma she had endured while she had been in the captivity of Zakkal first, and then Ranjit. I remember Rathod telling me that the police had put a security detail outside the houses of the women who had been rescued back then. But it had been more than two years since Zakkal had escaped. Having security of any kind, even a junior hawaldar cost money. The security detail would have lasted a few weeks at the most.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Meena said, wiping her tears as more streamed down her face. ‘It’s just that I’m very scared. My mother…she’s still not alright. She still wakes up in the middle of the night every week. She is afraid to even stay alone for more than a few minutes. I’m just too scared, Siya. I truly am.’

  My heart went out to Meena. I had some idea of what might have been going through her mind. I had been experiencing a form of a similar fear, anger and frustration for the last six months. I could not imagine how much harder it must have been for Meena. At least I had a background in criminal investigations. Meena and her mother had gone through a lot already.

  ‘I understand. Don’t worry about anything. Take your time,’ I said. ‘I’ll get you some coffee.’

  I crossed to the coffee machine in the garage and poured us both cups. I handed Meena one. We sat in silence for a while as Meena gathered her thoughts. I knew the pain that Zakkal had
caused her. Meena would have believed that her mother had died a long ago while she was still abducted. She must have felt the pain that accompanies death. But then, two years ago, that would have changed. Getting her mother back would have changed her life altogether. The almost-impossible situation had played out—the person she loved the most in her life had returned.

  But now, being contacted by Zakkal again would have ripped open the wounds that had faded away on the return of her mother. I let her be and observed her closely as she sipped her coffee. She must have been roughly as old as me which put her in her early thirties. Her eyes were baggy and her voice had quivered every time she had spoken. She was dressed in a white salwaar and light green kurta. It was a long seven minutes before she spoke again.

  'I'm better now,' Meena said almost as soon as she finished her coffee. She gulped hard as if she was summoning up the courage and said, 'He was in my house. That bastard. He entered my bedroom. I wasn't there then but I think that was by design. He didn't want me there. Instead, he wanted me to find something that he had left behind. He put it in my drawer of undergarments. I'm just glad he did not keep anything in my mother's room. I fear what would have happened if she had found this letter in her room instead. I'm glad it was me. I haven't even told her about this.'

  ‘I know this is hard beyond imagination. This should not be happening. Can you please show me what Zakkal left in your drawer?’ I said.

  ‘I have got it with me. Wait, I’ll show it to you.’ The tone of Meena’s voice had become steadier. She rummaged in her small purse and took out a plastic bag. This bag was slightly bigger than the one in which he had sent me Maa's earring. It was transparent and I could see paper inside.

  ‘There are two letters inside,’ Meena said. ‘One is folded into the other. The outer one was addressed to me.’

  Meena handed me the papers she was referring to. I pulled a drawer under my desk in the garage and took out a pair of gloves. I put them on and took the letter from Meena.

  Chapter Five

  I carefully unfolded the letter.

  Hello Meena,

  It has been a long time since I have met you. I have been looking at you from a distance and I am thrilled to know the kind of woman you have become. Anyways, that's beside the point. I'm not writing to tell you that. I would not waste paper on it. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you all the good things about you in person. Who knows? You, me and your mother could have a fun chat one evening. I remember her being a lovely woman herself.

  Look at me blabbering. Please pardon me. I’m writing to you for a very specific reason. You need to give the other letter folded inside this one to Siya Rajput. I know you know of her. How could you not? She’s the one who caught me. But she’s also the one because of whom I’m breathing this fine air.

  If you try to act smart and don’t hand the other letter to Siya, I assure you there will be consequences. I know where you stay. I know how your bedsheets smell. And I also know that you only eat half a pack of ice-cream on your cheat days, keeping the rest in the fridge. I must tell you that the butterscotch flavour you get home might be the best butterscotch I have had. I also love the way your mother screams every now and then in the night. I won’t say much, but just that there was one time when she did not scream because she had a nightmare—she might have actually seen me.

  I won’t ramble along for much longer.

  You know what to do.

  Yours,

  Kishore Zakkal

  I tried to mask my outrage when I finished reading it.

  ‘He was inside my house, in my room. In my mother’s room. He could have…could have… you know,’ Meena said, her voice shaking again.

  I knew how Zakkal operated. He stalked his victims, broke into their homes, watched them carry out their daily activities, even lived in their homes without them knowing and then struck when he could not control himself any longer. The entire process, beginning with stalking his target, was a part of killing someone. My first instinct was that neither Meena nor her mother were in danger. Zakkal would have killed them if he wanted to. He had only used them as a ploy to get to me. He had succeeded in that.

  ‘I’m going to ask someone I know to put a security guard outside your house. It’ll keep you safe for now,’ I said, knowing that I needed to speak with Kapil Rathod soon.

  In my quest to find Zakkal and put him away for good, I knew I had to make him do things he would not have otherwise done. Zakkal was too self-centred to relay messages to me through other people. That he had to go through Meena meant that he felt he could not reach me directly. That also meant we were safe for now. And while I was almost certain that Meena was not in any danger, the security detail would keep her safe too. I also wondered about the other women that Zakkal had abducted, and how they would need protection too.

  ‘Here,’ Meena said, handing me the letter that Zakkal had written to me.

  ‘Thanks for sharing this with me,’ I said, accepting the letter. ‘Coming here and giving this to me must have taken a lot of courage. You have done the right thing. Going forward, I don’t think Zakkal is going to bother you.’

  That seemed to comfort Meena only a little. But then, she was only going to feel comfortable when Zakkal was caught.

  I turned my focus to Zakkal’s letter.

  I held it in my hands. Right away, it felt heavier than the first. There was something else inside it—not just strokes of ink on paper. As I unfolded the letter, I had a fair idea of what it might be. When I had fully opened it, I saw a tiny plastic bag with a zipper pasted at the bottom of the page with some sticky tape. There was a small flower inside it, which I was sure would have the pollen grain of the place that Zakkal was directing us to.

  I had first caught Zakkal by tracing him to a murder with the help of palynology—the study of pollen grains. By their very nature, being plants' sex organs, pollen grains attract other pollen, making it possible to trace their movements. Pollen sticks easily to everyday objects, including clothes and shoes. As each pollen interacts with its environment and other pollens, it provides a very accurate picture of where all it has travelled. Because of the seasonal changes, you could also get a reasonably accurate time-stamped location, making pollen grains nature's very own GPS.

  Now, Zakkal was teasing us with a clue.

  Above the small flower, Zakkal had written a message for me. I recognized the strokes of handwriting. It had not been long since I had last received a note from him. I read the message in my mind.

  Dear Siya,

  You know you're my favourite girl, right? I have tried to make you feel special so I hope you know how much you mean to me. There was a point in time when your mother was my favourite girl. But there's something about you that I can't put my finger on—but I feel like I'm drawn to you; in more passionate ways than I'm drawn to your mother or even your sister. I don't believe in destiny but dare I say, this just might be "meant to be". In these past few days, I have realized that love is a much more powerful emotion than lust. So, please come home to me. I’m waiting for you.

  I’m going to keep this short because I would rather keep all the good things for when we meet. But here’s what I want to tell you. Everything that happens from now on is on you. All the blood, all the deaths, all the fun. It’s on you. Consider yourself warned.

  Meet soon.

  Miss all of you.

  XOXO.

  PS- I hope you liked the birthday gift I sent you. I never heard back from you. Where are your manners, Siya?

  Yours truly,

  Kishore Zakkal

  I did not feel any emotion as I finished reading the letter. It was as if the months of being subconsciously afraid had prepared me for this moment. There were two parts I focused on. Everything that happens from now on is on you. All the blood, all the deaths, all the fun. It’s on you. Consider yourself warned. He wanted me to do something. I wasn’t sure what it was though. Was he asking me to surrender myself to him? Surrender Maa or Radha?
I wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear. He was coming after me, and for Zakkal, everything else was collateral damage. Secondly, I plucked out the plastic bag containing the flower. I would have to get it analysed immediately. For all I knew, someone might be in danger.

  ‘When did you get this?’ I said.

  ‘I found it in my drawer today afternoon,’ Meena said and paused. Her next words answered the question on my mind. ‘Zakkal must have come to my house sometime yesterday. My mother and I had gone out for some time. I wouldn’t have missed the letter the way it was kept in the drawer.

  I glanced at my smartphone. It was seven forty-five in the evening. The sun had completely set and the moonlight was beaming down on us.

  ‘What time had you gone out yesterday?’ I asked.

  ‘We had stepped out for dinner. We must have been gone between eight and ten at night.’

  So, it was almost twenty-four hours since Zakkal had dropped this message. I turned to Meena and thanked her again for sharing the letters with me.

  ‘Do you think we should contact the police?’ Meena said.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do now,’ I said. ‘It might take time for them to go through this and give you a security detail. Do you have any friends or family whose house you can crash at for the night?’

  Meena nodded frantically. ‘Yes, my cousins stay in Pune. I can go to their house. It’s a big family so there’ll be strength in numbers.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. Please do that. Zakkal is not an idiot to harm you in a place he’s not familiar with. Please don’t hesitate to call me if anything comes up. I’ll be in touch with you regardless.’

  ‘I hope you get that son of a bitch,’ Meena said and got up to leave.