The rain had turned into a storm by the time the Detective and Inspector Ratan left the library. Thunder echoed above Subarnagarh, matching the unease brewing inside them.
Back at the station, the Detective spread out the clues on a corkboard in Ratan's office:
The death of the unnamed student
The missing ID
Diptesh Chanda
The jagged triangle
Three missing girls—Sanchayita, Ishita, Debolina
And now—someone watching.
"Let's go over it again," Ratan said. "The girl who died was assumed to have committed suicide, but... no ID, and her face was mutilated beyond recognition."
The Detective nodded. "No ID means no confirmed identity. And the face... maybe it was meant to be unrecognizable."
"You think she was someone else?" Ratan asked.
"I think," she said slowly, "she was silenced. And the mutilation wasn't rage. It was erasure."
Ratan looked unsettled. "Then it wasn't suicide at all. It was murder."
The Detective picked up the photo of Diptesh Chanda again.
"He knew something. Or someone made him look guilty. And that triangle—"
"—keeps coming back," Ratan finished grimly.
She walked to the window, watching the lightning split the sky.
"Have you ever thought," she said quietly, "that this isn't about one person?"
"You mean a group?"
"Maybe not a formal group. But a network. Something hidden, something old."
Ratan rubbed his chin. "You mean like... cult activity?"
"Possibly," the Detective murmured. "Or a cover-up involving people with power."
She returned to the board and tapped on the corner where the photo of the dead girl was pinned.
"I want her name," she said. "The real one."
"But we don't have her ID," Ratan reminded her.
The Detective smiled faintly under her mask.
"But we have her fingerprints. From the autopsy report. You still have contacts in Forensics?"
Ratan nodded. "I'll make a call."
As he picked up the phone, the Detective whispered to herself:
"If we can prove she wasn't who they said she was... then we reopen the case."
---
Later that night...
The Detective sat alone in her room, the triangle symbol sketched in front of her. She stared at it for a long time. Not as a clue.
As a message.
A threat.
But maybe also—a signature.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. A message from Ratan:
> "Fingerprint results are in. You'll want to see this."
To Be Continued.....