The second we stepped out into the open, I spotted a familiar figure across the street. It was the same strange man at the back of the room. He stood sentinel, watching me.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Earth to Hendy,” Aria’s voice sliced through my thoughts.
I blinked.
“You all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” I replied.
By the time I looked back across the street, the man was gone. Vanished as if he had never been there.
Who was he?
Was he even real, or was I just seeing things?
Chapter 2 – Karik
My office was quiet and dimly lit as it usually was at this time of night. I stood behind my desk with a hand in my pocket while facing the floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, the city was alive, buzzing with activity under the cold, distant stars. Somehow, the crescent moon hung in the sky behind a small cloud, its soft glow draped over the concrete landscape.
Skyscraper lights twinkled in the distance, and the faint wail of sirens drifted through the night. A thin thread of smoke curled around my face as the scent of tobacco filled the room.
Behind me, a clipped recording of a student presentation was playing in the background. At first, I didn’t think it was something worth my time. But after I was told that it was the reopening of a case that should’ve stayed buried, my interest was piqued.
One of my loyal men who was at the hearing that day at the university had recorded the whole thing. He was the one who urged me to listen, saying it was important.
I’d played it three times already, intrigued by the student’s findings and her confidence in her work. The first time, I listened for errors, hoping to find gaps in her logic. I thought she was an amateur and was convinced that if I listened carefully enough, I’d catch her flaws.
I didn’t.
The second time, I listened for sources. Someone must’ve fed her the information. At this point, my mind flew straight to Vetrov’s relatives. They were my first suspects, especially because she mentioned something along those lines during her presentation.
A few questions popped up in my head.
Who assigned her the case?
Was someone pulling strings behind this student?
Why did she request a reopening of the case?
Who was she working with?
Who was she?
This third time, I just listened, smoking in the dark. The office was so quiet that, even at low volume, the recording still sounded loud. I released a puff of smoke, paying close attention to the sound of her voice and the traces of anxiety laced underneath.
She sounded confident on the surface, but deep down, she was battling with anxiety. And that begged the question: Why was she anxious? Stage fright, or something much darker?
Whoever this student was, she’d caught my attention because I was now interested in her interest in this case.
“This doesn’t read like an investigation. It reads more like a constructed narrative that was successfully sold to the general public.”
That was a pretty bold statement coming from someone struggling to mask her fear and anxiety. At this point, I thought it was time to add a face to the voice, to know who this mysterious student was.
Good thing her file was handed to me together with the recording.
