Chapter Two: The Coward(part1)
The police jeep cut through the early morning mist, its engine humming steadily as it sped toward the outskirts of the city. The sky was still pale, not fully awake, just like the streets they passed—empty, quiet, and holding secrets from the night before.
Inside the vehicle, Sergeant Nikhil sat in the passenger seat, his eyes calm, observant, always thinking. Beside him, leaning slightly forward with his arms resting on his knees, was Akhil—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and visibly irritated.
Akhil broke the silence.
"What do you think?"
Nikhil didn't answer immediately. He stared ahead, as if piecing together something invisible.
"Same pattern," he finally said. "But this time… we have a witness."
Akhil scoffed lightly. "Fourth case," he muttered. "And the higher-ups still pretend nothing's happening."
He leaned back, frustration building in his voice.
"They're covering it up. Saying it's to avoid public panic. But that's nonsense. Serial killings like this? They're usually made public so people stay alert."
Nikhil glanced at him but stayed quiet.
"No night patrols. No alerts. And on top of that, strict orders not to investigate anything beyond 'assigned matters'." Akhil clenched his jaw. "This is our jurisdiction. Someone is playing a damn game in our area."
He paused, then added in a lower tone—
"And now they're bringing in a task force."
Nikhil raised an eyebrow. "Task force?"
"From the government. Under the military."
That made Nikhil turn.
"Military?" he repeated.
Akhil nodded. "For what? A murder case? Unless…" He hesitated, then said it anyway. "Unless this isn't just murder."
The jeep driver chuckled softly from the front.
"I'm telling you," Akhil continued, ignoring him, "the bodies… completely drained of blood. How? What kind of method does that? Some experiment? Something they're hiding?"
He cursed under his breath.
"These higher-ups…"
Nikhil suddenly smiled faintly.
"Relax," he said. "I'm here."
Akhil looked at him.
"I'll kick that killer's ass."
The driver let out a laugh.
Both Nikhil and Akhil slowly turned toward him with sharp, warning eyes.
The driver immediately cleared his throat. "Uh… weather's nice today, sir."
Silence returned.
⸻
At the roadside shop, tension filled the air.
A group of men stood around one person who was clearly not in his senses.
"It was a devil!" the man kept repeating. "A devil! Blood everywhere… she's not human… she's a ghost!"
His hands trembled. His eyes were wide with terror.
Then—
A police jeep pulled up.
Two men stepped out.
One tall and muscular—Akhil.
The other lean, composed, with sharp, calculating eyes—Nikhil.
They showed their badges and approached the shopkeeper.
"What happened?" Akhil asked.
The shopkeeper quickly explained everything and pointed toward the trembling man.
"That's him. He saw it."
Without wasting time, Akhil and Nikhil walked straight toward him.
The man—Ranjith—was murmuring to himself.
"Devil… oh God… devil…"
Nikhil gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What happened?"
Ranjith froze.
Then suddenly—
He jumped back in fear.
His breathing became rapid as he looked at them.
"Officers… please… help me…" he stammered. "My friend… a foreign girl… she killed him…"
Nikhil's expression didn't change.
"Are you sure?" he asked calmly. "You were drunk. Did something happen? Did you—"
"No, sir!" Ranjith broke down. "I didn't do anything!"
Tears streamed down his face.
"My name is Ranjith. My friend Ajay… we work in the same company… childhood friends… we studied together… got jobs together…"
His voice cracked.
"He got promoted yesterday. We celebrated… we were going home…"
He paused, shaking.
"Then… that girl…"
Akhil raised his hand, cutting him off.
"Enough. Come with us."
He turned to the bystanders. "Everyone leave. Nothing to see here."
Reluctantly, the crowd began to disperse.
⸻
Inside the jeep, Ranjith sat trembling. His face was pale, his eyes hollow.
Nikhil watched him carefully.
"He's not lying," Nikhil said quietly to Akhil.
Akhil nodded once.
The jeep moved again.
⸻
They reached the crime scene.
Ranjith suddenly pushed the door open and stumbled out.
A small crowd had already gathered—early morning joggers who had discovered the body.
One of them approached the officers.
"Sir, we were jogging… we saw the body… we were about to call the police…"
Nikhil didn't respond.
He walked straight to the corpse.
He crouched down.
Examined.
His eyes moved over every detail—the skin, the wounds, the unnatural stillness.
Then he whispered to himself—
"Blood… completely drained."
Akhil signaled the driver. "Call the ambulance."
Then he turned to the joggers.
"You can leave. If anyone took photos, they will be confiscated."
One jogger shook his head quickly. "No sir… we just got here… didn't even think of it…"
Another added nervously, "He looks… old… like all his energy is gone… like something… fed on him…"
Akhil's voice hardened.
"Enough. No stories. Let us do our job."
The men left.
The ambulance arrived shortly after. The body was taken away.
⸻
Behind them—
Ranjith had fallen to his knees.
He was crying.
But no sound came out.
It was as if his voice had been taken from him.
A silent breakdown.
Nikhil watched him closely.
He could see it.
The guilt.
The fear.
The self-hatred.
He walked up slowly.
"Don't worry," Nikhil said. "We'll find the killer."
Ranjith didn't respond.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Then—
A broken voice escaped.
"He told me to run…"
Nikhil stayed silent.
"He told me to run…" Ranjith repeated. "I could have helped… I could have done something…"
His hands trembled violently.
"But I ran… I just ran… I was scared…"
Nikhil placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Come with us," he said. "We need your help."
Ranjith slowly looked up.
"You saw the killer. That makes you important."
After a long pause—
Ranjith stood up.
He walked toward the jeep.
Step by step.
Like a man carrying something heavier than himself.
He got inside.
The jeep started.
As it drove away, the morning sun finally began to rise.
Inside the vehicle sat a man who had lost his best friend—
Not just to death…
But to his own fear.
A man who ran when it mattered most.
A man who would never forget that moment.
A man who, from that night onward, would be known by one name—
The Coward.