The Eighth Night [Now published on Amazon]

Part 3

June 8, 2022

Delight emanated from the sharp features of the tall, voluptuous woman as her eyes traced Amrita's flaccid body, being carried away on a stretcher. Her maroon lips stretched to a side, and her eyes flitted to the man shuffling up to where she hid in plain view.

"It's done. Second one off the list!" said John, sighing and crossing his arms behind his back in deference to the woman.

"Yes," said the woman, the arch of her lips broadening. "You must have seen the look on her face when the realization of her fate struck! That dread, that shock, and that disappointment. Everything that she deserved to feel."

John arched an eyebrow and cleared his throat at the unabashed loathing and the exhilaration in her voice. He was far from a believer in violence, but he possessed no desire to voice his opinions to the elated woman and risk rousing her wrath.

After all, he did not want to be the one to end up on the stretcher next.

⨳ ⨳ ⨳

With her heart heavy with contrition and defeat and mind bogged with daunting prospects, the moist air of Goa hit Swadha differently. The anticipation had held her tight all night and sleep slipped right through her fingers.

Would they succeed? Was she even right? What if she was wrong? What if she had led them down the misguided path and snatched protection from the real victim? The list of what-ifs was far from complete and every single one on the list added to the weight of self-doubt, crushing her morale.

When sleep took over her without her knowledge, nightmares had plagued her until the terrible phone call, updating her about the fruitless attempt to protect Amrita, dragged her away from the arms of Morpheus. She had grabbed the keys of her Creta, without worrying about her modest night-suit, and hit the road as soon as she had disconnected the call from Abhimanyu.

The barricades were lifted and the doors of the hostel were opened for her, but unlike the times in the past where she had snuck into the hostel with a mischievous smile, it was a crestfallen frown that writhed her features. She had parked her car only on the third attempt–something she had not struggled since the first week of her driving lessons–and the transverse creases over her forehead deepened with frustration.

Without bothering to check if she had locked the car, she paced towards the towering figure of DSP Vikrant Arora, who looked into his phone as he typed away. "Sir..." she said, clearing her throat, which had turned dry. She had not allowed herself to drink some water before she dashed out.

Vikrant glanced over the screen of his phone when his eyes settled on the dishevelled and panting form of Dr. Swadha Agarwal. "Dr. Agarwal. Swadha..."

"Is it true?" she demanded, interjecting before he could complete his sentence. Vikrant let out a defeated sigh as he bowed his head and nodded in affirmation. He could swear he had heard a gasp, followed by a whimper escape her lips.

"I should not have walked out yesterday!" she said, closing her eyes shut and running her fingers over her throbbing forehead. "I couldn't take your veiled taunts, but if not for my walking out, maybe we could have saved Amrita!"

Swadha peered at the ground, not looking at the officer. She was livid at herself. The girls' hostel was being wrecked down by the forensics team for any hint of the kidnapper, and she was being wrecked by her own emotions of regret and self-loathing.

"Hey, it is not your fault! I crossed the line. But this is not the end, Swadha. This is probably just another phase of the kidnapper's plan, and we need your help in impeding the rest," said Vikrant. He placed his hand on her shoulder, hoping that his brief speech would boost her mood and morale and bring her out of self-pity, when she noticed an emerald ring on his middle finger.