As Isarish mulled over the strange circumstances surrounding the second victim's visit to Dr. Rafiq, the horsecar came to a halt in front of the clinic. The small, unassuming building looked more like a house than a professional medical establishment. The nameplate outside read "Dr. Rafiq's Clinic" in simple lettering, giving no indication of the dark secrets that might be lurking inside.
Isarish's gaze remained focused on the clinic as the inspector Rayhan stepped out of the car beside him. His thoughts were still swirling, but one thing was clear: something about this case didn't add up.
"Why would he go to see a doctor for something as vague as his wife's pregnancy?" Isarish thought, his mind working at a fever pitch. "And why did he mention the baby in such a cryptic way? Was something wrong with the baby? Or was it a cover for something else?"
As Isarish and the inspector Rayhan approached the clinic, Isarish's instincts were still sharp, and his eyes kept darting to the narrow alley beside the building. Something about the way the figure in the shadows was lingering didn't sit right with him.
"Stay close," he muttered to the inspector Rayhan, his voice low but urgent. "I'll check the alley."
The inspector Rayhan hesitated for a moment but followed Isarish's lead. They both entered the narrow alley, moving carefully between the walls that barely left room for them to pass. Isarish's gaze swept the space, his mind working on overdrive. "Something—someone—was following us since I witnessed the corpse of 3rd victim."
They reached the end of the alley, and just as Isarish was about to turn around, he spotted a movement—a slight figure entering the alley from the other side. A girl, no older than ten or eleven, was walking cautiously but with purpose, her eyes glancing nervously over her shoulder as she moved deeper into the shadows.
Isarish's sharp eyes locked onto her. She's the one who's been following us.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward, grabbing her arm just as she tried to duck further into the alley, startled by his sudden presence.
"Gotcha," he muttered, his grip firm but not unkind.
The girl gasped and froze, her wide blue eyes staring up at him in shock. She had pale skin and blonde hair, her face still flushed from the cold air. She wasn't trying to run, but her body language screamed anxiety.
"What do you think you're doing?" Isarish asked, his voice low and demanding.
Before the girl could respond, the inspector Rayhan, who had been right behind Isarish, stepped up beside them. He was visibly taken aback by the sight of the young girl, standing so conspicuously in an alley near a crime scene.
"Isarish, what's going on here?" the inspector Rayhan asked, his tone filled with confusion. "Who is this?"
Isarish didn't answer right away. Instead, he focused on the girl, studying her closely. Something about her didn't fit, and the feeling in his gut was growing stronger. She was too out of place here.
"What's your name?" Isarish asked, his voice stern, yet controlled.
The girl hesitated, her blue eyes darting around, trying to escape his gaze. "A-Alice," she stammered, her lips quivering. "Alice Walker."
"Where are you from, Alice?" Isarish pressed further, not letting up on his grip.
"I… I'm from the Great Britian," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I'm just looking for someone... Dr. Rafiq."
Isarish's mind clicked. Dr. Rafiq again. This wasn't just a coincidence anymore.
Before Isarish could respond, the girl spoke again, this time more urgently. "Please… you don't understand. I… I was looking for him... for my brother. He's dead. He's the third victim."
Isarish froze for a moment, his grip tightening on Alice's arm as her words settled in. The third victim—a missing person? This wasn't just a string of random deaths. There was something deliberate happening here, and Alice Walker had just opened the door to the truth.
"Your brother?" Isarish repeated, his voice low, his mind already processing the new information. "Who is your brother, Alice? What does he have to do with this case?"
"He is the 3rd victim. He adopted me when I got lost in this city. My parents never came back to find me. He was the one who was for me and the only one." Her voice was trembling as her tears were falling down. "He used to work for Dr. Rafiq. ... but now he's dead, and no one is telling me anything. Please, you have to help me find out what happened."
The puzzle pieces clicked into place. The third victim, had a connection to Dr. Rafiq after all.
Isarish looked at the inspector Rayhan, who was still processing the sudden turn of events. He could tell that the inspector Rayhan was struggling to make sense of the girl's sudden appearance and her claims, but Isarish's focus was sharp.
"Alice," Isarish said, his tone softening just slightly, "we're going to find out what happened to your brother. But you need to tell me everything you know about Dr. Rafiq. Now."
Alice nodded quickly; her fear still palpable but tempered with a glimmer of hope. She knew she had just given Isarish a lead that could unravel the entire case.
"Dr. Rafiq... he's not just a doctor," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think he's been involved in things... bad things. People go to him for help, but they don't come back. Arjun... he was different. He knew something, and now he's gone. I... I think someone's trying to cover it up."
Isarish exchanged a glance with the inspector Rayhan, who nodded, his expression hardening. The case had just taken a much darker turn. This wasn't just a series of random deaths—it was something far more complex, and Dr. Rafiq was at the centre of it.
"Stay with us, Alice," Isarish said, his voice firm as he began to move toward the clinic.
As they headed back toward the clinic, Isarish's thoughts were racing. The third victim wasn't just another statistic—it was personal. And somehow, Dr. Rafiq was at the heart of it all.
The clinic was eerily quiet, the street outside empty. The wind curled through the narrow back lane like a whisper dragging its feet.
They stood behind the clinic now—facing a door that looked less like an entrance and more like a sealed confession.
Rust kissed its hinges. A single padlock hung at the handle, old and stubborn, like it had grown too used to keeping things in.
Isarish stared at it. Not with urgency—just certainty.
"He didn't come here to be healed," he said softly. "He came here… to vanish."
Rayhan shifted beside him, voice tight.
"This isn't legal."
Isarish didn't reply. He bent down, picked up a loose brick from the crumbled border wall, and weighed it in his hand like a sentence being rehearsed.
"Neither is silence."
He struck.
Once.
The padlock groaned.
Twice.
The metal cracked with a reluctant surrender.
The door creaked open—not loud, but long. As if the building exhaled for the first time in days.
Isarish stepped in first.
Rayhan hesitated. Alice didn't.
Inside, the air was stale. Not rotten—just… old. Like the place had decided to age all at once.
Dust floated mid-air like forgotten prayers.
The hallway stretched narrow and beige. No signs of life. No blood, either. Just absence wearing a lab coat.
Cabinets stood shut. Folders sat stacked behind glass. But everything looked untouched—like someone had tried too hard to prove nothing happened here.
Isarish moved slowly, each step like punctuation.
"Stay close," he said—more to the silence than to the people behind him.
Alice followed without question. Her small frame barely cast a shadow. But her eyes didn't miss a single corner—as if searching for pieces of someone who'd once walked here with a pulse and a promise.
Rayhan's revolver remained drawn. Not for defense. For courage.
Their footsteps were soft, muffled by a worn carpet. Yet the sound still echoed—as if the walls themselves were hollow enough to remember.
And then…
Light.
A door, slightly ajar at the end of the corridor.
Warm yellow spilled out through the gap like a secret that hadn't decided whether to hide or confess.
Isarish raised a hand. Paused.
Then pushed the door open with two fingers.
Inside—
A desk sat under a crooked ceiling lamp. Its glow buzzed faintly, like it was nervous to be awake.
Papers sprawled across the surface. Folders with names—too many. Too familiar.
Arjun's among them.
Beside the desk, slumped carelessly across a chair, hung a dark coat.
Heavy. Thick. Still holding the shape of a man who had left too fast.
"This is it," Isarish murmured. "We're in his echo now."
Rayhan moved forward, stunned. "Are those… all connected to the victims?"
Isarish didn't answer.
He already knew.
"These aren't case files. They're footprints."
But then—
A creak.
A door.
Somewhere deeper.
Footsteps. Slow. Too slow.
Measured.
Not discovery.
Inspection.
Isarish turned. One look to Alice. One to Rayhan.
No words.
Only a raised hand. A signal.
Hide.
They ducked into the shadows near a storage alcove, pressed between file shelves and silence.
Alice clutched Isarish's sleeve—trembling, not in fear, but in a child's fragile memory of safety.
Rayhan pressed to the wall. His finger curled around the trigger like it might anchor him.
The footsteps came closer—heels soft on the carpet, but heavy on the air.
Then… a figure appeared in the doorway.
He didn't enter like a man returning.
He entered like a man confirming.
Tall. Slim. Dark coat sweeping behind him like smoke that hadn't found a fire.
Hat low. Gaze sweeping the room—slow, practiced, precise.
The silence thickened.
And Isarish, still crouched, eyes narrow, lips just parting—
"Dr. Rafiq," he whispered.
Not an accusation.
A diagnosis.