A unknown caller - Part 1

The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the police station, casting long shadows on the tile floor. It was Vikram Mehra's first day as a sub-inspector, and the weight of the uniform seemed heavier than he had anticipated. Standing at the entrance, he took a deep breath, feeling the crisp collar of his shirt brush against his neck. The smell of freshly brewed chai mixed with the musty scent of worn-out files and decades-old woodwork. This was it. His moment.

He had worked hard to get here—countless hours spent in training, sleepless nights going over criminal codes, practicing his endurance, sharpening his instincts. Yet, as much as he had prepared, nothing compared to the reality of stepping into a police station for the first time, not as a recruit, but as an officer.

"Hey, fresh blood!" A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Vikram turned to see a middle-aged constable, with a thick mustache and graying hair, leaning against one of the desks. His uniform had the casual wear-and-tear of someone who had spent a lifetime in service. The man's eyes gleamed with amusement as he looked at Vikram's polished boots and pristine shirt.

"Nervous, huh?" The constable chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. "Don't worry, lad. The first day's always the toughest. After that, you won't even remember it."

Vikram smiled politely, though he felt the butterflies in his stomach. "Just want to get off on the right foot, sir."

The constable raised an eyebrow. "Sir? You're too green to be calling anyone sir just yet." He extended his hand. "Name's Murthy. Been here longer than that desk's been around. You'll get used to the chaos soon enough."

"Vikram Mehra," Vikram introduced himself, shaking the constable's hand.

Murthy sized him up, eyes lingering on the crispness of Vikram's uniform. "So, Mehra, first day jitters, eh? Word of advice: don't let the paperwork get to you. That's the real enemy."

"Paperwork?" Vikram asked, genuinely curious.

Murthy grinned. "You thought it was all car chases and catching criminals, didn't you?" He leaned in closer. "Nah, kid. Half the time it's forms, reports, and making sure you don't miss a single signature. But you'll learn. Eventually."

Before Vikram could respond, a voice boomed from the far corner of the station. "Mehra! Get over here."

It was Inspector Kadam, his commanding officer. The man stood tall, his wide shoulders stretching the fabric of his uniform. His hair, speckled with gray, gave him an air of authority that demanded respect without effort. Vikram had heard stories about him during training—a hard-nosed, no-nonsense officer who had been part of several high-profile cases.

"Yes, sir!" Vikram straightened up immediately and walked briskly to Kadam's desk.

Inspector Kadam looked up from the file he was reviewing and gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit down, Mehra."

Vikram obeyed, keeping his posture rigid. He felt Kadam's eyes on him, sizing him up in the same way Murthy had, but with much more intensity.

"So, you're the new recruit, huh?" Kadam finally spoke, his voice gruff but steady. "Think you're ready for this?"

"Yes, sir. I'm ready," Vikram replied confidently.

Kadam leaned back in his chair, studying Vikram for a moment. "Good. You're going to need that confidence. This job... it's not what most people think. You might have aced your exams and topped the physicals, but out there, things don't go by the book. You'll be dealing with situations that test more than just your knowledge of the law. You'll need instincts, patience, and sometimes—" he paused, locking eyes with Vikram, "a little bit of luck."

Vikram nodded. "I understand, sir."

"I hope so," Kadam said, his tone softening slightly. "Because once you step out of this station in that uniform, you represent more than just yourself. You represent the law, and that's a responsibility you can't take lightly."

There was a brief silence, filled only by the distant chatter of constables and the occasional ring of the station phone. Vikram felt the weight of Kadam's words settle on him, heavier than the uniform he wore. This was no longer about him alone. Every decision he made, every action he took, would impact the people who relied on the police for their safety.

Kadam reached for a file on his desk and slid it toward Vikram. "Your first case won't be glamorous. No high-speed chases, no shootouts. It's more about learning the ropes. A few petty thefts, some neighborhood disputes. But don't underestimate the small cases, Mehra. They're the ones that will teach you the most."

Vikram took the file, nodding. "I won't, sir. I'll make sure to give it my all."

Kadam smirked slightly, as if amused by Vikram's enthusiasm. "We'll see. Now, go familiarize yourself with the station. I'll call you when something comes up."

Vikram stood up and saluted. "Thank you, sir."

As he walked away, Murthy caught his eye again, giving him a knowing smile. "Kadam give you the 'big responsibility' speech, huh? Don't worry, kid. It's part of the initiation."

Vikram smiled back but felt the gravity of the moment still hanging over him. He was officially a police officer, and the journey ahead, filled with challenges and unknowns, had just begun.

He moved toward his desk, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. His first case might not be a thrilling one, but it was his, and he intended to handle it with the utmost care. Just as he was about to sit down, the phone on his desk rang, sharp and loud, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Sub-Inspector Vikram Mehra, speaking," he said, answering the call with newfound confidence.

The voice on the other end was faint, barely more than a whisper. "Help me... he's coming for me."

Before Vikram could respond, the line went dead.

Vikram stared at the phone in his hand, the woman's desperate voice still echoing in his ears. "Help me... he's coming for me." There was something haunting about those words. They weren't just a cry for help—they were soaked in fear, as if she had called knowing it might be her last chance.

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His first day, and already the weight of the uniform felt heavier. There was no manual for a call like this, no checklist to follow. But he couldn't just sit there and let the uncertainty paralyze him. He needed to act.

Vikram stood from his desk and walked quickly over to Inspector Kadam's office, knocking on the doorframe. Kadam was sitting behind his desk, his face buried in a stack of reports. Without looking up, he grunted, "What is it, Mehra?"

"Sir, I just got a call—"

Kadam raised his hand, cutting him off. "If it's about paperwork, just ask Murthy. He's the expert on filing useless complaints."

Vikram shook his head, stepping forward. "It's not about that, sir. I got a call from a woman. She sounded terrified. She said someone was coming for her, and then the line went dead."

That got Kadam's attention. He looked up, his brows knitting together as he leaned back in his chair, studying Vikram for a moment. "You sure it wasn't a prank? Happens more often than you'd think. People get a thrill out of wasting our time."

"I don't think so," Vikram said, his voice steady but insistent. "Her voice—it didn't sound like a joke. She was genuinely scared. I called the number back, but no one answered. I think we should look into it."

Kadam sat in silence for a moment, then let out a deep sigh. "Alright, Mehra. You've got your instincts, and I'll trust them—for now. But don't get ahead of yourself. Start with the basics. Trace the number, see if you can get any location data, and look through recent complaints in the area. It might not be the big break you're hoping for, but we can't ignore it."

"Understood, sir." Vikram nodded, grateful for the opportunity to investigate.

"And, Mehra," Kadam added as Vikram turned to leave, "don't go storming off like you're in a Bollywood action scene. You're new. Stay cautious."

Vikram gave a quick salute before heading back to his desk. The task ahead was clear, but still, he felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. This could be his first real case—a chance to prove himself. He quickly typed the number into the tracing software, hoping it would lead him somewhere concrete. But as the results came back, his optimism faltered.

Number untraceable.

"Disposable phone," Vikram muttered under his breath. It wasn't surprising, but it was frustrating. Whoever had made the call didn't want to be found. His thoughts raced—who was the woman? What was she running from?

Not wanting to lose momentum, he opened the case files from the past few days, sifting through them for anything that might connect. It didn't take long before something caught his eye.

A report from the previous day, filed by a woman named *Nina Kaul*. She had complained about being followed near her apartment, claiming she'd seen a man loitering outside her building for several nights in a row. The police had made a routine check but found nothing. The case had been marked as a "non-urgent matter." Vikram's pulse quickened. The address was on the outskirts of the city, not far from where the call might have originated. It was a long shot, but it was the only lead he had.

He printed the report and grabbed his helmet. Just as he was about to leave, Murthy's voice called out from across the room. "Going somewhere, fresh blood?"

Vikram glanced back, his expression serious. "Following up on a lead."

Murthy leaned back in his chair, smirking. "That didn't take long. First day, and you're already chasing ghosts?"

"Maybe," Vikram replied, determined, "but I'd rather chase ghosts than sit around waiting for them to haunt me."

Murthy chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, just don't get lost in the process. This city's full of dead ends, and not all of them are easy to get out of."

---

The drive to the apartment complex took longer than Vikram expected. The traffic was relentless, and the heat seemed to seep through every inch of his uniform. His mind was racing with possibilities. Who was this woman? Was it Nina who had called? And more importantly, was she still in danger?

The apartment building, when he finally arrived, was a modest structure—old and a little run-down, with peeling paint and a few broken windows. It didn't stand out in any way, except for the heavy silence that seemed to hang in the air around it. Vikram parked his bike and approached the entrance, his eyes scanning the area for anything unusual.

He found the name *Nina Kaul* on the list of residents and rang her buzzer. There was no answer. Frowning, Vikram tried again, pressing the button longer this time. Still nothing.

Not willing to give up, he knocked on the door of the ground-floor apartment adjacent to hers. After a moment, an older woman opened it, peering at him suspiciously through thick glasses.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice thin and wary.

"Sub-Inspector Vikram Mehra, police," Vikram replied, showing his badge. "I'm looking for Nina Kaul. Do you know if she's home?"

The old woman glanced at the name on the buzzer, then back at Vikram. "Haven't seen her today. But she's a quiet one. Keeps to herself, mostly. A bit nervous, if you ask me. Doesn't come out much."

Vikram nodded. "Has she mentioned feeling unsafe? Maybe someone following her?"

The woman's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, she did mention something a few days ago. Said there was a man hanging around outside at odd hours, but I didn't see anything. Poor girl's been jumpy ever since."

"Thank you, ma'am," Vikram said, already moving toward the stairs. He had a bad feeling about this.

---

At Nina's door, he knocked firmly, calling out her name. "Ms. Kaul? This is Sub-Inspector Vikram Mehra. Are you home? I'm here to help."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, just as Vikram was about to knock again, he heard something—a soft shuffle behind the door. Slowly, it creaked open, revealing a young woman standing there, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.

"You... you're from the police?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Yes," Vikram said gently. "I got a call this morning. Was it you?"

Nina's hands were shaking as she opened the door a little wider, glancing nervously down the hallway before pulling Vikram inside. She locked the door quickly behind him.

"I don't know who else to call," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think he's watching me."

"Who?" Vikram asked, his senses on high alert now. "Who's watching you?"

"I don't know," she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to ward off the chill that wasn't there. "I've seen him outside my window at night. And every time I leave the house, I feel like he's following me. Last night, I heard footsteps right outside my door. I don't know what he wants, but he's not going to stop."

Vikram's stomach churned. This wasn't just a routine case of someone imagining things. The fear in her eyes was too real. He pulled out his notepad, jotting down details as she spoke.

"We'll do everything we can to protect you, Nina," he assured her. "Do you have any idea who this person might be? Anyone from your past who could be stalking you?"

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No... I don't know. I've been careful. I moved here to get away from... things."

Just then, Vikram's phone rang in his pocket, startling both of them. He glanced at the screen—it was an unknown number. His pulse quickened as he answered.

"Hello?"

"I warned you to stay away." The voice on the other end was deep, cold, and unmistakably male.

Vikram's grip tightened on the phone. "Who is this?"

"You know who I am," the voice replied. "And you know what I want. She belongs to me."

Before Vikram could respond, the line went dead.

For a moment, Vikram stood frozen, staring at his phone. His heart raced as he processed the words. This wasn't just some random stalker. This was personal. The man knew about Nina, knew she had called for help—and now he knew Vikram was involved.

Nina's face had gone pale. "Who was that?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Vikram slipped his phone back into his pocket, his expression hardening. "We need to move quickly. He's not going to stop until we stop him first."

Vikram felt the air around him grow thick after the ominous call ended. The man's voice echoed in his ears—*"She belongs to me."* It wasn't just a threat; it was a claim, a twisted sense of ownership. Every instinct Vikram had told him that Nina was in immediate danger, and whoever this man was, he was watching.

Nina stood in the corner of her small apartment, her eyes wide with fear. The dim light from the single window cast long shadows on the pale walls. Vikram noticed the way her hands trembled as she nervously twisted the edge of her sweater, a silent indication that her terror wasn't new. She had been living in this fear for some time.

Vikram's mind raced as he quickly assessed the situation. The stalker knew Nina's every move, and now he knew Vikram was involved. This wasn't just about solving a case—it was about protecting her from a predator who clearly wasn't afraid to escalate.

"Nina," Vikram said gently, breaking the heavy silence. "We need to talk. I need you to tell me everything, from the beginning. Don't leave anything out, no matter how small it seems. Your life could depend on it."

She nodded, her lips pressed tightly together as if she were holding back a flood of emotions. She sat down on the worn-out sofa, pulling her knees to her chest. Vikram sat across from her, his notebook ready, though he knew that most of what she said would be more important for context than documentation.

"It started a few months ago," Nina began, her voice barely above a whisper. "At first, I thought it was nothing—just someone watching me from a distance. I'd see him outside my building at night, always in the shadows. I couldn't make out his face, but I could feel his eyes on me."

Vikram leaned forward, listening intently. "And you didn't recognize him? Not even from a distance?"

She shook her head. "No. He always stayed far enough away that I couldn't see his face clearly. But it didn't stop there." Her voice cracked slightly, and she took a deep breath, as if steeling herself to continue. "Then the phone calls started."

Vikram's eyes narrowed. "How often?"

"At first, it was once a week. Just heavy breathing on the other end. I thought maybe it was a prank. But then... then he started talking. Saying things." She shuddered, her arms wrapping tighter around herself. "He said I couldn't run from him. That no matter where I went, he'd find me. And that no one could keep me from him."

Vikram felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just a stalker—this was an obsessive, dangerous man who believed he had a right to her. "And you never reported it before now?"

Nina shook her head, guilt flashing across her face. "I thought it would stop. I thought if I ignored him, he'd give up. I didn't want to make a fuss over nothing. But then he started showing up closer. Right outside my door, at night. I could hear him... breathing, just standing there."

Vikram's jaw tightened. "That's when you filed the report."

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "But the police didn't find anything. I felt like they didn't believe me. They said it was probably just someone passing by. But I know it was him. I feel him watching me, even now."

Vikram's heart sank. He could see why she hadn't been taken seriously before. Without hard evidence, it was easy to dismiss her fears as paranoia. But now, with that phone call, there was no doubt in his mind—this man was a real threat.

"Listen to me, Nina," Vikram said firmly, making sure she understood the gravity of the situation. "You're not imagining this. I believe you, and I'm going to help you. But I need you to stay calm and trust me. We're going to catch this guy, but we need to be smart about it. Okay?"

She nodded, wiping away the tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks. "Okay," she whispered. "But what do we do now? He knows you're here."

Vikram glanced around the room, his mind already formulating a plan. "First, we need to make sure you're safe. Do you have somewhere else you can go? A friend or a family member's house, somewhere he wouldn't expect you to be?"

Nina hesitated. "I have a cousin, but... I don't want to put her in danger."

"Your safety is the priority," Vikram insisted. "If he doesn't know where you are, that gives us time to track him down. We can't stay here, not now that he knows you're not alone."

Nina nodded slowly, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I'll call my cousin. She lives in another part of the city. He wouldn't know about her."

"Good," Vikram said. "We'll get you there, and I'll have officers posted nearby for protection. You won't be alone. In the meantime, I'll be working to track down this man. We're not going to let him hurt you."

Nina's eyes softened with relief, though the fear still lingered. "Thank you," she whispered. "I just... I didn't know who else to turn to."

"You did the right thing by calling," Vikram reassured her. "Now, I need to ask—are there any places you've been recently where you felt watched? Maybe someone following you? Think back over the past few weeks."

Nina thought for a moment, her brow furrowed. "There was one time, about a week ago. I was at the grocery store, just picking up a few things. I remember feeling like someone was watching me, but when I turned around, no one was there. I brushed it off, but now..."

Vikram made a note. "Was it the same store you usually go to?"

"Yes, it's the one near my building," she replied. "I go there every week. It's routine."

He nodded, filing the information away. If the stalker had been tracking her movements, he'd likely follow predictable patterns. The grocery store might be a key point to watch.

"Okay. I'll have someone check the CCTV footage from that store. If he's been following you, he might have been caught on camera."

Nina's eyes widened slightly. "You think that will help?"

"It's a start," Vikram said. "We'll cross-reference it with other locations you've been. Stalkers like him tend to leave breadcrumbs, even if they don't realize it."

As they spoke, Vikram's phone buzzed again. His heart skipped a beat, but when he glanced at the screen, it was a message from the station—a location ping from the second call he had received. His trace had led to an area on the outskirts of the city. A construction site, to be exact.

His mind raced. The man was toying with them, but Vikram knew this was his chance to turn the tables. The construction site could either be a dead end or the key to catching this stalker.

"Nina," Vikram said, his voice firm with determination, "I need to step out for a while, but I'm leaving two officers at your door until we can move you to your cousin's place. Stay inside, lock all the doors, and don't answer the phone unless it's from me or someone from the station. We're going to stop him."

Her lips quivered slightly, but she nodded. "I trust you," she whispered.

Vikram gave her a reassuring nod before heading toward the door. He knew time was running out, and whoever this man was, he wasn't going to give up easily. But Vikram had made a promise—to protect Nina and bring this monster down.

As he walked out of the building, his heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from resolve. This wasn't just his first case anymore. It was personal. And Vikram Mehra wasn't going to let this man get away with terrorizing an innocent woman.

His mind focused, Vikram pulled out his phone and dialed the station. "Murthy, it's Mehra. I've got a lead on the stalker—construction site on the outskirts. I need backup, now."

Murthy's voice crackled over the line, surprised but ready. "Got it, fresh blood. We'll meet you there. Don't do anything reckless."

"Not reckless," Vikram said, his voice hard as steel. "Just determined."

And with that, he gunned the engine of his bike and sped off toward the construction site, his eyes sharp and his instincts ready. This was no longer just about proving himself. It was about justice.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Vikram's bike roared down the uneven road toward the outskirts of the city. The location ping from the second call had led him to an abandoned construction site—one that had been shut down due to some legal dispute a few months ago. Now, it was nothing more than a labyrinth of half-built structures, concrete skeletons looming in the fading light like forgotten ghosts.

Vikram slowed down as he approached the site, his sharp eyes scanning the area. The place was eerily quiet, and even the wind seemed to have stopped, leaving a heavy, oppressive stillness in the air. He parked his bike at the entrance, pulling off his helmet and taking a deep breath. The tension in his chest hadn't eased since he had left Nina's apartment, and now, standing at the threshold of what could be a dangerous confrontation, he felt his senses heighten even further.

His phone buzzed in his pocket—it was Murthy. Vikram quickly answered.

"Mehra, we're en route," Murthy's voice came through, slightly distorted by the wind on his end. "Ten minutes out. Don't go in without backup. Got it?"

Vikram glanced toward the looming structures ahead. "Got it," he lied. He couldn't wait ten minutes. The stalker knew he was involved now, and every second wasted could be a missed opportunity. If he was here, Vikram needed to find him—fast.

Pocketing his phone, Vikram adjusted his jacket, making sure his service weapon was within easy reach. He'd been in plenty of high-tension situations during his training, but this felt different. This wasn't a simulation, and there were no instructors waiting to tell him what to do next. This was real. And somewhere out there, in the shadows of those unfinished buildings, was a man who had terrorized Nina—and who wouldn't hesitate to do worse.

He moved quietly into the site, his footsteps deliberate but soft against the gravel. The half-built structures rose around him like a maze, the metal beams and concrete walls casting long, sinister shadows in the fading light. His eyes darted around, his senses sharp, looking for any sign of movement. Every creak of metal, every distant echo, sent his heart racing.

As he made his way deeper into the site, Vikram spotted something—a faint glint of light reflecting off a window in one of the unfinished towers. It was brief, but it was enough to catch his attention. Someone was up there.

Without hesitating, Vikram started toward the building, keeping low and moving as quietly as possible. He could feel the weight of his gun at his side, a comforting presence, but he hoped he wouldn't have to use it. His mind raced with possibilities. Was the man up there watching him now? Waiting for him?

When he reached the base of the building, he stopped, pressing his back against the cold concrete wall. He listened. The wind picked up slightly, rustling through the open steel frames above. For a moment, there was nothing else—just silence. But then, faintly, he heard it—a footstep, deliberate but soft, like someone trying to stay hidden.

Vikram's pulse quickened. He was here. The stalker was here.