9-The First Step

The next day, Dara was at the car garage, standing beside a newly acquired car. His face bore a look of unwavering determination, his purpose clear. Without delay, he got behind the wheel and drove out of the city, as if pursuing a path only he understood.

It took Dara about an hour and a half to reach his late mother's hometown, a quiet village in Kandal Province, nestled northeast of the city.

He pulled his black car into a rural gas station, a modest spot where a café and a cluster of small stalls stood together, catering to travelers passing through.

Dara settled into a chair at the corner of the coffee shop, the hum of quiet conversation and the scent of fresh brew filling the air. With a steady hand, he pulled out his phone and dialed Visal's number.

"Hello, Visal! Yes, it's Dara— the one who contacted you yesterday about my mom's case," he said, his voice steady as he spoke into the phone.

Dara listened closely as Visal responded, his expression focused.

"Yes, I'm waiting for you at the shop right now. Do we meet at your station?"

After listening to Visal over the phone, Dara replied, his words measured. "Ok. See you in a moment. Thank you!"

Around 10 minutes later,...

Visal, dressed casually, pulled up on his black-and-white Honda PCX and parked in front of the coffee shop where Dara sat. As he stepped off the scooter, their eyes met, and they exchanged a brief greeting. 

Dara couldn't help but pause, momentarily stunned by his striking appearance—his freshly cut hair and the strong, confident presence of his body left an impression.

"Hi, I'm Visal, a police officer from Kandal II district!" he introduced with a confident smile.

"I'm Dara... um, the son of the late Saroath," Dara replied, his voice a little unsure.

"Glad to meet you," Visal said, extending his hand.

"Glad to see you!" Dara gestured toward the empty chair. "Have a seat."

Visal nodded, settling into the chair. 

"Would you like a drink?" Dara asked.

"Just coffee," Visal answered.

"Okay!" Dara motioned to the barista, then leaned in slightly, his tone shifting to something more serious.

The conversation turned quickly to the case. Visal spoke with quiet certainty. 

"I can't shake the feeling that this wasn't a suicide. It seems more like murder, and we're digging into something much darker than we realized."

"But my mom was seen at the scene. That means the case has been investigated, so why didn't I know anything?"

"Your mom family handled it with your father."

"Yes I heard my father too involved too!"

"So what did you know so far?"

"After the seventh-day ceremony, my uncle and grandparents told me the police would handle it and I should rest. No one suggested anything beyond the possibility of suicide."

Visal took a slow, steady breath before speaking. 

"I'm truly sorry for your loss. Your mother and my family were well acquainted, which is why my mom is also grieving. As for me, being a police officer, I was assigned to the case too. At first, everyone believed your mother took her own life, but I sensed something wasn't right. There were details that just didn't align with what we were being told."

Dara trembled, his voice breaking with grief. "So, why does it feel like you're all keeping something so secret?"

"I've already spoken to my superior, but he didn't seem to take me seriously. If we don't uncover solid evidence soon, they'll close the case."

"Why?" Dara whispered, his voice barely more than a tremor, the weight of the question heavy with pain.

Visal's voice was steady, though his words struck like a blow. "Mr. Vann, the chief of the police station, told me recently that the case will be closed after he met your father, Mr. Heng, if I'm not mistaken." 

Dara froze, shock spreading across his face as the weight of his words sank in.

"My father came here after the seventh-day ceremony too?" Dara asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Visal nodded, his eyes clouded with suspicion.

Dara stood frozen, confusion flooding his mind. Why had his father come? There was a sense of urgency in Visal's gaze, a silent weight that made the question linger in the air.

"Dara! Are you alright?" Visal's voice broke through his thoughts.

Still lost in his own mind, Dara barely registered the words.

"Hello?" Visal's voice sharpened.

Snapping back to reality, Dara blinked. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

Visal repeated, "Yes, we said your father came here."

"Yes, yes. But without evidence to back this up, does it even matter?"

Visal's expression shifted, a glint of something serious in his eyes. "I have solid evidence."

Dara's eyes widened in shock.

"I deeply regret that I couldn't do anything to preserve her body for an autopsy," Visal said, his voice heavy with guilt. "What if she didn't die by hanging? What if it was something else—some other way?" His words struck Dara like a sharp blow, shattering her heart into pieces.

Visal gazed at Dara's pained expression, and a wave of sympathy washed over him, amplifying his own heartache. He could see her suffering, a reflection of his own grief, and it deepened the weight of his regret.

Dara forced a composed expression, her voice trembling as she asked, "But now she's gone, and all we have are these photos. As a police officer, do you think they can bring justice for my mom?"

"These photos may not be enough to prove or identify the killer, but they're a lead. If you're willing to keep going, we'll uncover the truth, sooner or later."

"It's a must! I have to uncover the truth for my mother, no matter what it takes. I need your help, please."

Visal leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to process the urgency in Dara's words. He studied Dara's face, the begging looking sharp yet unwavering in its determination. The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken understanding.

Dara furrowed his brow, confusion creeping into his voice. 

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching Visal's face for any hint of what lay beneath the silence.

Visal's voice remained steady, but there was a hint of concern. "Consider the consequences that might follow... your father, or another relative…"

Dara shook his head, his expression hardening. "Whoever tries to interfere won't matter, Visal. I've placed my life on this. I don't care who it is! No one is powerful enough to stop me from seeking justice for my mother, no one!"

Visal nodded, his posture straightening with readiness. "Good! And you know Miss Nida, right?"

"Yes," Dara replied. 

"She was in charge of your mom's insurance procedure. I think she'd be really helpful." He paused, then added,

"Having someone willing to assist in a case like this is rare! And she's my lifesaver," Dara said softly. Though the words struck Visal, they carried more weight than expected.

"I heard she wanted to be a lawyer," Visal said.

"Oh! Someone who's interested in seeking the truth like her should be one," Dara replied.

Visal gave a warm smile, his expression thoughtful, before nodding in agreement. "Alright, Dara," he said, his tone softening. "We'll make it work."

***

"Write...Write a criminal complaint?" Nida asked, her voice laced with surprise as they sat together in the bustling city coffee shop.

"Yes! What, are you planning to be a lawyer or not, miss wanna be a lawyer?" Dara responded, her eyes serious.

Chanida paused, taken aback. "What? Why did you call me that?"

"Miss Chanida, please, help me write a criminal complaint for my mom's murder case," Dara pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

Chanida inhaled deeply. "So, you got some details from Visal, right?"

"Yes!"

"Good. But in order to file the complaint, we need more—facts, specifics."

"We have photos of my mom's injuries, her fingers, her feet..."

"Yes. But let's be honest here—have you given any thought to this case before we reached out to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you even find out about your mom's death?"

"Oh! I was at home in the city when I got a call from my uncle, late in the evening."

"When you learned she had taken her life, did you fully believe it, or did you have doubts?

"Almost completely. But it's beyond my comprehension. We had planned a trip together after she returned from our hometown, but... she did it before that."

Nida paused, trying to process. "So, you almost believed it, even with the promise to travel? What made you think that way?"

Dara hesitated, his voice heavy with regret. "Because... because of everything we've been through, the pressure... and because of me. I think she did it because of me. I was a terrible, terrible son."

Nida's heart ached with regret. "I understand how you feel," she said softly. "But I believe there's something you've overlooked. You must find a reason, a reasonable explanation that convinces you—truly convinces you—that she didn't take her own life. There's more to this, much more than you realize. You just haven't seen it yet."

Dara nodded slowly, understanding her words.

"I have to ask you this, so you're prepared," Nida said gently. 

Dara nodded, his voice trembling. "Yes, I've wondered too. My mom promised me a trip, but then she told me she had something to take care of in her hometown before we left, that she'd be back soon. She had plans, plans to take me abroad... She wanted a better life for us." Dara's words broke, and he couldn't hold back his tears.

Nida carelly listens and keeps silent. Dara continues

"She gave everything she had for the rest of her life," Dara said, his voice cracking. "She had a plan. She wouldn't just give up everything—and her life—halfway like that. It's… unthinkable. She's not the kind of person who gives up easily."

"Oh, I see. Did you ever find out who she reached out to about her plan to go abroad? It might help or hold some connection," she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I didn't have her phone... it's gone!" His words hung in the air, and they both froze, eyes widening as the realization hit them—her phone had vanished, and no one had said a word about it until now.