23. Animesh’s past
The interrogation room was cold, dimly lit, and silent—except for the slow, echoing tick of the wall clock.
Animesh Basu sat handcuffed at the steel table, unmoved by the camera blinking in the corner, recording every twitch of his eyes.
Behind the one-way glass, Inspector Ratan watched silently, arms folded across his chest.
Across from Animesh, the Masked Detective sat, her voice calm but unreadable.
"You used to teach history," she began softly. "Tell me… how did your daughter die? Or was it murder?"
Animesh stared ahead for a long moment.
"I don't know who killed her," he said, voice hollow. "They said it was suicide. But I never believed that."
"You believe she was murdered?"
"I believe they took her from me. And when I tried to find the truth, they gave me a different kind of answer."
The Detective leaned forward. "Who's 'they'?"
Animesh looked down at his cuffed hands. "Let me start from the beginning. Then I'll tell you."
The Detective nodded.
---
"It was years ago," he began. "Back when I was someone else. Someone... better."
"I was a kind man. I helped the poor. I loved teaching history. My students meant everything to me."
He smiled faintly, as though reliving a memory already slipping away.
"I met my wife at a book club. She loved Rabindranath Tagore. We married, started a quiet life. Then… our daughter, Ishita, was born. She was our light."
His voice cracked slightly. "We were happy. Until that day."
His fists clenched tightly.
"I got a call from Shikshaniketan Coaching Centre—a place I helped fund. They found a girl's body in a nearby apartment. Her face... slashed. Her hand… cut off. No ID. They suspected suicide."
He swallowed hard.
"I rushed there, praying it wasn't her. But when I saw the bracelet on her wrist… I knew."
"They closed the case without answers. Suicide, they said. No investigation."
"When my wife heard it, something inside her broke. She became like stone. She wouldn't speak, wouldn't move. Just sat in silence… until she died six months later."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
"After that, I received a message," Animesh continued. "From a place calling itself The Garden of the Black Moon Rose. It said: Come join us. If you want to see normal again… just say yes."
"I was broken. Desperate. I said yes."
"They gave me this."
He tilted his neck, revealing the tattoo.
A black rose, thorns twisted around it, and a crescent moon blooming from its center like a crown.
Ratan's voice came through the intercom: "We've seen that symbol before. That's their mark."
The Detective's voice sharpened. "Now tell me, how did you know about Sanchayita?"
Animesh looked at her—his eyes finally showing emotion. Regret.
"I saw you enter my house," she said. "You looked at a photograph of Ishita. Later, Ratan showed me a file of a girl reported missing 20 months ago—Sanchayita Pandit. She and Ishita looked nearly identical."
She stood up. "That night, someone stole your family album."
"It was me."
Ratan stiffened behind the glass.
"The next day," the Detective continued, "I met your wife. Something about her didn't sit right. I asked questions. She said something odd—she didn't know who Sanchayita Pandit was. But she looked terrified when I said the name."
Animesh's voice was barely a whisper. "She knew?"
The Detective nodded. "She gave me a clue—without even realizing it. So I dug deeper. Found Ishita's death certificate. Met the doctor. Learned the date."
She stepped closer to the table.
"Sanchayita disappeared after Ishita died. So you must've found her—because of the resemblance. You kidnapped her. You brainwashed her. You made her believe she was your daughter."
"Am I right, Mr. Animesh Basu?" Her voice rang like a bell in the silence.
Animesh's head lowered.
"Yes," he whispered.
The Detective turned, mask unreadable again. She left the room. Ratan joined her in the corridor.
He glanced at her.
"I have a question. Why did you become a detective?" he asked. "At this age? You're just… my friend's daughter."
She didn't answer.
"Later," she said simply.
---
The Next Morning
The news was brief. Stark.
Animesh Basu found dead in his cell. Poison.
"He killed himself," Ratan muttered.
The Detective stared at the body.
"No," she said. "He was silenced. Because he got caught."
"You mean... the organization?"
She nodded. "The Garden of the Black Moon Rose. Somehow, they got in. Or…"
She looked around, dark suspicion in her eyes.
"Someone on your team is working for them."
---
Evening
Ratan's phone buzzed.
The voice on the other end was tight. "You're right. One of my men—Shyam—ran. Disappeared without a trace. Rookie. Quiet. But sharp. Too sharp."
"He's one of them," the Detective said.
She hung up.
Changed into fresh clothes.
And went to bed.
But sleep wouldn't come.
Because the storm had only begun.
---
To Be Continued…