Chapter 5: The Pig Farm and the Clock

Rajesh Singh glanced at the clock and taunted, “Officer Sharma, your twelve hours are up. You should let me go.”

The words stung. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to strike him again.

I ignored him and had Amit gather the team to head straight for the city’s only pig farm.

We raced through the streets, siren blaring, the dust swirling behind our jeep. Every bump in the road made my heart skip a beat.

The farm was huge. We called the local police for backup and began a thorough search.

The stink of pigs and rotting leftovers hit us as we entered, flies swirling in thick clouds. My shoes squelched in the mud. We split up, combing every shed, every sty, every pile of muck.

In the most remote pigsty, we found Kabir’s watch, what looked like his faeces, and a patch of dark red blood.

I fell to my knees, clutching the watch to my chest. The blood was still wet, glistening in the sunlight.

I told the forensic team to collect samples immediately.

They worked quickly, carefully bagging every scrap of evidence. My head spun with fear and hope.

From the scene, it was clear Kabir had been held here for some time.

The signs were unmistakable—scuffed footprints, torn fabric, the faint outline of a shoe in the mud.

But where was he now?

My mind screamed with possibilities. Was he alive? Was he suffering? Would I ever see him again?

What exactly had happened here?

Every possibility was worse than the last. The fear was suffocating.

We rushed back to the station. Rajesh Singh had already been released.

Amit met me at the door, his face pale. “Sir, he’s gone.”

I shouted, “Who let him go?”

My voice echoed down the corridor. Officers froze, eyes wide. The air was thick with tension.

Deputy Commissioner and Crime Branch Head Prakash replied expressionlessly, “I did. He’d been held for twelve hours. By law, we had to let him go.”

Prakash’s voice was cold, matter-of-fact. His eyes gave nothing away.

I was furious but couldn’t act rashly. “But Kabir wasn’t at the pig farm. He must have moved him.”

I slammed my fist on the table, pain jolting up my arm. My frustration threatened to boil over.

Prakash asked, “Do you have direct evidence that Rajesh Singh did it?”

He waited, arms folded. I knew what he meant.

“His fingerprint was on the steel pipe, wasn’t it?”

My voice was desperate, almost pleading.

“Was it only his fingerprint?”

Of course not.

Scaffolding pipes are used everywhere—covered in fingerprints.

Every construction worker in the city probably touched that pipe. The evidence was as good as useless.

I understood what Prakash meant. Forensically, a pipe with multiple fingerprints isn’t enough to prove Rajesh Singh’s guilt.

I slumped into a chair, head in my hands. The law was a maze, and I was lost in it.

I was so anxious I could barely stand still. “Rajesh Singh just told me Kabir was at the pig farm, and we found his watch there. That proves he knows where Kabir is. He’s highly suspicious. I suggest we apply to the prosecutor’s office for his arrest.”

My words tumbled out in a rush. I didn’t care how desperate I sounded.

Prakash remained unmoved. “Evidence? You turned off the surveillance. Will the prosecutor approve an arrest based only on your word? Rajesh Singh can deny ever giving you any information.”

He was right. Without evidence, we had nothing. My stomach twisted in knots.

I felt as if I’d plunged into an icy abyss.

For a moment, the world spun. I closed my eyes, fighting back the urge to scream.

So, all my emotions and actions were part of Rajesh Singh’s plan.

He had played me like a harmonium—every note, every pause, perfectly orchestrated. I was the fool who danced to his tune.

He pushed me to the brink, made me break protocol, and only after I turned off the surveillance did he reveal clues.

The irony was cruel. The very rules meant to protect us now stood in my way.

He was step by step luring me into breaking the law.

My badge felt heavy in my pocket. I wondered if I had lost more than just my son.

Prakash twisted the knife: “After leaving the interrogation room, Rajesh Singh immediately reported that you assaulted him and demanded a medical exam, threatening to complain to the higher authorities. I sent Ravi with him and called the hospital, telling them to be careful with the report. Sharma ji, you’re in big trouble this time.”

I stared at the floor, my mind blank. All around me, the world spun on, indifferent to my pain. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the sound of temple bells, a reminder that for some, life still went on as usual. But for me, everything had changed. I stared at those six numbers, praying for a miracle. Somewhere, my son was waiting. And the clock was ticking.