Second Lives (14 page)

‘The key is Rachel,’ I said firmly. ‘She found out something about Anna’s killer which spooked him so much that he not only took her life but those of three others too. Remember that the case had gone cold. It was off the radar of the press. Therefore, the heat on the police was off as well.

‘The killer breathes easy, thinking he’s got away with the crime. Suddenly, he gets cornered and starts to kill more people to protect himself. Except that the new murders bring the limelight back on Anna Grishin. I’m sure D’Mello is very pleased with this fresh chance to crack the case.’

Sara said, ‘And let’s not forget Sasha, whose death is an even older and colder case. If it was indeed the same man, then he’s not just worried about being caught for killing Anna. His past crimes, which he had thought were safely buried, are now back to haunt him too.’

I wondered again if there were others like Anna and Sasha.

Omar asked, ‘So why are we still alive?’

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘The man is obviously intelligent, resourceful and very determined. Qualities that most psychopaths possess. He definitely knows about us but for some reason, has decided that we don’t need to die. Yet.’

‘The question that continues to baffle me is why would Rachel, of all people, be on the trail of such a man? What would’ve drawn her to the case?’

I was silent for a moment. Then I said softly, ‘Isn’t it obvious by now? Because she
knew
him.’

36

Omar

When we didn’t find Roy in his tent, no one was unduly perturbed. We assumed he had gone for a walk in the forest or an early morning dip in the freezing river, for he liked to do crazy things like that. In a stark departure from the brilliant weather we had been having since the start of the trip, the sky was dark and cloudy. Our guide told us that rain was on the way.

One hour went by and then two—we began to get worried. I set out downstream along the bank of the river to look for Roy. He couldn’t have gone upstream because the beach tapered off in that direction, culminating in a stretch of rocks impossible to navigate on foot. The others, except Rachel who couldn’t move around on her injured ankle, fanned out on the adjoining hillside, shouting his name.

We searched until noon but there was no sign of him. I realised something was seriously wrong.

Then the storm arrived. We sat huddled together as the rain lashed furiously outside. The wind howled ominously, warning that the Gods were angry. I was sure our tents would be blown away at any time but the little canvas structures held firm.

The rain eased as suddenly as it had descended. A light drizzle continued and the sky remained overcast. We pulled up the hoods of our waterproof jackets and held a council-of-war on the slushy mire of our campsite, shivering in the chill. The wind had abated but there was no escaping its cold, clammy embrace.

Roy clearly hadn’t abandoned us wilfully since all his belongings were in his tent, placed as they were the previous night. We ran through all the possibilities. Could a wild animal have killed him in his tent and then dragged him away to some remote lair? We had been told that there were leopards and black bears in the surrounding jungles but it was very unlikely that one of them would have ventured into our camp, for they were inherently scared of humans. Besides, there were no signs of disturbance inside the tent or any marks on the ground outside. Nor had any of us heard anything.

Neel suggested that Roy might have woken up in the middle of the night and ventured out in the dark. Still intoxicated, he might have accidentally or deliberately gone into the river and then drowned in the turbulent waters. All of us were horrorstruck at this hypothesis. It seemed inconceivable that someone of Roy’s immense physical vitality could have met with such an end.

Our guide, being one of those highly superstitious hill folk, was convinced that Roy had been taken by evil spirits, of which there were many in the surrounding mountains, he said. It was a simple explanation but obviously not one our rational minds were prepared to accept. However, it did seem like he had vanished into thin air. I had been sharing Roy’s tent and I am a light sleeper. I wondered how he could have unzipped first his sleeping bag and then the tent-flap, squirmed his large frame around in the tiny space and finally crawled out on the crunchy gravel without disturbing me at all.

Sara remained firmly of the opinion that Roy had gone for an early-morning walk and was either lost or incapacitated in some way, waiting for help. We all wanted to believe that, of course. Our guide had managed to assemble a number of people from nearby villages to form a bigger search party, and we went looking for Roy again.

We were soon soaked to the skin and covered with mud but we plodded on, trying to cover maximum ground in a grid pattern. The villagers were incredibly helpful and not one of them left until we collectively decided to call off the search at sunset. There was no sign of Roy. We were tired and miserable but there was no point in staying on at camp any longer. Packing up quickly, we drove straight to the district police headquarters and filed a missing person report.

The first angle the police explored was whether one of us had murdered Roy, a theory we hadn’t considered at all. It sounded ludicrous but the police seemed to think it quite feasible. I had the privilege of being the prime suspect since I had shared his tent. We were detained and interrogated for two awful days before they were satisfied that we were innocent. Roy was declared missing and presumed dead in an accident.

In the meantime, the news had reached school, sending everyone into a tizzy. Two teachers and the bursar were sent to find out what had really happened and also to bring us back. Their presence and intervention certainly helped us to get out of the police’s clutches. There was hell to pay for later but we were at least free to go.

Roy’s body was never found and it was almost certain that he had drowned in the river. Neel had been right. It hadn’t been wild animals or ghosts or bandits who had taken Roy away from us, just our own foolish act which turned out to have disastrous consequences. Of all the ill-effects of alcohol, I had never thought it could be responsible for taking someone’s life in this bizarre manner.

Our group was never the same again. There was no doubt that the five of us were responsible for Roy’s death, even if indirectly. Twelve years have gone by, and not a day has passed when I haven’t been wracked by guilt.

37

Sara

I decided to go for a run on the beach that evening.

For me, it’s not a fitness routine but more of a hobby because I truly enjoy it. I don’t jog, I run. The feeling of the air rushing past my body, pressing my clothes against my skin and blowing my hair back, is exhilarating. It doesn’t matter whether it’s hot or cold or wet. All I need is an open space, a park or field, beach or promenade. I can’t run on asphalt.

The strip of white sand in front of my villa stretches for a reasonable distance, meeting the sea in a gentle arc. It’s not rocky and not crowded, for there are no hotels nearby. I generally made it a point to run daily whenever I’m in Goa but this was my first time on this trip.
I couldn’t really blame myself for that.

I prefer running barefoot, something I discovered when I had forgotten to pack my sports shoes on a trip to London a few years ago. On an impulse, I went to Hyde Park in a tracksuit and high heels, took off the shoes and started to run! It was amazing to feel the cool grass beneath my feet. I found that I was naturally landing on the ball of my foot rather than the heel, which seemed to give me an extra spring in each stride.

As a matter of fact, there’s a strong school of thought which says that running without shoes is better for the health of one’s feet. The human foot has plenty of inbuilt shock absorbers. Its muscles are well-adapted to minimise the impact of landing and turn that energy into forward motion more efficiently. Research has shown that running with shoes increases the chances of chronic injuries of the lower leg.

Of course, I would never dream of running barefoot on a beach in Goa! Even the cleanest of them is covered with all sorts of litter and flotsam. It would be very easy to slash my foot on a broken beer bottle or impale it on a rusted nail.

The sun was setting when I started my run. I completed a length of the beach and savoured the feeling of my heart beating rapidly, sending the adrenaline rushing around inside me. After a brief pause to get my breath back, I turned around and began to run again.

The beach had been practically deserted but I now noticed two men standing directly in my path, not far from the villa.

I couldn’t make out their features in the gathering twilight but they were of medium build, dressed identically in dark vests, knee-length shorts and sandals.
Something about their body language told me they were trouble.
I veered off my straight course to give them a wide berth but they moved quickly to block my way. There was no option for me but to stop a few feet in front of them.

I wasn’t afraid because I can usually take care of myself in these situations. Aggression often takes such men by surprise and scares them away. I challenged the duo in a loud voice. ‘What do you want? Get out of my way!’

Neither of them answered, or moved.

I mentally cursed my choice of outfit. I was wearing nothing but a sports bra and lycra tights, which wouldn’t have been out of place in any modern gym. Under the circumstances though, I wished I had dressed differently.

The two men stepped forward in unison. One of them took out a small knife which gleamed dully in the fading light, and I realised that the situation was fast turning ugly. I looked around to see if there was anyone I could shout to for help. As if on cue, the man with the knife lunged forward and caught me by the wrist. He hissed, ‘Don’t try to make a sound, or I’ll kill you.’

I tried to free my hand but his thick fingers were like a vice.
For the first time, I felt a wave of panic.
The man had sounded very sure of himself. They were obviously not some roadside Romeos out to harass a lone woman but seasoned predators who had carefully selected, stalked, and attacked their target.

I knew I had to somehow get away quickly. I moved towards the man who held me and he loosened his grip in surprise, as I had expected. I tried to knee him in the balls but missed. With my free hand, I swung a punch at his face and my fist crashed into his nose with a satisfying crunch! One of the few good things Jai had done for me was to make me go through a year of self-defence classes. That training was coming in handy now.

The man howled in pain but he was tough. He struck me expertly in the solar plexus and kicked out at my knees. I felt my legs buckle. The other man had moved in behind me and he grasped me under my right shoulder, covering my mouth with his left hand. His partner lifted my legs and they began to carry me away. I didn’t know if they had a car waiting nearby or whether they were taking me to some hidden spot around the beach itself.

I tried to struggle but it was no use. They had me completely immobilised.
I was more frightened than I’d ever been in my life.
Then I managed to get my teeth on the fleshy palm over my mouth, and bit down hard. I tasted blood. There was a loud yell from the man and he moved his hand away. I began screaming for all I was worth.

‘Sara!’ It was Neel! His gruff voice had never sounded sweeter. I turned my head and saw him running across the sand towards me. The men saw him too and stopped but they didn’t let me go.

As Neel approached, I shouted, ‘Watch out, they’re armed!’ I don’t think he heard me because he hurled himself at the man with the knife, which went flying out of his hand. Both fell in a tangle on the ground. Neel stunned the man with a punch to the head and pulled himself up. Then he began to kick him in a blind rage. I heard a couple of ribs crack audibly. The man covered his head with his hands and curled himself instinctively into a ball but Neel continued to lash out at him with both his feet.

In the meantime, the other man had dropped me and rushed forward. He grabbed Neel around the waist and pulled him away from his partner, who was lying motionless like a crumpled doll. Neel turned himself around but the man didn’t let go and for a second, the two of them were locked in a tight hug. It would have been comical under other circumstances.

Neel’s arms were loose by his sides and for a moment, he stood still. Then he threw his head back and butted the man full in the face! It was a terrible blow. The frontal bone in the human forehead is thick and very hard, and behind it was all the momentum produced by the muscles of Neel’s powerful shoulders and neck. The man was unconscious even before he hit the ground, his face a bloody, battered mass. Neel kicked him hard a couple of times before I could drag him away. He was in some kind of murderous fury.
I knew he had a violent temper but I had never seen him like this.

The whole thing had lasted only a few seconds.

I clung to Neel. He was shaking with anger and a vein throbbed on the side of his head. A dark bruise had started to form across his temple. I said, ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here.’

We held on to each other and half ran, half stumbled back to the villa. I prepared an ice-pack and applied it to Neel’s forehead. He noticed the blood on my hand and blanched. ‘You’re cut, Sara. Let’s look at that first.’ I managed a weak grin and said, ‘That’s not my blood, it’s that man’s.’

I went to wash up and change. The creepy feeling of the hands of the two men on me refused to go away. I threw the clothes I had been wearing into the waste bin and stood under a cold shower for ten minutes. My stomach still felt weak and my hands were shaking. It had been a near escape!
If Neel hadn’t turned up when he did, I don’t know what would have happened.
I shuddered at the thought.

When I came out, Neel had calmed down. He said, ‘Sara, I’m going back to check on those guys. We must hand them over to the police. And I think they need to go to a hospital.’ Before I could stop him, he had walked out.