CHAPTER 33
VISHNU
I stand in our living room, watching the last of Dad’s VIP guests trickle out, their compliments about tonight’s dinner still echoing in my ears. Simran, Devika, and Meher really outdid themselves tonight—their joint effort in the kitchen was nothing short of amazing. Every dish they prepared spoke of their skill and teamwork. Throughout dinner, I couldn’t help but notice their seamless coordination, the way they moved around each other and helped serve the guests, their faces lit with genuine warmth and friendship. For the first time in weeks, I saw Simran truly at ease—her laughter genuine and carefree, her shoulders lighter. It’s a sight I want to preserve forever.
As Kailash uncle prepares to take leave from Dad, I see Ayaan quietly stepping aside, his phone pressed to his ear. The light-hearted mood shatters the moment I catch Ayaan’s expression after he hangs up the phone. His usually relaxed features are taut with concern as he approaches me.
“We need to talk,” he says under his breath, his eyes darting to ensure no one’s within earshot.
I nod, following him as we slip into a quiet corner, out of sight. I can see Dad deeply engrossed in his conversation with Kailash uncle. Once we’re alone, Ayaan wastes no time and gets straight to the point.
“My team’s been looking into the joker mask you sent me,” he begins, his tone serious. “While we didn’t find any direct criminal ties, something else came up on our radar.” He pauses, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders. “There was an incident nearly ten months ago at a mental hospital in New York—Riverside Haven Mental Health Care Center.
I lean in closer, hanging onto every word as he continues.
“One of the patients wore that same scary Joker mask and terrorised a few other patients late at night. One of them got so spooked that he went into shock and died on the spot of cardiac arrest. At first, it was hard to find anything concrete, but this incident gained media attention because of the circumstances of the death. Otherwise, it would’ve been buried like most minor cases in mental health care facilities.”
My throat feels dry. “Do we have a name? The person who wore the Joker mask?”
“Jack Thompson.”
The name hits me like a physical blow. My muscles tense instantly, and a shiver runs through me. I see Ayaan notice my reaction.
“Yeah, you know him?” he asks.
I exhale sharply, my mind connecting the dots. “He’s the same man whose car was identified as the one stalking Simran.”
Ayaan’s brow furrows. “Interesting. He’s a drug addict. His mental health deteriorated from excessive substance abuse, which is why he was there for treatment. But there’s more—”
“He’s dead,” I interrupt, looking into his eyes. “Jack Thompson has been dead for over seven months. He died in a car accident.”
Ayaan’s eyes widen. “You knew that?”
“Yeah,” I explain quickly. “When we traced the car details back to him, the investigation hit a dead end because of his death. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”
Ayaan rubs his chin thoughtfully. “If he’s dead, then someone else must have had access to his car and the Joker mask, and was using them to stalk Simran. But whoever it is, they’re clearly linked to Jack somehow. The hospital might be our only lead.”
I nod, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, though some gaps still remain. “I need a full list of patients from that hospital. Not just the current ones, but also anyone who left or was discharged over the past year.”
“That’s a solid lead,” Ayaan agrees. “I’ll have my team pull the records and cross-reference for any suspicious connections. If there’s a thread to tug, we’ll find it.”
“Thanks,” I say sincerely, my tone full of gratitude.
Before either of us can say anything more, I spot Simran and Meher walking towards us. Their faces are bright with happiness, blissfully unaware of the dark undercurrent of our conversation. Ayaan and I exchange a quick glance, silently agreeing to keep this from them—for now.
“Are you two done with your secret meeting?” Simran asks playfully, though I catch a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
I force a smile, hating that I have to keep her in the dark.
“Just some boring business talk,” I say, watching as Ayaan mirrors my casual demeanour.
“Yeah, and we’re done,” Ayaan replies smoothly.
Simran gives me a questioning look, but I give her my best reassuring smile. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Hmm,” she hums, clearly not convinced, but she lets it go.
“Come on, Ayaan,” Meher says, tugging at his arm. “Paapa’s waiting.”
Ayaan nods and turns back to me. “I’ll update you as soon as I have something.”
“Good,” I reply.
Meher and Ayaan leave with Kailash uncle, and as I watch them go, my mind shifts back to the case. Jack Thompson. The hospital. The Joker mask. It’s all connected somehow, and I’m going to find out how. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re getting closer to something dangerous. The connection to the mental hospital, Jack Thompson’s death, the mask—the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall into place, but I can’t wait until I uncover the entire picture of who is troubling Simran and for what.