Raging Heartlands: An unputdownable crime thriller with a killer twist (Heartlands Thriller 1) by Neelabh Pratap Singh

Author:Neelabh Pratap Singh [Singh, Neelabh Pratap]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-02T23:00:00+00:00

17

DIYA

Diya followed Dev out of Meera’s house. “Dev, wait. Listen to me.” She clutched his elbow and turned him around. “Torture,” she said, whetting her tone. “How dare you call it a torture?”

“It was a torture for the grieving family,” Dev said, voice vibrating with anger. “You were insinuating a widow that her dead husband was a thief.”

Diya snorted. “I was just doing an enquiry. It’s your job to ask questions, Dev. You aren’t thinking about the money angle at all. The question dredges up dirt, but it will help Meera finding her husband’s murderer.”

“Maybe they don’t need your help,” Dev snapped.

Diya fell silent. Dev’s words threaded straight through her heart. “But they do need your help. They need justice. Bhola needs justice.”

Dev turned and slotted the key into his bike. “Maybe they don’t want justice, either.”

Disgust crunched into her chest. “How could you say this, Dev? You are a cop.”

Dev left the key in the lockset and faced Diya. “You see that house?” He pointed at a house which was a little less than hundred meters ahead. “That’s where I live. These are my people. I know them inside out.” He stared hard at her for a few beats. “Maybe deep down Meera wants the culprit to be punished, but right now she’s only thinking about the future, her kids’ future. Justice is the least of her concern.”

Emotion knotted inside Diya’s throat. She groped for the words inside her but found nothing.

“We have several political parties and chief ministers coming to power in our state in the past,” Dev said, his tone calm and steady now, the intensity draining out of his features. “Many of them had been self-proclaimed messiahs of the Dalits.” He tutted. “Everyone got the votes from the Dalits in the name of backward caste upliftment, brought several schemes for us, but even after all these years, this is where we stand.” He looked around the ghetto, placing his hands on his hips. “All we’ve got from everyone is hollow promises. The truth is no one cares about us. We’re one big family and we have to watch each other’s backs.”

Pity tumbled into Diya’s heart, closely followed by guilt. “I…I just wanted to find the culprit. That’s it.” And save my father. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

Dev dropped his hands to his sides, his shoulders sagging. “That we will. We will find Bhola’s killer.”

A little involuntary smile tweaked the edges of her lips.

“Now let’s go,” he said.

Dev took the same route to go back to the police station. When they reached the roundabout, the familiar sweet shop caught her eyes again. She slowed down near the shop. Dev might have caught her slowing down in his rear-view mirror. He stopped and looked back.

Diya stopped at the shop. Snatches of memory from the past feathered into her mind. Everything looked familiar. Sweets inside glass shelves at the counter with houseflies swarming over it. A big iron cauldron placed outside on a brick stove, the pot-bellied halwai deep frying samosas.

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