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Shadows in the Alley

Shadows in the Alley

The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the city into a maze of slick pavements and glowing reflections. Inspector Kavya Deshmukh hated nights like these. They brought trouble—murders hidden in shadows, screams swallowed by thunder.

At 2:13 a.m., her phone buzzed. “Another one,” the dispatcher said grimly. “Same pattern. Narrow Lane, behind the textile market.”

Kavya drove through the downpour, wipers working furiously. Her stomach tightened with dread. Three murders in two weeks, each victim strangled, each crime scene marked with a crimson playing card.

When she arrived, the alley was already cordoned off. Officers stood in soaked uniforms, their faces pale. Kavya ducked under the tape, rain plastering her hair to her forehead.

The victim lay sprawled in a puddle. Male, mid-thirties, eyes wide in terror. Around his neck—a thin cord still embedded in the skin. On his chest, pinned with a small knife, was the mark: the Queen of Hearts.

Kavya crouched, studying the card. The first victim had a King, the second a Jack. Now a Queen. The killer was working through a deck, one card at a time.

She turned to her junior, Officer Imran. “No witnesses?”

“None, ma’am. Market was closed. Cameras nearby were disabled.”

Kavya’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t random. Someone was sending a message.

By morning, she was back at headquarters, staring at the evidence board. Photos of the victims stared back, each with their card taped beside them. A pattern, she thought. Something personal.

Her phone rang again. Unknown number. She answered.

A distorted voice crackled through: “You’re late, Inspector. Three cards gone, forty-nine remain. Can you keep up?”

Kavya stiffened. “Who is this?”

“You’ll find me when you understand the game.”

The line went dead.

Her hands trembled slightly as she set the phone down. The killer wasn’t hiding—he was playing. And she was the opponent.

That evening, she reviewed CCTV from the textile market. Most cameras had indeed been tampered with, but one—half-obscured by rain—caught a fleeting shadow: a man in a hood, slipping into the alley minutes before the murder.

She enhanced the frame. Blurry, but something caught her eye—a gloved hand holding a small pack of cards.

The deck. His signature.

Two nights later, a patrol officer called her in panic. “Inspector! We’ve got a live one—he left a note!”

The scene was a half-lit café on River Road. On the counter, beside an abandoned cup of tea, lay another card: Ace of Spades. Scrawled on the back were words in red ink: Midnight. Old Clock Tower. Come alone.

Kavya’s pulse raced. A trap, no doubt. But also a chance.

At 11:57 p.m., she entered the crumbling tower, flashlight slicing through cobwebs and dust. Her service pistol was drawn, footsteps echoing on stone.

“Welcome, Inspector,” the voice echoed from the shadows.

She swung the beam upward. A figure stood on the staircase, hood drawn, gloved hands holding the rest of the deck.

“You enjoy the chase,” he said calmly. “Don’t pretend you don’t. You need me as much as I need you.”

Kavya steadied her pistol. “It ends tonight.”

The man flicked a card into the air. The Two of Diamonds fluttered down. “Shoot me, and the game dies. Catch me, and the game continues. Which would you rather?”

For a moment, the storm outside roared louder than her thoughts. She fired—shattering the card mid-air. The man bolted upward, vanishing into the tower’s darkness.

Kavya chased, but when she reached the roof, he was gone—swallowed by the rain, leaving only one card pinned to the railing.

The Joker.

Kavya stood in the storm, heart pounding. The killer was still out there, the game unfinished. And she knew one thing: this wasn’t just about murder. It was about obsession.

And now, she was part of the deck.

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