8:55 a.m. — Forensic Laboratory, Lahore
The laboratory lights were harsh and clinical, flattening color and emotion into sterile white.
Zarar stood behind the observation glass, hands clasped behind his back, watching the preparation table where two sealed evidence envelopes lay side by side.
One labeled:
Liberty Market — Male Victim — Wound Trace Recovery
The other:
Canal Road — Female Victim — Scalp / Freezer Debris
The senior forensic hair analyst adjusted the comparison microscope and slid the first sample under the lens.
On the large monitor mounted on the wall, a single strand appeared magnified hundreds of times.
Silver.
Not pale blonde. Not grey from aging.
True depigmented silver.
"Sample A," the analyst said, her voice steady. "Recovered near the Liberty Market victim. Not surface contamination"
Zarar's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Meaning it was placed deliberately?" he asked.
"Based on position and depth — yes. It did not fall there accidentally."
The second sample was positioned.
"Sample B. Collected from the shaved scalp region and freezer drainage fibers of the Canal Road victim."
The screen split.
Two strands aligned side by side.
Identical diameter.
Identical hollow medullary structure.
Identical cuticle scaling.
"Natural silver-blonde," she continued. "No artificial dye markers. The pigment absence pattern indicates a rare genetic variation."
Silence deepened in the room.
"We've completed mitochondrial DNA testing," she added. "Statistical certainty confirms both strands originated from the Canal victim."
Officer Tariq shifted in his seat. "So she was killed first."
The pathologist stepped forward with a file.
"Internal examination confirms Canal victim died approximately five days prior to discovery. Freezing began within one to two hours after death. Tissue crystallization patterns are consistent with early refrigeration."
"And Liberty victim?" Zarar asked.
"Less than twenty-four hours before his discovery. No evidence of freezing."
Zarar looked back at the monitor.
Hair removed from the girl.
Placed inside the man.
Not random.
Constructed.
The killer didn't just murder.
They arranged.
---
Flashback — Liberty Market, First Crime Scene
Zarar could still see it clearly.
The alley behind the busy commercial strip. Police tape fluttering against neon shop lights. Curious onlookers filming from a distance.
The male victim lay positioned unnaturally calm against the concrete wall.
Zarar had crouched beside the body then.
Examining the incision.
Clean.
Precise.
Almost surgical.
But there had been something else that night.
Something faint.
He had paused mid-breath.
Turned his head slightly.
There — beneath the metallic scent of blood and damp concrete.
A soft floral note.
Cherry blossom.
He had glanced toward nearby cosmetic shops. Dismissed it as environmental contamination.
Markets were saturated with fragrance.
He stood up and moved on.
Now the memory returned sharper.
Because when the freezer lid opened near Canal Road — when cold vapor spilled outward like fog — the same scent had surfaced.
Not similar.
Identical.
Not ambient.
Intentional.
---
11:10 a.m. — Forensic Briefing Room
The case board now displayed two photographs connected by a bold red line.
Underneath:
• Distinctive trait removed
• Surgical incision
• Sedative suspected
• Cherry blossom scent
Zarar stood at the front.
"The Canal victim died first," he stated clearly. "Her hair was removed and preserved."
He tapped the screen.
"The male victim was killed later. Her hair was inserted into his wound."
"Why?" one officer asked.
"To ensure linkage," Zarar replied.
"To make sure we connect the cases," Tariq said quietly.
"Yes."
He paced once before continuing.
"This is premeditated staging. The killer is constructing narrative continuity."
The forensic assistant raised her hand hesitantly.
"Sir… there's additional information regarding the scent analysis."
Zarar turned.
"Proceed."
"We performed chemical breakdown testing on the cherry blossom residue recovered from the Canal victim's clothing and freezer interior."
"And?" he asked.
"It's oil-based.It's not commercial perfume," the chemist added. "The oil contains plant-derived compounds — possibly concentrated floral extract.""
Murmurs spread across the room.
Oil-based perfume clings longer. Bonds with fabric. Does not evaporate quickly like alcohol-based sprays.
"That's not the unusual part," she added.
Zarar waited.
"Volatility testing indicates the scent was applied approximately eighteen to twenty-four hours before discovery."
The room went completely still.
"That's impossible," someone whispered. "The body was frozen for five days."
The pathologist nodded slowly. "Internal tissue crystallization confirms early freezing. We're confident about that."
"So clarify," Zarar said, voice controlled.
"The victim died five days ago," the assistant explained. "Freezing began shortly after death. But the perfume concentration levels on outer clothing layers are consistent with recent application — not five-day exposure."
"Meaning?" Tariq asked carefully.
"Meaning the body was stored frozen… then removed within the last 24 hours."
"And perfumed," another technician said.
"And perfumed."
The implications shifted the air in the room.
The killer had reopened storage.
Handled the body again.
Placed it near Canal Road deliberately.
Confident enough to return.
Zarar's gaze sharpened.
"Re-run freezing duration models," he ordered. "Confirm there was no secondary freeze-thaw cycle."
"We're already doing that," the pathologist said. "Preliminary readings show no thaw-refreeze damage patterns."
Which meant:
The Canal freezer likely wasn't the original storage site.
There was another location.
Somewhere controlled.
Somewhere hidden.
---
1:05 p.m. — Zarar's Office
The timeline was rewritten on his board:
Day -5: Canal victim killed. Frozen.
Day -1: Liberty victim killed.
Day 0: Liberty body discovered.
Day +? : Canal body relocated. Perfume applied ~24 hrs prior.
He stared at the pattern.
Hair planted to ensure connection.
Signature scent repeated.
Body moved days later.
This wasn't emotional rage.
It was systemized.
His phone vibrated.
Forensics again.
"Yes."
"Sir… we're still validating thermal modeling, but current findings confirm early freezing remains accurate."
"So storage location number one still unidentified," he murmured.
"Yes, sir."
He ended the call slowly.
Two crime scenes.
One constructed link.
A body stored for days.
And a killer confident enough to adjust evidence after headlines began.
The scent of cherry blossom lingered faintly in his memory again.
Not overwhelming.
Subtle.
Calculated.
He had dismissed it once.
He wouldn't dismiss it again.
4:05 p.m. — Sara's Apartment
The late afternoon sun stretched across the narrow street that separated Sara's apartment building from the row of houses facing the Canal.
Anaya stood at the entrance for a second longer than necessary before knocking.
Sara opened the door almost immediately.
"You actually came," she smiled. "Good. I was starting to think you'd disappear into exam-mode again."
Anaya forced a small smile and stepped inside.
Sara's apartment was neat, modern, almost minimalist. Soft grey walls. Warm lighting. Everything deliberate but not cold.
Anaya placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and glanced around casually — too casually.
Her eyes stopped.
Near the far wall, mounted on a narrow floating shelf, were two decorative glass spheres.
Clear.
Polished.
Resting on thin metal stands.
They were meant to resemble celestial globes — continents etched faintly across their surfaces — but from a distance, the internal reflections made them look eerily organic.
Like eyes.
Watching.
Anaya's breath slowed.
The curved glass distorted light in a way that created depth — as if something floated inside them.
She stepped closer before she could stop herself.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Sara's voice came from behind her.
Anaya didn't turn immediately.
"They look…" she hesitated, "…real."
Sara laughed lightly. "Real? They're just decorative pieces. I bought them from..... a medical decor exhibition. They're supposed to symbolize observation and awareness."
Observation.
Anaya's fingers twitched slightly at her side.
"They look like eyes," she said softly.
Sara walked closer, amused. "You've been reading too many crime headlines."
For a second — a brief second — Anaya's expression tightened. A flicker of something like discomfort crossed her face.
Then she smiled again.
"I guess."
But her gaze lingered.
Just a second too long.
Sara noticed.
"You're spooked," she said gently. "Come on. Help me cook. Food therapy is better than paranoia."
The tension dissolved gradually in the kitchen.
Onions sizzled in oil. Garlic hit the pan. Steam fogged the windows.
They bumped shoulders accidentally and laughed.
Sara teased Anaya for cutting vegetables too precisely.
"You measure everything like it's surgery," Sara joked.
Anaya paused — then smiled. "Maybe I just like things symmetrical."
They cooked together, playful, light.
For a while, the murders felt distant.
Outside the apartment, the Canal flowed quietly, indifferent.
But when Anaya washed her hands at the sink, she glanced back once more at the glass globes.
The reflections caught her face in warped fragments.
Brown eyes.
Ordinary.
Forgettable.
She turned away.
And let it go.
---
7:48 p.m. — Police Headquarters
Zarar was reviewing freezer transport possibilities when his desk phone rang.
It was Tariq.
"Sir… we have a situation."
"What now?"
"CCTV footage from Liberty Market — it's gone."
Zarar's hand stilled.
"Overwritten?"
"No, sir. Deleted."
"Recoverable?"
"IT tried. Server logs show administrative-level access. Footage erased manually. Backups cleared as well."
Zarar stood slowly.
"And Canal Road?"
A pause.
"Same."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Traffic cameras?"
"Wiped."
"Nearby shop feeds?"
"Corrupted. Not damaged. Specifically cleared within a narrow time window."
Professional.
Not vandalism.
Not random technical failure.
"This wasn't panic," Tariq added quietly. "This was clean."
Zarar's voice lowered.
"Internal credentials?"
"Yes, sir. Accessed through city surveillance system network. Someone knew exactly where to go."
"That level of clearance isn't available outside the system," Zarar said quietly. "Either someone inside helped… or the killer understands the network better than we do."
He hung up slowly.
Hair linking two victims.
Oil-based scent applied within twenty-four hours.
Body stored elsewhere for days.
Now surveillance erased without trace.
The killer wasn't just organized.
The killer was technologically capable.
Or had help from someone who was.
He walked toward the case board.
The red strings suddenly looked insufficient.
---
8:30 p.m. — Forensic Call (Follow-Up)
His phone rang again.
The lab.
"Yes."
"Sir… about the freezing timeline."
"Go on."
"We've re-run thermal degradation modeling. Internal tissue crystallization confirms initial freezing occurred approximately five days ago."
"And?"
"We found no evidence of thaw-refreeze cycles."
"So the Canal freezer wasn't the original storage."
"Correct."
"Meaning the body was stored in a separate freezing unit for several days… then transferred within the last 24 hours."
"Yes, sir."
"And the scent?"
"Still consistent with fresh application — oil-based. Concentration suggests direct spraying on clothing surface shortly before placement."
Zarar stared at the city lights outside his window.
The killer had:
• Killed five days ago
• Frozen the body immediately
• Removed hair
• Used hair in second murder
• Stored the body elsewhere
• Moved it recently
• Applied signature scent fresh
• Erased surveillance
Not chaos.
Engineering.
"Continue cross-referencing power consumption records for industrial or high-capacity freezers within a five-kilometer radius," he said finally.
"Yes, sir."
He ended the call.
---
9:20 p.m. — Street Outside Sara's Apartment
Anaya stepped out into the night air after dinner.
Sara stood at the doorway.
"See? You survived cooking with me."
"Barely," Anaya replied softly.
They smiled.
Across the narrow street, Anaya's house lights were visible.
So close.
So ordinary.
"You'll be fine," Sara said gently. "Don't let the news crawl into your head.let me drop you home "she added while petting her cheeks softly making the dimples appear .
"It's just across the street "Anaya protested almost looking done with her protectiveness
"Still let me okie little bunny " Sara said softly while tucking her loose strands of hair behind her ear
Anaya nodded.
For a split second, her gaze shifted toward the Canal — the direction where the second body had been found.
Police lights were gone now.
Only darkness remained.
She inhaled deeply. Before she could think more they were already Infront of her house,as she was walking mindlessly Sara softly hold her hand while rubbing it softly
"Don't let this all get on your head take care if your self hmm!! "
"hmm and you too Goodnight," she said while turning to move inside as JD have already opened the door Sara hold her hand pulling Anaya in soft and comforting embrace while softly kissing her cheek.
" Love you " she murmured in Anaya hair and smile while hearing her mumbles this back .
And with that Anaya move inside the house while Sara look at her as she went inside while JD was giving them both a "Done" look as it was their normal tantrum.
---
10:05 p.m. — Zarar's Office
He pinned a new card onto the board:
CCTV SYSTEM COMPROMISED — PROFESSIONAL ACCESS
He stared at it for a long moment.
The killer was either:
1. Technically skilled
2. Connected
3. Or planning several moves ahead
He replayed the Liberty Market memory again.
The faint scent.
The subtle pause he had ignored.
He wouldn't ignore it again.
Two scenes.
One fragrance.
One deliberate cross-link.
One erased digital trail.
The killer wasn't reckless.
The killer was comfortable.
Comfortable enough to operate within the city's most monitored spaces and leave nothing behind.
Except scent.
And hair.
And intention.
Zarar stepped closer to the board.
"They wants us to see the connection," he murmured.
"But not the process."
Somewhere in Lahore, in a house that looked no different from the rest, a drawer slid shut softly.
Inside it, a half-used bottle of oil-based cherry blossom perfume rested quietly.
Waiting.