At 4:32 p.m., Raka realized that someone had deliberately made him suspect the person he trusted most.
The problem wasn't that Dimas might be guilty.
The real problem was far worse.
Someone knew exactly how to lead Raka to that conclusion.
And whoever was capable of doing that had probably studied the way he thought.
Rain fell as Raka left Aruna Hotel.
Naya walked behind him.
"You're not going to say anything?"
Raka kept walking.
"Raka."
"I'm thinking."
"That's exactly what worries me."
Raka stopped beside the car.
"Do you still have the security-camera footage?"
"I do."
"Show me."
Naya opened her phone.
Raka looked at the image of the man in a hat entering Room 217.
The ring.
The scar.
The black jacket.
The hat.
The mask.
Raka zoomed in on the man's hand.
"Go back a few seconds before he entered the room."
Naya played it back.
The man walked from the far end of the hallway.
His right hand was clearly visible.
Raka studied the way he walked.
Then he asked her to slow the video down.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
The man inserted the room key card.
His right hand.
The ring was visible.
Raka played it again.
This time, he didn't look at the ring.
He watched the way the man walked.
"Why?" Naya asked.
"The shoes."
"What?"
"Zoom in on his feet."
Naya zoomed in.
Black shoes.
Thick soles.
Raka fell silent.
"You recognize them?"
"A lot of people wear shoes like that."
"So?"
"The shoes aren't the problem."
Raka pointed at the man's right foot.
"He's limping."
Naya watched closely.
"A little."
"Yeah."
"Why does that matter?"
"Because Dimas doesn't limp."
5:18 p.m.
Raka arrived at the police station.
Dimas was in the interrogation room.
When he saw Raka, he smiled.
"Find the mysterious woman?"
"I did."
Dimas raised an eyebrow.
"Where?"
"At her house."
Dimas gave a quiet laugh.
"That makes this case even stranger."
Raka sat across from him.
"Do you wear a ring?"
Dimas looked at his left hand.
A silver ring was visible on his ring finger.
There was no black line.
Raka studied it.
"This one?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"On the hotel footage, the person who entered Room 217 was wearing a similar ring."
Dimas looked at Raka.
"Similar?"
"Exactly the same."
Dimas took off the ring.
He set it on the table.
"It belonged to my father."
Raka didn't touch it.
"You always wear it?"
"Almost always."
"Including the night Kirana was reported missing?"
Dimas nodded.
"Yeah."
"Where were you?"
"At the office."
"At eleven at night?"
"Yeah."
"Were there security cameras?"
Dimas smiled.
"Are you starting to suspect me?"
"I'm just asking questions."
"The answer's there."
Dimas stood.
They went to the monitoring room.
The police-station footage was brought up.
10:57 p.m.
Dimas entered the room.
11:10 p.m.
He left.
11:12 p.m.
He came back.
11:31 p.m.
He was still visible at his desk.
11:44 p.m.
He stood up.
11:51 p.m.
He sat back down.
12:03 a.m.
He was still there.
Dimas folded his arms.
"There."
Raka watched the screen.
He said nothing.
Dimas smiled.
"If you want to accuse me, go ahead."
"I'm not accusing you."
"But you're thinking it."
Raka nodded.
"That's right."
Dimas stopped smiling.
"Why?"
"Because people who try too hard to clear their names usually have something to hide."
Dimas stared at him.
"You've changed since you left the police."
"Everyone changes."
"Even you?"
"Especially me."
Raka played the footage again.
He noticed something.
11:44 p.m.
Dimas stood from his chair.
The camera showed him from the front.
But the computer screen behind Dimas was lit up.
Raka froze the image.
"Zoom in."
The operator zoomed in.
A document was visible on Dimas's computer screen.
Raka read the title.
Arman Prakoso Case Report.
Raka looked at Dimas.
"You opened Arman's case file that night?"
Dimas nodded.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because I'm the investigator on the case."
"After eleven?"
"This case is important."
Raka stared at the screen.
Then he said:
"Play the footage from five minutes earlier."
The video played.
Dimas was sitting down.
11:39 p.m.
An officer arrived carrying a file.
He set it on Dimas's desk.
Dimas picked it up.
Raka zoomed in on the file.
There was small writing in the corner.
Additional Evidence — Arman Prakoso.
Raka looked at Dimas.
"Who delivered it?"
Dimas named a junior investigator.
Raka asked for him to be brought in.
A few minutes later, a young police officer entered.
His name was Fajar.
"I did deliver the file."
"What time?" Raka asked.
"Around 11:38."
"What was in it?"
"An additional report."
"Who requested it?"
Fajar was silent for a moment.
"Mr. Dimas."
Raka turned to Dimas.
"You requested it?"
Dimas nodded.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because there was new information."
"What kind?"
Dimas took a breath.
"Arman had a secret account."
Raka fell silent.
"How much?"
"We don't know yet."
"Who found it?"
"The bank."
"Why only now?"
"Because the account was under a company's identity."
Raka stood.
"Give me a copy."
Dimas looked at him.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"It's an official criminal investigation."
Raka stepped closer.
"And if that account is connected to the murder?"
Dimas stared at him.
"That's what we're trying to find out."
7:05 p.m.
Raka and Naya returned to the car.
"He's hiding something," Naya said.
"Yeah."
"Then he's the perpetrator."
"No."
Naya looked at him.
"You just said he's hiding something."
"People hide a lot of things."
"Including perpetrators."
"That's right."
"Then why isn't it Dimas?"
Raka started the engine.
"Because if he were the perpetrator, he wouldn't need to leave the ring behind."
Naya frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"He knew I'd notice it."
"So the ring is a trap?"
"Not necessarily."
Raka looked in the rearview mirror.
A white car was behind them.
"We're being followed."
Naya looked.
"Which one?"
"Don't turn around."
Their car moved.
The white car kept following.
Raka turned left.
The white car followed.
Raka turned again.
The white car followed.
Naya began to tense up.
"Raka."
"I know."
"Should we go to the police station?"
"No."
"Why?"
"If they want us scared, we shouldn't let them know they've succeeded."
Raka accelerated.
Then he turned onto a narrow street.
The white car followed.
Raka suddenly hit the brakes.
The white car passed them.
Raka immediately looked at the driver.
A woman.
Short hair.
Glasses.
And on her right hand—
A black ring.
Naya was startled.
"That's her."
Raka didn't give chase.
"Why not?"
"Because she wants us to chase her."
The white car disappeared.
Naya looked at Raka.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because if she were afraid, she'd speed up."
"And?"
"Instead, she slowed down before passing us."
Raka picked up his phone.
He sent a message to someone.
Naya read the recipient's name.
Dimas.
The message was brief.
Someone else is wearing that ring. Find its original owner.
9:10 p.m.
Dimas called.
"Raka."
"What?"
"I've been looking into it."
"What did you find?"
"That type of ring was custom-made."
"Where?"
"A craftsman on Jalan Sudirman."
"Who bought it?"
"There was a record."
Raka picked up a pen.
Dimas said a name.
Raka stopped writing.
"Repeat that."
Dimas repeated it.
Raka looked at Naya.
That name suddenly silenced the inside of the car.
Kirana Prameswari.
Naya immediately said:
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"The victim's name."
Raka shook his head.
"No."
He opened the photo of Kirana that Naya had given him.
"The woman found at her house was named Kirana."
Naya nodded.
"So?"
"Her full name was Kirana Prameswari."
They looked at each other.
Naya whispered:
"So the ring belonged to Kirana?"
"It should have."
"Then the woman in the car was Kirana."
Raka didn't answer.
He stared at the photo.
Then something made him stop.
It was an ID photo.
Kirana was wearing simple clothes.
Her hair was combed back.
Her face was clearly visible.
Raka zoomed in on her hand.
There was no ring.
Naya said:
"Maybe she didn't wear it every day."
"Maybe."
Raka reopened the hotel footage.
The man in the hat.
The ring.
The scar.
He studied the man's hand.
Then Kirana's photo.
Then the footage again.
"This isn't Kirana's ring."
Naya frowned.
"You said Kirana bought it."
"She did."
"Then?"
Raka pointed at the ring.
"There's an engraving."
Naya leaned closer.
Several small letters were visible on the inside of the ring.
K.P.
Naya fell silent.
"Kirana Prameswari."
"Yeah."
Raka shook his head.
"But this ring was made for someone."
"Who?"
Raka zoomed in on another part.
There was a number.
17.
Naya was silent.
"Room 217."
Raka nodded.
"This isn't someone's ring."
"Then what is it?"
"It's a sign."
11:37 p.m.
Raka received a call from Dimas.
His voice was different.
More tense.
"Raka."
"What?"
"We've found the occupant of Room 218."
Raka sat up straight.
"Who?"
Dimas was silent.
"What?"
"Room 218 is registered under Arman Prakoso's name."
A chill crept up the back of Raka's neck.
"Since when?"
"For the past three months."
Raka stood.
"Who was using it?"
"According to the hotel records..."
Dimas stopped.
"Arman himself."
Raka looked at Naya.
"So Arman had a secret room."
"Yeah."
"And Room 217?"
Dimas answered:
"Registered to Kirana."
Raka closed his eyes.
Two rooms.
Side by side.
Two names.
Two people everyone believed had no connection.
But apparently, they had been using the same hotel for three months.
Raka asked:
"Who rented Room 219?"
Dimas was silent for longer this time.
Then he answered:
"We haven't checked yet."
"Why not?"
"Because the room was never recorded as vacant."
Raka frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"The hotel records show that Room 219 was never occupied."
"Then why does that matter?"
"Because tonight, a hotel employee opened the door."
"What was inside?"
Dimas didn't answer right away.
"Raka..."
"What?"
"We found photos."
"Photos of who?"
"You."
Raka froze.
"How many?"
"Dozens."
Naya stared at him.
Dimas continued:
"Photos of you leaving the office."
"Photos of you entering your house."
"Photos of you meeting Naya."
"Photos of you visiting Arman's family."
Raka said nothing.
Then Dimas said the words that changed the entire direction of the case.
"And there's one photo taken tonight."
"What photo?"
"A photo of you sitting in the car."
Raka slowly turned to look through the rear window.
The street was dark.
There were no vehicles.
No people.
Yet beneath a streetlamp, about fifty yards from their car, a man was standing.
Not moving.
Just watching.
Raka turned off the car's lights.
The man remained standing.
Then Raka's phone chimed.
A message came in.
DON'T LOOK FOR WHO KILLED ARMAN.
A second message arrived.
LOOK FOR WHO MADE YOU LOOK FOR ARMAN.
Raka stared at the screen.
A third message appeared.
THE FIRST CASE HASN'T EVEN BEGUN.
Raka swallowed.
Because for the first time, he realized something far more horrifying than the existence of a killer.
Someone had arranged this chain of cases before Raka knew the first case had ever happened.
And if that was true...
then Arman's death wasn't the beginning of it all.
It was merely the first step deliberately designed to make Raka move.
END OF CHAPTER 3
Next in Chapter 4:
Room 219 contains dozens of photos of Raka.
But one photo truly shakes him.
The photo shows Raka before he became an independent investigator.
On the back of the photo is a date.
The date when Raka was still a police officer.
And a short handwritten message:
"I've been watching you since the case that made you quit."