Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The knock on the door came again.
“Alya? I know you're in there.”
Raka's voice remained calm, but it sounded firmer than before.
Alya gripped the scrap of paper bearing the threat. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it herself.
Investigator Raka Adiputra is not someone you can trust.
The sentence kept echoing in her head.
She drew a deep breath, folded the letter, and slipped it into one of the criminal law books on the shelf. After making sure the brown folder was tucked away in the desk drawer, she finally walked toward the door.
Her hand paused over the knob.
If Raka really suspected her, opening the door meant letting an investigator into her room.
But if she refused…
His suspicions would only grow.
Click.
The door opened slowly.
Raka stood outside in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held a black folder and a small notebook.
His gaze met Alya's eyes at once.
“Good afternoon.”
Alya tried to sound calm. “Afternoon.”
“Sorry to bother you. May I come in for a moment?”
Alya hesitated for a few seconds before nodding.
“Come in.”
Raka stepped inside, surveying the simple room. A desk was covered with law books, a small shelf held novels, a laptop was still on, and a cup of coffee had gone cold.
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Almost two years.”
Raka nodded slowly, then stood beside the desk without touching anything.
“I just want to ask you a few questions about what happened at Jembatan Merah.”
Alya nodded.
“Go ahead.”
Raka opened his notebook.
“Full name?”
“Alya Mahardika.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-two.”
“A law student at Nusantara University?”
“Yes.”
Raka wrote a few lines before looking at her again.
“You arrived at the murder scene around nine this morning.”
“Yes.”
“What was your reason for going there?”
Alya had prepared her answer earlier.
“I saw the news online. Since I'm a law student, I was curious about how the police secured a crime scene.”
“That all?”
“Yes.”
Raka did not immediately write anything.
He simply studied Alya's face for a moment.
“What do you think the victim was killed over?”
The question made Alya stop breathing for a moment.
If she answered too much, she could trap herself.
If she said too little, she would look evasive.
“I don't know yet.”
“If you had to guess?”
“Maybe… revenge.”
Raka nodded slowly.
“Why not robbery?”
“Because the victim's wallet was still there.”
Raka smiled faintly.
“We haven't released that information to the media.”
The room suddenly fell silent.
Alya froze.
She had just realized she'd made a mistake.
The news she'd read had never mentioned the victim's wallet.
She had only learned that from overhearing two locals talking near the police line.
But how could she explain that?
“Some people nearby were talking about it,” Alya answered as quickly as possible. “I happened to overhear them.”
Raka continued staring at her.
“That all?”
“Yes.”
Several seconds passed.
Then Raka started writing again.
Alya exhaled softly.
At least she'd gotten away with it.
For now.
“I have another question.”
Alya straightened again.
“Did you know Dimas Pratama?”
“No.”
“Had you ever met him?”
“Never.”
“Did you ever contact him?”
“No.”
Raka pulled out a photo of the victim and placed it on the desk.
“Look closely.”
Alya stared at the photograph.
The face of a man around thirty, wearing a faint smile.
A stranger.
A complete stranger.
“I don't know him.”
Raka took the photo back.
“Then why did you look so shocked when you were at the scene?”
Alya fell silent.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I was watching you.”
Raka folded his arms.
“Most people who come are just curious.”
“But you were different.”
“You looked like you were checking on something.”
The words hit their mark.
Alya bit her lower lip.
“I… was just shocked.”
“Shocked by what?”
“Because it was my first time seeing a murder scene.”
Raka did not answer.
His gaze shifted to the bookshelf.
Dozens of books on criminal law, criminal procedure, criminology, and forensic psychology stood in neat rows.
“You like to read?”
“Yes.”
“Criminology too?”
“Yes.”
“That explains why you were interested in coming to the crime scene.”
Alya nodded slowly.
But in her heart, she knew…
The real reason was far more complicated.
As he was about to close his notebook, Raka's eyes accidentally fell on a family photo sitting on a small table.
He picked it up slowly.
“Are these your parents?”
Alya's expression changed.
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry.”
Raka studied the photo for a few seconds.
“They've both passed away?”
Alya nodded slowly.
“A long time ago.”
“My condolences.”
“Thank you.”
For the first time since he arrived, Raka's voice sounded gentler.
He returned the photo frame to its place.
“Who do you live with now?”
“Alone. My older sibling lives in another city.”
Raka nodded.
“Then we're done.”
Alya felt slightly relieved.
But after taking only two steps toward the door, Raka stopped.
“Oh, right.”
“Yes?”
“Yesterday…”
Raka looked into Alya's eyes, his expression impossible to read.
“I saw you crouching near the bridge railing.”
Alya's body immediately tensed.
“Are you sure you didn't take anything?”
The room fell silent again.
Alya's heartbeat quickened.
The judge's-hammer logo button was still tucked inside the small pocket of her bag.
If she lied…
And Raka had proof…
Everything would be over.
“Why are you quiet?” Raka asked.
Alya forced a smile.
“I was crouching.”
“Why?”
“My shoelace had come undone.”
Raka looked at her shoes.
Then he looked back at her face.
Several seconds passed without a word.
Then he nodded slowly.
“All right.”
He opened the door.
“One more thing.”
Alya turned back.
“If you remember even the smallest detail about this case someday…”
Raka pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to her.
“…call me. Don't try to investigate it yourself.”
Alya accepted the card.
“Okay.”
Raka walked out of the boarding house room.
From behind the window, Alya watched the man get into his official car.
But the car did not leave right away.
Raka remained seated behind the wheel.
As if…
He was still watching Alya's room.
Inside, Alya gripped the business card tightly.
She didn't know whom to trust.
The mysterious letter said Raka was dangerous.
But her instincts told her instead…
The man was trying to protect her. The car did not leave the boarding-house grounds until nearly ten minutes later.
Alya was still standing behind the curtain, watching the car's taillights disappear at the end of the street.
She slowly closed the curtains.
The business card Raka had given her was still in her hand.
Raka Adiputra Criminal Investigation Unit
His personal phone number was printed beneath his name.
“Don't try to investigate it yourself.”
The sentence kept echoing in her head.
If Raka really suspected her, why had he left her his personal number?
But the threatening letter had also been clear.
Investigator Raka Adiputra is not someone you can trust.
Two things that contradicted each other.
Alya dropped into the chair.
“Who exactly is playing with me?”
The night grew later.
The clock showed eleven.
Alya opened the second case file again.
She decided to read every detail more carefully than before.
The first page contained the victim's identity.
The second page contained a simple sketch of Terminal Kota.
The third page…
Made her breath catch.
In the middle of the page was a drawing of the bus stop's layout.
One spot had been circled in red.
A handwritten note appeared beside it.
The victim will stand here.
Alya enlarged the layout using her phone's camera.
There was a small X across from the bus stop.
Directly above the roof of an abandoned building.
“This…”
She opened her map app.
Searched for Terminal Kota.
Then compared it with the layout.
Her eyes widened.
The building marked with the X really existed.
A three-story old building that was no longer in use.
If the shooter fired from there…
The victim would be clearly visible.
“I have to stop it.”
For the first time since receiving the folder, Alya had something she could use.
The location.
Not just the date.
The next morning, Alya headed to Terminal Kota.
She wore a gray hoodie and a black cap so she wouldn't be easily recognized.
The terminal was already crowded with passengers.
Intercity buses came and went.
Street vendors filled the sidewalks.
Horns blared amid conductors' shouts.
Alya stood several yards from the bus stop shown in the layout.
Exactly.
Even the lamppost was in the same position.
She looked up at the old building across the street.
Its windows were shattered.
The paint was peeling from its walls.
There was no sign of anyone inside.
Yet for some reason…
She felt that someone was watching her.
She crossed the street.
The building's main door was secured with a rusty chain.
A narrow alley ran along the side.
Alya followed it until she found a back door hanging slightly open.
“Why isn't this locked?”
She pushed the door open slowly.
Creeeak…
The sound of rusty hinges shattered the silence.
Dust covered the inside of the building.
Her footsteps left prints on the floor.
The stairs to the second floor looked fragile.
But they were still passable.
The higher she climbed, the quieter it became.
Only the sound of birds nesting in the ceiling remained.
When she reached the third floor, Alya stopped.
A large window faced the bus stop directly.
The distance…
Was exactly the same as in the layout.
If someone brought a rifle…
The victim would be an easy target.
Alya approached the window.
Long scrape marks marred the floor.
As if something heavy had once been placed there.
She crouched down.
Touched the marks with her fingertip.
They were still fresh.
Dust hadn't even covered the entire surface.
“That means…”
Someone had been here not long ago.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded from below.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Alya froze.
Someone was there.
The footsteps drew closer.
Slowly.
Rhythmically.
It wasn't the wind.
Someone was climbing the stairs.
Alya's heart pounded.
She quickly hid behind the wall beside the window.
The footsteps stopped in front of the third-floor door.
Silence.
Several seconds passed.
Then…
The door opened slowly.
A tall man entered carrying a flashlight.
Alya peeked out.
Not the killer.
Raka.
“Come out.”
Raka's voice was flat.
“I know you're here.”
Alya closed her eyes.
Caught.
Slowly, she stepped out from behind the wall.
Raka looked at her without the slightest surprise.
“I figured.”
Alya tried to smile.
“Were you following me, sir?”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I was inspecting this building too.”
Alya didn't believe him.
“Really?”
Raka sighed.
“You think you're the only one who can read patterns?”
The words left Alya speechless.
“Patterns?”
“Dimas was stabbed.”
Raka walked toward the window.
“The killer chose a secluded location.”
He pointed toward the bus stop across the street.
“If there really is a second victim…”
Raka stopped speaking.
Alya turned to him at once.
“What do you mean, sir?”
Raka gave her a sharp look.
“I did that on purpose.”
“Did what?”
“I wanted to see your reaction just now.”
Alya felt her throat tighten.
“My reaction?”
“You immediately looked toward the bus stop.”
Raka closed his notebook.
“Even though I never said there would be a second victim.”
Alya's face went pale.
She had made another mistake.
A mistake she couldn't explain.
Raka stepped closer.
Only three feet separated them.
“Who are you really, Alya?”
Their eyes met.
For the first time, Alya saw something in Raka's eyes.
Not anger.
Curiosity.
And a little…
Concern.
Before Alya could answer, a gunshot suddenly echoed from outside the building.
Bang!
They both turned toward the bus stop.
People began screaming in panic.
A woman collapsed on the sidewalk.
Raka immediately ran for the stairs.
“Don't go anywhere!”
But Alya had already seen the fallen woman's face.
The same face…
As the one in the second case file.
Ratu Anindya. Bang!
The gunshot shattered the terminal's commotion.
Screams erupted from every direction.
People who had been lining up for buses scattered for cover. Some dropped their bags, while others ran without even looking back.
Raka was the first to move.
“Police! Everyone, move!”
He raced down the old building's stairs.
Alya clenched her fists.
She knew that woman.
Not because they had ever met.
But because the woman's name and face had haunted her for two days.
Ratu Anindya.
Without thinking, Alya ran after him.
“Alya!” Raka shouted from below. “Don't follow me!”
But Alya ignored him.
By the time she exited the building, the terminal was already in chaos.
A woman lay near the bus stop.
People formed a circle around her, but no one dared approach.
When Alya finally pushed through the crowd, the breath left her lungs.
The fallen woman really was Ratu.
But…
She was still conscious.
Her hand clutched her blood-soaked left shoulder.
The bullet had missed her chest.
“P… please…” Ratu whispered, her face pale.
Alya immediately knelt beside her.
“An ambulance! Someone call an ambulance!” she shouted at the people nearby.
Raka knelt too and quickly pressed a handkerchief against Ratu's wound.
“The bullet went through her shoulder. She still has a chance,” he said firmly.
He turned to one of the police officers who had just arrived.
“Go after the shooter! Seal every exit from the terminal!”
“Yes, sir!”
Several officers immediately split up.
Raka refocused on the victim.
“Ratu, listen to me. Can you hear my voice?”
Ratu nodded weakly.
“Good. Stay conscious.”
Alya held the woman's hand.
“The ambulance is coming.”
Ratu's eyes slowly opened.
Her gaze moved between Alya and Raka.
“Not…”
“What?” Alya asked.
“Not… him…”
“What do you mean?”
Ratu tried to raise her hand, then pointed toward the roof of the old building they had just left.
“Still…”
Before she could finish, her eyes closed.
“Ratu!” Alya cried in panic.
Raka immediately checked her pulse.
“She fainted. Hurry!”
The ambulance siren finally sounded as it approached.
A few minutes later, Ratu was rushed to the hospital.
The police began putting up a new perimeter.
The identification team busied itself collecting shell casings and examining every corner of the scene.
Raka stood staring at the old building across the street.
His expression turned serious.
“He missed…” he murmured.
Alya, standing beside him, turned.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“If the chest was really the target, the shooter couldn't have missed by that much.”
“Then?”
Raka sighed.
“Something must have interfered with the shot.”
His words reminded Alya of something.
Before the gunshot rang out…
She had seen a pigeon flying out of the third-floor window.
Could that have been the reason?
Before she could share the thought, a police officer ran over.
“Sir!”
“What is it?”
“We found something on the third floor.”
Raka immediately strode off.
“Alya, stay here.”
This time, Alya did not argue.
She watched from a distance as Raka and several officers reentered the old building.
About fifteen minutes later, they emerged carrying a black suitcase.
Raka's face looked even more serious.
That afternoon.
Alya had just arrived back at her boarding house when her phone rang.
An unknown number.
Her heart immediately began pounding.
She hesitated for several seconds before answering.
“Hello?”
The same voice came through again.
Cold.
Flat.
Altered with a voice changer.
“You made a mistake.”
Alya gripped her phone tightly.
“Who are you?”
“You changed the course of the game.”
“What do you want?”
“Ratu was supposed to die today.”
Alya's breath caught.
“Then you're the killer?”
A soft laugh came from the other end.
“You're too smart for a college student.”
“Why are you doing all this?”
“Aren't you a law student?”
The voice sounded as if it were smiling.
“In your opinion…”
“…what's more entertaining than putting people on trial?”
Click.
The call disconnected.
Alya tried calling back.
The number was no longer in service.
She slowly lowered her phone.
Her hands trembled.
The killer had just admitted one thing.
Ratu really had been the target.
Which meant…
The files weren't prophecies.
They were murder plans.
Night began to fall.
Alya opened the second case file.
Something felt different.
Its page count had increased.
It had contained only five sheets before.
Now there was a new page at the very back.
With trembling hands, she opened it.
There was only one sentence.
The victim survived.
The trial is postponed.
Alya's eyes widened.
“Wait…”
The sentence slowly changed.
As if black ink were being written by an invisible hand.
Because you interfered…
The rules of the game have changed.
Alya's breathing quickened.
Then the final sentence appeared.
The third case has been moved up.
Time remaining: 24 hours.
Crash!
The brown folder fell from her hands.
At the same time, her phone rang.
It wasn't an unknown number.
It was…
Raka Adiputra.
Alya stared at the name for several seconds before answering.
“Hello?”
Raka's voice sounded far more serious than usual.
“Alya, listen to me carefully.”
“What happened?”
“We just opened the suitcase found in the old building.”
The contents made Alya hold her breath.
“What was inside?”
Raka was silent for a moment before answering.
“There are photos of you inside.”
Alya's world seemed to stop spinning.
“That's not all,” Raka continued heavily.
“The person who shot Ratu… seems to have been looking for you.”