The morning after the first investigation, I woke to the sound of rain tapping against my window. The city was quiet, though the streets would soon fill with commuters and the usual chaos. I spent the first hour reviewing my notes, analyzing the footprints, mud samples, and CCTV frames again. Every piece of evidence mattered. Every small detail could point to the missing student's location or the person responsible. Patterns were hidden in the ordinary, and finding them required patience, focus, and a steady mind.
Navid arrived just as I finished going through the data. He moved with his usual calm precision, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the room. "You've organized everything neatly," he said. "It will help identify connections faster." I didn't respond. I wasn't in the mood for praise, and I didn't give it easily. Instead, I nodded toward the evidence spread across the table. "The paint chip, the footprints, the CCTV anomalies. What do you see?"
He leaned over, inspecting the materials carefully. "The paint chip is fresh. I compared it to vehicles nearby. There's a delivery van registered to a construction company parked near the library every night. It matches the shade and texture. The footprints suggest at least two people handled the student. One larger, heavier, dragging the victim; the other smaller, following closely, possibly monitoring or guiding." He paused, tapping the table. "The drag pattern indicates they were careful. They did not want to leave evidence beyond the footprints and smears. Whoever did this planned it."
I considered his words. Careful planning meant it wasn't random. Someone knew the area. Someone could have anticipated the investigation. "Do you think the student resisted?" I asked.
Navid studied the mud samples again. "Minimal resistance. No deep scuffs or torn clothing. He may have been caught by surprise or restrained quickly. Gloves would explain the lack of fingerprints."
I ran my hand over my face, thinking. The evidence was starting to form a picture. Someone with knowledge of the city, strength, and careful timing. Possibly connected to the university or someone who had been watching the student for a while.
"Then we need to know who was in the area," I said. "CCTV, delivery schedules, student movements. Anything unusual last night."
Navid nodded. "I will help. But we should divide tasks. Efficiency matters."
I hesitated for only a second. His calm tone and precision were unnerving, but I needed help. "Fine. I will handle the university records and witness statements. You check vehicles and delivery schedules."
We spent the next few hours collecting data. I interviewed students and staff, asking the same questions I had yesterday but with more focus. Subtle details emerged. A janitor mentioned seeing a man near the back entrance carrying a large package, leaving around the time the student disappeared. His description was vague, but it matched the height and build suggested by the footprints.
Navid returned with his findings. "The van is consistent," he said. "Registered to a construction company, but there are no deliveries scheduled last night. GPS tracker shows the vehicle parked near the library from 10:30 PM to 11:00 PM. That overlaps with the student's disappearance."
I nodded, connecting dots. "So they used a delivery vehicle to avoid suspicion. Smart."
Navid's expression didn't change. "Efficient. Pre-planned. They likely expected CCTV scrutiny. The flicker we saw could have been intentional—to hide activity or manipulate timing."
I felt a chill. Someone had thought ahead, anticipating that I would notice. That meant they had either studied the student or had experience with investigations.
"Do we know if the van is linked to anyone on campus?" I asked.
Navid shook his head. "Not directly. The driver is temporary. No personal connections. But someone could have gained access."
I scribbled notes, thinking. The student's disappearance was no longer random. It was targeted, planned, and executed with care. Whoever did it was smart, experienced, and cautious. I didn't like smart and experienced people who could manipulate situations. I preferred predictable patterns.
We decided to examine the area around the library and the van's last known location. The rain had stopped, leaving the ground wet but visible. Footprints and tire marks could still be traced. Navid walked beside me, silently observing every angle, every reflection, every possible hiding spot. His presence made me aware of my own habits. I noticed the way he tilted his head when he measured distances and how he recorded data without drawing attention. His efficiency was impressive, but I felt a constant edge of caution.
We found tire marks partially covered by the rain. Navid knelt to inspect them. "Front tires show slight wear on the left side, suggesting uneven distribution. Could indicate heavy cargo or a rushed exit. Rear tires are clean, indicating careful driving. The pattern matches the van's movement last night."
I crouched beside him, studying the marks. It was precise, almost surgical. Whoever drove the van knew what they were doing. I traced the path with my eyes, imagining the student being moved, the driver maneuvering through narrow streets. My stomach tightened.
"Do you think they're still nearby?" I asked.
Navid stood and shook his head. "Impossible to say. They could be gone, or they could be waiting for another opportunity. The evidence shows planning, not improvisation. They will act according to a plan, not instinct."
I nodded slowly, realizing that this was no ordinary case. Every step, every movement, every choice had been calculated. And I was chasing someone who could predict actions, someone who might be watching me as closely as I was observing them.
We returned to the office to review the evidence. Navid laid out photographs, notes, and sketches, arranging them meticulously. I noticed the way he highlighted connections I had not seen, patterns in the tire marks, footprints, and reflections that suggested timing and strategy. I could not ignore that his observations were precise, but his calmness unnerved me. There was no warmth, no impatience, no overt emotion. Only efficiency.
"You notice patterns others would miss," I said finally. "But I wonder… do you do this for work or interest?"
Navid looked at me, expression neutral. "Interest requires emotion. Work requires observation. I observe. That is enough."
I did not respond. I understood the words, but the meaning left a cold impression. Observation without attachment, calculation without empathy. It was useful, but it could be dangerous.
By the time evening came, we had a tentative lead. The van, temporary driver, suspicious footprints, and the CCTV flicker gave us direction. I reviewed every piece of evidence again, noting timing, distances, and the sequence of events. Every step mattered. Every small detail could change the outcome.
Navid watched me quietly. "You think too linearly sometimes. Patterns are useful, but humans do not always follow them."
I looked at him sharply. "And you think you see the gaps I miss?"
He smiled faintly. "I notice details. You notice connections. Together, we cover more ground."
I did not answer. I wanted to. I also did not trust him. His calm, precise presence both helped and unnerved me. I realized that working with him would challenge my methods, my instincts, and perhaps my judgment.
That night, I sat alone, reviewing maps, CCTV stills, and evidence photos. The city slept outside, unaware of the missing student and the man who had become my reluctant partner in this investigation. I could not predict what would happen next, but I knew one thing. Whoever planned this disappearance was careful, smart, and experienced. And whoever they were, they had already thought one step ahead of me.
I could feel it, even now.