Mission Forensic
Part 17: A Photograph in the Rain
The morning after their return, Delhi lay rinsed clean beneath a veil of winter mist. The streets still glistened from the night’s rain, each puddle holding a reflection of the pale, waking sky. Inside their flat, the quiet was unhurried—soft with the familiar rhythm of two people who had learned each other’s mornings by heart.
Catherine stirred first, still warm from sleep. She lay for a moment, watching the thin light slip in through the blinds, drawing faint bars across the wall. Somewhere beyond the glass, a rickshaw bell chimed, the sound softened by distance. Beside her, Edward slept on, his breathing steady, one arm angled toward her as if even in sleep he knew where she was.
She eased herself out of bed, pulling on his grey hoodie without thinking. The sleeves swallowed her wrists; the hem brushed the tops of her thighs. The kitchen tiles were cool under her bare feet as she moved to the kettle, pressing the switch and watching the steam curl upward. She took down two mugs from the shelf, measuring coffee by instinct—strong for him, milder for herself—adding milk to hers, leaving his black.
***
Edward appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, barefoot, hair slightly mussed from the pillow, his T-shirt loose and creased. He leaned there for a moment, just looking at her, the way he sometimes did as though cataloguing every detail for some quiet archive only he kept.
“Still replaying the conference?” he asked, his voice warm with sleep.
“A little,” she admitted, sliding his mug toward him. “You and that perfectly timed presentation—you’re insufferable now.”
He smirked. “You’re only saying that because you’re worried I’ll steal the spotlight at the next one.”
***
She opened her mouth to retort—but her phone buzzed against the counter. Expecting one of Ahana’s bright, teasing “welcome back” messages or Shawn’s dry commentary on student life, she picked it up without looking—then froze.
The subject line read: No one leaves without being noticed.
The sender field was a meaningless string of letters. There was a single attachment. She hesitated only a moment before tapping it open.
The image appeared slowly, pixel by pixel. Rain-dark pavement. The glow of terminal lights. And there—herself, stepping out of their cab at Ahmedabad Airport, stole caught mid-swing, droplets clinging to its fringe. Beside her, Edward was half-turned, caught mid-step, his face sharpened in profile. The shot was angled low, deliberate—close enough that the photographer could have brushed past them without drawing notice. The timestamp in the corner read 18:02.
Edward set his coffee down, leaning closer. His eyes narrowed, the easy warmth of moments ago gone. “This wasn’t taken from a distance. Whoever shot this could have reached out and touched your arm.”
She met his gaze, reading the same calculation in his eyes that was already forming in her own thoughts.
***
Less than an hour later, they were on the NIFS Delhi campus. The winter air had followed them inside, clinging coolly to their coats. They found Shawn and Ahana exactly where they’d guessed they would be—corner booth of the campus café, laptops open, plates of half-eaten paratha between them.
Shawn looked up first, grinning. “Back from Gujarat’s glory.”
Edward slid into the seat opposite without a word, setting his phone on the table. The image filled the screen.
Shawn’s grin faded. “That’s… not good.”
“Taken at the airport,” Catherine said, her voice steady but tight. “Close. Too close.”
Ahana leaned forward, studying the edges. Her eyes sharpened. “That’s a badge lanyard in the corner. Whoever took this wasn’t just passing by—they had conference credentials.”
***
They moved to the computer lab together, the air humming faintly with the sound of machines. The official conference archive flickered across the screen, image after image passing until Catherine stopped one with her fingertip.
There—blurred in the background of a lunch hall shot—the man. Windbreaker zipped high, head slightly lowered, gaze fixed unmistakably in their direction.
Shawn bent closer. “Hiding in plain sight.”
The badge number was half-visible. Not enough for an immediate identification, but enough to narrow the search. Shawn jotted it down, the scratch of his pen loud in the stillness.
***
When they stepped outside, drizzle had returned, threading through the air like fine silk. Catherine’s phone buzzed again in her pocket. She pulled it out, thumb hesitating before she opened the new message.
Stop looking. You’re not the only ones watching.
Edward read it over her shoulder. The rain clung to his hair as he looked from her to Shawn and Ahana. His voice was calm, but the undercurrent was sharp.
“Then we watch back.”
Continue to Next Part
