THE TRUTH- MAN KIND CHAPTER -2

 

BLOG 2

TOPIC 2

CHAPTER 2

THE TRUTH

My name is Albert Brown, a detective who had recently been assigned one of the trickiest murder cases of my career. An old man had been brutally killed, and the crime scene offered no clear clues. Unfortunately, I was forced to work alongside Officer Johnny Remolds—a man as arrogant as he was reckless. His ego was larger than his badge, and I feared that his impulsive nature might one day put a bullet in my back rather than in the criminal we were chasing.

The case began with a visit to the forensic laboratory, where I met Dr. Siria Young, a brilliant forensic expert—and, truth be told, the woman I secretly admired. Siria was sharp, meticulous, and fearless, everything I wasn’t sure I could ever confess to her. But feelings had to wait; duty came first. She examined the murder weapon, a knife, and what she discovered shook us both: instead of a single fingerprint, the blade carried twenty overlapping prints. It was chaos carved into steel. I told her to take her time, assuring her that I trusted her expertise completely.

Back at the crime scene, where the boy’s grandfather had died, I spent the entire day combing through every speck of dust, every scattered object. The most heartbreaking sight was the victim’s fourteen-year-old grandson, crying endlessly, his grief echoing through the silence of the house. I urged him to step outside, to play with friends, so I could investigate without his sorrow weighing on me. That was when I noticed a mysterious pill lying near the body. When I asked the boy’s father and grandmother about it, they denied any knowledge. My instincts screamed—it wasn’t an ordinary pill.

Later, Siria called me urgently, saying she needed to discuss the knife. As I drove toward her lab, my phone rang. A stranger’s voice told me Siria wanted to talk about the knife. But I knew instantly—it was the killer. My pulse raced. I pressed harder on the accelerator, breaking traffic rules, sirens wailing behind me as five police cars chased me. It was all part of my plan; I wanted backup when I reached the lab. Flashing my ID, I stormed inside with the officers. What I saw froze my blood: Siria was lying unconscious on the floor. She was alive, but barely. I rushed her to the hospital, where she was admitted to the ICU.

Moments later, the boy’s father and Johnny arrived. Johnny grabbed my collar, his rage boiling over. He hated me—not just because of the case, but because Siria was his niece, and he despised the idea that I cared for her. Before I could explain, another call came: the boy’s grandmother had been murdered, and Harry, the boy’s father, was found injured with his head bleeding. We raced to the house. Johnny, in his fury, slapped a neighbor for not calling sooner. I summoned an ambulance and ensured Harry was taken to the hospital. My mind spun—two murders and one attempted killing in a single day. I ordered high security around Siria’s hospital room.

The neighbor claimed he had seen someone running away, a boy about Harry’s age. We followed the lead to the suspect’s house, only to find him dead as well. The chill of death was spreading faster than we could chase it. My heart sank—two murders in one day, and it was only the beginning. Then came the most shocking news: the Police Commissioner himself had been found dead in his home. I collapsed into a chair, sweat dripping from my forehead, my heart pounding like a drum ready to burst. Johnny placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Kid, I know you’ve never faced a case like this… neither have I.”

We decided to set aside our differences and work together. But danger was already stalking us. A sniper’s bullet whizzed past, forcing us to dive for cover. Across the six-lane highway, I saw him—the shooter. He stared at me, and I stared back. Both of us had guns drawn, but neither fired. It was a silent duel of predators. I realized then: this wasn’t a lone killer. It was a gang, a pack of wolves. But I swore to myself—I would find their leader. Because no matter how many hyenas circled, the lion remained king.

As Johnny and I headed toward the police station, a man rushed toward us, shouting that he had vital information. Before he could speak, a speeding car struck him down. He was still alive, gasping for breath, when suddenly a truck roared in and crushed his skull before our eyes. The horror was indescribable. In his mangled hand, he clutched a note. I picked it up, my hands trembling.

It read:

“LIONS ARE KING, BUT REMEMBER…

WOLVES HAVE NEVER PERFORMED IN A CIRCUS.”

The words burned into my mind. This was no ordinary case. This was war.

To be continued…

   TO BE CONTINUED…….