CHAPTER TWELVE
The night outside the university was quiet, but inside the small investigation room at the station, tension had taken permanent residence. James sat behind the desk, the dull glow of the lamp casting long shadows across his determined face. In front of him, the three boys caught on the CCTV—Garry, Peter, and Nelson—sat uneasily, hands cuffed, eyes darting between each other and the detective.
"You know why you're here," James said softly, his voice steady but carrying weight. "I need every detail. Everything you saw in that hallway the day Mariam died."
Peter swallowed hard. "We… we already told you everything, sir. We just passed by. She… she was there, scrolling on her phone, and then… then everything went wrong."
James leaned back, studying him carefully. "Everything went wrong isn't enough. I need specifics. Even the smallest details can matter. Did you see anyone else? Hear anything unusual?"
Nelson shifted uneasily in his seat. "There… there were… shadows. People… we didn't know them. They weren't students."
James narrowed his eyes. Shadows. Unfamiliar figures. Someone had been there, someone the cameras hadn't clearly captured.
Garry nodded quickly. "We didn't notice at first. They were just standing… watching. We thought maybe it was the school security or someone, but… no. They weren't."
James scribbled in his notebook, his mind racing. If there were unidentified observers, Mariam's death wasn't just an accident or the result of bullying. Someone had been watching. Someone had planned—or at least exploited—the situation.
The boys' voices trembled as they added small pieces: footsteps that came from corners not covered by cameras, shadows that moved deliberately, the feeling of eyes on them, the way Mariam looked up once and froze. James listened, mentally stitching together the timeline.
"You all will remain here until morning," James said, standing. "Do not speak to anyone else about this. Understood?"
The boys nodded frantically, relief and fear mingling in their eyes.
James returned to the CCTV footage, replaying every frame, every angle. The boys' testimony confirmed what the cameras had missed: someone had been there, in the blind spots, moving with purpose. The footage was grainy, and every second that passed only deepened the mystery.
He rubbed his temples. Everything about Mariam's death, Jacob's poisoning, the missing CCTV footage, and the whispers of something hidden within the hospital, the school, and the campus felt like pieces of a puzzle with most of the pieces missing.
Hours passed with James reviewing footage, cross-checking testimonies, and mapping the school corridors. The world outside woke slowly, unaware of the storm quietly brewing within the walls of the university. Students whispered rumors in tight circles, some speculating about suicide, others about accidents, and a few daring to suggest something more sinister. But no one had proof, and no one knew the full truth.
The three boys were key to understanding what had happened, yet they were also vulnerable. They hadn't caused the tragedy, but they had seen enough to know that fear lingered, that danger could strike again at any moment. James could sense it in the way their eyes flicked toward the door at every noise.
Meanwhile, the uncertainty of Jacob's condition gnawed at him. How deeply had the poisoning affected him? What lingering effects might emerge in hours or days? And what did that mean for the larger puzzle he was trying to solve?
James leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen. Shadows in the footage, gaps in the timeline, and moments that didn't add up all pointed toward something far larger than anyone had realized. The incident wasn't simple; it wasn't just bullying or coincidence. There was intention behind it, though by whom or why, he did not yet know.
A sudden thought struck him: the chaos had been deliberate. Whoever had orchestrated this had planned for witnesses, distractions, and confusion. The three boys were part of the story now, but they were also pieces in a bigger scheme, perhaps meant to mislead, perhaps meant to reveal more than they realized.
Outside the room, the city stretched in early morning quiet. Birds called, cars hummed along the streets, and the world carried on as if nothing had happened. But inside the station, the calm was a façade. Danger was close, and James could feel it. He didn't know where it would strike next, or who might be involved.
He returned to the footage again, meticulously going frame by frame. Something about the timing bothered him. Mariam's final moments were captured, but the actions leading up to them were blurred, incomplete, and confusing. The footage didn't tell the whole story. It never could. Someone had ensured that.
James paused, leaning forward, hands pressed against the desk. The pieces of this tragedy were scattered across multiple layers: the students, the hospital, the corridors, and the shadows that moved unseen. And all the while, questions piled on top of questions: who had the motive? Who had access? And who had the audacity to manipulate events so precisely?
The boys shifted in their seats, their discomfort palpable. James realized that the terror they felt wasn't just about being caught—it was about what they had seen, and the fact that whatever they witnessed was far beyond the normal scope of their world.
He exhaled slowly, leaning back, letting the silence of the station settle around him. Every step forward revealed more uncertainty. Every answer seemed to multiply the questions.
And through it all, James understood one truth with chilling clarity: this was far from over. The death of Mariam, the poisoning of Jacob, and the shadowed figures in the footage were just the beginning.
He glanced at the three boys once more, seeing fear, confusion, and honesty in their eyes. They were witnesses, yes, but the real danger—whatever it was—still lurked somewhere beyond the walls of the station, waiting, watching, and possibly planning the next move.
James' hands tightened into fists. The investigation had only just begun, but already he sensed that the deeper he dug, the darker the path would become. Every corridor, every quiet corner of the university, every unobserved step could conceal a secret—and one wrong step could unleash consequences far worse than anything he had seen so far.
And so, with dawn creeping over the horizon, James prepared himself. The three boys would remain under his watch, the footage would be scrutinized again, and the pieces—scattered, missing, and hidden—would slowly begin to reveal a story far more sinister than anyone had imagined.