CHAPTER 26: "THE COPYCAT"

  Two weeks later, the fourth body appeared. This time, the media picked up the story. The headlines screamed: "VIGILANTE RETURNS? Fourth Gang Member Found Dead in East Delhi."

  Vikram saw it on the morning news as he ate breakfast. Aanya was getting ready for school, her law books spread across the dining table.

  "Papa, isn't that like what you—" She stopped, glancing at Priya.

  "It's not me," Vikram said quickly. "Someone is copying old cases."

  "The news says the killer is targeting the Khanna gang remnants. They're calling him the 'Echo Killer.'" Aanya's eyes were bright with curiosity. "Do you think it's someone who was inspired by your case?"

  "I wasn't inspirational, beta. I was desperate."

  "But you stopped a criminal empire. My law professor mentioned your case as an example of systemic failure forcing extralegal action."

  Vikram felt a knot in his stomach. His story was being taught in law schools. He was a case study. An example.

  After Aanya left for college, Vikram's phone rang. It was Arjun Mehra.

  "Have you seen the news?" "Yes."

  "The Chronicle wants to do a follow-up piece. 'Where is Vikram Sharma now?' That sort of thing. I told them no, but the editor is pushing. With this copycat situation, your name is back in circulation."

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  "I don't want media attention, Arjun."

  "I know. But if we don't control the narrative, someone else will. Let

  me write a piece. Factual. Respectful. It'll show you've moved on, that you're rehabilitated. It might discourage Toofan from coming after you."

  Vikram hesitated. "Will it help or hurt?"

  "Honestly? I don't know. But silence creates a vacuum. And vacuums get filled with speculation."

  "Fine. But nothing about my family. Nothing about where I live." "Agreed."

  That afternoon, Vikram went to his community center. He was teaching a coding class to fifteen teenagers when a young man in the back row caught his attention. He was older than the others, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, with a lean, hungry look.

  After class, the young man approached. "Mr. Sharma, can I talk to

  you?"

  "Of course. What's your name?"

  "Rohit. Rohit Verma." He looked around nervously. "Can we talk somewhere private?"

  They went to a small office at the back of the center. Rohit closed the door.

  "I know who you are," Rohit said. "Not just the teacher here. I know about Khanna. About what you did."

  Vikram's guard went up immediately. "That's public record."

  "I need your help." Rohit's voice cracked. "The Toofan gang... they killed my father. He ran a small electronics shop in Shahdara. He couldn't pay the protection money. They beat him. He died from internal injuries."

  Vikram felt a pang of recognition. Another ordinary person destroyed by predators.

  "I'm sorry for your loss. But you need to go to the police."

  "The police won't do anything! You know that! You knew it when you—" Rohit stopped, his fists clenched. "I want to fight back. Like you did. I want justice."

  "What I did wasn't justice," Vikram said firmly. "It was survival. And it destroyed my life. I lost years in prison. My daughter grew up without me. Don't go down that path."

  "Then what should I do? Just accept it? Let them kill and extort and

  —"

  "You fight them the right way. Evidence. Media exposure. Legal pressure. There are ways."

  Rohit laughed bitterly. "You didn't use those ways."

  "Because I didn't have time. They were at my door. You do have time. Use it wisely."

  Rohit stood up, his face hard. "I thought you'd understand. I thought you'd help."

  "I am helping. I'm telling you not to make my mistakes."

  Rohit walked out without another word. Vikram sat in the empty office, a terrible suspicion growing in his mind.

  Rohit Verma. Young. Angry. Recently bereaved. He fit the profile. Was Rohit the copycat?

  Vikram pulled out his phone and called Singh. "I think I found your Echo Killer."