Preeta had moved into the posh apartment at Stonybrook Village, just a few days ago. The apartment grounds were beautiful with rolling meadows, picnic benches and small ponds and fountains. Preeta’s apartment was west-facing and overlooked dense woods in the distance. Soon, the apartment patio would be her favourite to relax on evenings.
She had come on a special assignment from the software consultancy firm she worked for, in India. Vikram, her colleague had also been deployed for this assignment but he had been unable to get accommodation in the same apartment complex and had chosen the neighbouring complex which was a mile away from Stonybrook Village.
Vikram had a driving permit and he would come by everyday, to collect Preeta, to go to the office and drop her back in the evenings. Given their unfamiliarity and shyness, they did not socialize much after work. After returning to her apartment, Preeta would make tea and settle in a chair in the patio, looking at the woods in the distance. Often, she would drift to sleep in the armchair and wake up with a start, late into the evening after hearing the cry of a lark or an owl. Once, she had leisurely gotten up from the chair and had paused to tie up her hair that had come loose when she got that creepy feeling at the back of her neck as if someone was watching her. She had turned back in fear, gazing at the dense clump of trees, wondering if someone was hidden there and observing her, but it was too dark to notice anything.
She never mentioned the incident to Vikram. The days passed by and their assignment got delayed – which meant that they would have to stay there all of winter. The loneliness and quiet surroundings started taking its toll on Preeta and she often found herself depressed and paranoid.
She had just returned from work and was hurrying up the stone path to her apartment building, when she bumped into that guy. He looked like an insomniac, having dark circles under his eyes and reeking of cigarette smoke. His long, sandy hair looked uncombed and dirty. He had greeted her politely and asked her if she was a new resident. She had been guarded in her response but had spoken with him.
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The encounter was forgotten. It was a cold Saturday morning and Preeta had not set the alarm as it was a holiday. She had been in a deep sleep, tucked under the blanket when she heard the shrill sound of the doorbell. At first, she thought it was in her dreams and slept on, but when it continued ringing, she woke up and looked at the bedside clock. It was six am – early for a winter weekend morning! Still clad in her nightgown, she stumbled to open the door and was shocked to see the sandy-haired man outside.
“Pritah, Are you alright?” he seemed to be genuinely concerned for her. He went on to explain that he had woken up at four am that morning and had noticed a man clad in black with a ski-mask, peering through her bedroom window. She was too horrified to speak and started trembling all over. He came closer and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Pritah! You can let the apartment authority know.”
She did inform the authorities but they said that the building access was only to residents and so she was safe, and no one else had seen the ski-mask man anyways. She was thankful to the sandy-haired man – whose name was Paul and as a token of gratitude, invited him for tea. Friendship grew between them and Paul would often stop by her apartment in the evenings.
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It was then that the punctual awakenings in the middle of the night started. She would find herself waking up from deep sleep, her throat parched and breathing heavy. The bedside clock would show the time as two am. From the bedroom window, she would gaze at the woods, feeling that someone was looking back at her from there through binoculars.
She was making tea one day while Paul, who had stopped by, was drumming his fingers on the table. Finally he got up and went to the living room, to see the photos kept on the corner table. She came out with the tea and asked him if he had seen the man clad in black again. He laughed and told her not to worry. She did not tell him or Vikram about the two am awakenings. It would have seemed absurd.
There was a winter storm warning for the area, that week in late January. As Vikram and Preeta drove back from work, happy that it was a Friday, it started to snow heavily. Preeta offered to make some tea but Vikram declined and they parted, planning to meet on Monday.
By Saturday night-time, the snow was two feet thick on the ground and coming down even more heavily. Preeta turned up the heater and retired to bed early after having some hearty soup and bread. Once again, she found herself wide awake with a dry throat and the clock showed the time as two am. She looked out of the window. The landscape was a startling white all around, with poor visibility. The woods had been hidden behind a trail of mist. It was still snowing and the fresh, powdery snow on the ground glistened in the moonlight. She had a drink of water and after turning down the heater, got back to bed.
She had difficulty sleeping that night, tossing and turning in her bed. Finally, at three am, she drifted off to sleep, a troubled look on her face. The wake-up alarm was not set as it was a weekend.
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Vikram drove over to Preeta’s complex but did not see her waiting in the lobby. There was several feet deep snow everywhere on the grounds and the snow-clearing men had just started working on the sidewalks. Vikram called her on his cell phone but the phone was not answered. Perhaps she was sick and could not go to work that day. He felt a bit worried for her but decided to continue without her, thinking that maybe she wanted to keep it private.
Driving back to his apartment in the evening, he felt strangely unnerved. It would be a good idea to check on her, he thought. He parked the car in her complex and walked over to the apartment building she stayed in. She did not answer after ringing the doorbell several times. Now, he was panicking. Something was wrong with her.
The building authorities were summoned and her apartment was opened. It was deathly quiet in her apartment, dirty dishes cluttered in the sink and some stale coffee in a mug on the counter. A disturbing sight awaited them in the bedroom. Preeta had been smothered to death. There were several bruises on her and some of her bones crushed under sheer pressure. The index finger of her right hand was missing.
The time of her death was estimated as sometime early on Sunday morning. All the windows in the apartment were shut tight. The spare key to her apartment was in place, in the shoebox in the living-room. If someone had come from the woods, it would have been difficult to trace the footsteps as the snowfall on Sunday had covered any marks on the ground. There were no fingerprints anywhere. The killer had been extra-careful about that. It could be someone she knew. Vikram was a likely suspect and he would soon have to go through an ordeal, trying to clear his name.
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Paul sat in his apartment, looking out of the window onto the apartment opposite – her apartment. Gaining her trust had been easy, especially with the ski-mask story to frighten her even more. Had he known about Vikram and that she had a colleague staying close by, he would not have dared to carry out his act. He had been lucky as Preeta had never shared her fears with Vikram as he was a colleague after all.
Stealing the spare key of her apartment had also been easy. While he had gone for tea at her house, he had found out the location of the keys. At a later tea meeting, with an excuse of seeing the photos on the side table, he had taken out the keys from the ceramic ornamental shoe kept on the same table.
He knew that he would never be a suspect. No one knew about his visits to her. Shy girls like Preeta would never mention this to anyone. He had been lucky here as even Vikram did not know anything about the ski-mask man or him. The building authorities knew something about the ski-mask man – when Preeta had complained to them, but she had never told them that it was Paul had told her about it. Paul was not part of this case.
He was contented that he had got souvenirs back – a lock of her jet black hair and a slender finger with brightly painted nail. He would preserve these as his trophies after a long and pleasurable hunt.
