The Fugitive

 

After the crash, he vanished. Some say he disappeared into the wild unknowns of the Amazon Rainforest. Crazier theories suggest that he moved to some place in Africa. Others, the more optimistic ones, say that he’s probably dead. But the one thing everyone knows - they never found his body after the crash.

The Chief Inspector sat down at his table at work and told himself the same thing again and again, ‘They never found his body.’ The others had given up, assuming that he was dead. But the Chief Inspector knew better. He had spent the last two years tracking this man down. He was dangerous. He could kill. He would kill.

A few kilometers away from the Chief Inspector’s office, the very fugitive he was musing about, had started making preparations for tonight. He had been planning for ages, nothing could go wrong.

Meanwhile, the Chief Inspector had reached home. It was just a kilometers walk from the office and most of it was very scenic. Despite the beautiful view, there was something nagging at the back of his mind. He was afraid, afraid of the fugitive, afraid that he might try and find him, afraid for his life.

And most of all, he was afraid that a ten-year long secret might come out. Something from the past. And things like these, they’re better left in the past.

The inspector turned to the only thing that would distract him – music. People would be shocked if they knew that such a huge man like him could play the piano so beautifully. He sat down at the piano seat and played a long, sad song. The quietness of the apartment intensified the sadness in the notes.

Just as he finished, a loud applause cut through the silence. He turned back and saw a man standing there.

“Y-You” he stuttered, cursing himself for saying something so stupid. Of course, it was him. Like he’d just forget that face.

He thought quickly. He had no weapons with him. The nearest gun was in his backpack which was in the other room. No way he could reach it in time. He had nothing to defend himself. A quick scan told him that the other man didn’t have any weapons either. But he could never be sure.

“Yes, its me.” The man sneered, “10 years, eh? Long time no see. We could’ve been friends you know” He vengefully eyed the inspector like how a predator would eye its prey, “If you hadn’t arrested me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“You did! I know you did! You were the one who killed her.” The Inspector frantically clawed at the piano table and tried to look brave.

“You know it wasn’t me.” He banged his hand down on the table, causing the Inspector to jump back in fear.

“All you needed was respect, wasn’t it? You took up the biggest case you had and tried your best to find the murderer. But you couldn’t. So, you decided to frame someone. Just to get a promotion, just to get some respect.”

The Inspector stood numb, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. He knew that he couldn’t deny it.

Ten years ago, things were different. His debts were piling up, his friends had slowly stopped talking to him, he had no money to help his ailing mother, his wife had run away, his life was in ruins. He needed the money. He needed the promotion. So, he decided to pretend to crack a case by framing one of the suspects. After all, he had thought, he did need the money.

But little did he know that, his one action had totally turned another person’s life upside down.

The Chief Inspector cowered against the wall as the other man continued his story.

“Did you ever wonder, Inspector” he spat out the word inspector, “what had happened to that young man you arrested? Well, let me tell you now. His parents shunned him. His mother died broken hearted, ashamed at having raised a murderer. His company fired him. His wife took their children, packed her bags and left him. His life was ruined.”

The Inspector sat wide eyed, shocked.

There were tears in the man’s eyes as he said the next words. “You ruined my life. I have nothing left to live for.” And in one swift move, he pulled out a gun from his pocket.

The Chief Inspector shrieked, “No, no p-please don’t k-kill me. I-i have childr-ren.” Tears ran down his face.

“Kill you?” the man looked at him with contempt, “Sir, I’m a lot of things, but not a murderer.”

And with that, he put the gun to his own head and fired a bullet. The gunshot echoed dramatically in the empty hall and the Chief Inspector watched wide eyed as the man reeled and fell. It was a sight he would never forget.