*Chapter 1: The 3 AM Call*
Inspector Faris’s phone vibrated on the wooden desk buried under old case files. 3:07 AM. Only two types of people call at this hour: doctors, or a fresh body.
He picked up. Sergeant Lina’s voice was tight.
“Inspector. Alley 7, Pudu. Female, early 20s. Throat. Get here fast. The media already sniffed it out.”
Faris didn’t ask more. He grabbed his leather jacket, tucked in his old notepad with frayed edges, and left. It had been drizzling since 10 PM. Kuala Lumpur’s roads gleamed like broken mirrors.
Alley 7 wasn’t for tourists. The 24-hour coffee shop closed at 1 AM, leaving only a half-asleep mamak shop. Police had put up yellow tape. Reporters stood in the rain, holding phones like they were recording history.
The body lay on its side. White T-shirt, ripped jeans at the knees. About 22, 23 maybe. Her face was calm, like she’d just dozed off. But her neck… a clean, deep cut. The blood had dried on the concrete. Not much splatter. A sharp knife. Someone who knew what they were doing.
“No ID,” Lina said, handing him an umbrella. “Handbag’s gone. The mamak shop’s CCTV died two days ago.”
Faris crouched. He didn’t like touching the body before forensics arrived. He liked to look first. She was pretty. Long hair, faded red nail polish. On her left wrist was an old scar. A knife cut. Not the first time.
“This isn’t the first time she’s been cut,” Faris muttered.
Dr. Meera, the forensic doctor, arrived with her black bag. “Time of death, between 12:30 and 1:30 AM. Cause of death, exsanguination. Single knife wound. No signs of a struggle.”
“So she knew the killer?” Faris asked.
“Or she didn’t fight back,” Meera replied. “Even in sleep.”
*Chapter 2: Her Name Was Aina*
By 9 AM, the victim’s name was out. Aina Sofea, 23. Final-year student at University of Malaya, Literature major. She rented a room in Chow Kit. Parents were in Ipoh.
Faris met her mother first. Puan Salmah couldn’t stop crying. She pulled out a school photo of Aina. Smart kid, active in debate, never skipped class.
“Aina said she had a part-time job writing articles online,” Puan Salmah said. “But the last two weeks she was strange. Called less. Replied late on WhatsApp.”
Aina’s laptop was in her rented room. Password was simple: Aina1999. Inside were story drafts, lecture notes, and one folder named “Trash”.
In that folder were screenshots of a conversation. Contact name: “Rain”.
*Rain*: You promised to keep quiet.
*Aina*: I can’t. She’s 16 years old.
*Rain*: If you talk, you die first.
Date: 14 days ago.
Faris closed the laptop. “We have a motive.”
*Chapter 3: That Alley Has Stories*
Alley 7, Pudu. 20 years ago, the area was known for a child trafficking ring. Police raided it, the ringleader was shot dead. Case closed. But rumors said someone took over.
Faris called his old informant, Pak Din. 60 years old, sitting at the same coffee shop for 30 years.
“Pak Din. Remember the ‘R’ case 20 years ago?”
Pak Din lit a kretek cigarette, exhaled slowly. “The one who died by the alley? I remember. Girl named Ros. She tried to get out. Didn’t make it.”
“Who took over after?”
Pak Din smiled bitterly. “Someone who never got caught. Name doesn’t matter. What matters is, he likes the rain. Because rain washes away blood.”
Faris wrote it down. Rain. Aina’s contact name.
*Chapter 4: The Digital Trail*
The IT unit traced “Rain’s” number. Prepaid. Registered under a fake name. But the last login IP was from a 24-hour café on Jalan Imbi.
Faris went there at 11 PM. The café was noisy, full of kids playing Mobile Legends. The manager gave him CCTV access.
On screen, Faris saw Aina. She sat in the corner, laptop open. 15 minutes later, a man arrived. Hat, mask, black jacket. He sat for 5 minutes, whispered something, left. Aina went pale. She packed up and left quickly.
The man’s face wasn’t clear. But the way he walked… Faris knew it. The way he put his left hand in his pocket. Like someone with an old wound.
He opened an old file. Case 2018. Kidnapping. Main suspect: Imran Hashim. Ex-military. Released after 2 years due to insufficient evidence.
*Chapter 5: The Meeting*
Faris waited for Imran at his old flat in Sentul. The door opened before he knocked.
“Inspector Faris. Long time,” Imran said. Mid-40s, still fit. Cold eyes.
“Did you kill Aina?”
Imran laughed. “Where’s the evidence?”
“Motive. Aina found out you restarted the old operation. She wanted to expose it in her thesis.”
Imran was quiet. Outside, the rain poured harder.
“Aina was a good kid,” he said finally. “She came to me. Showed me a video. 16-year-old kid, friend’s daughter. I stopped it. But someone else took over. Aina threatened to expose everyone. Including people inside your department.”
Faris felt cold. “So you killed her to protect them?”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Imran said. “But I know who did. They want to frame me.”
*Chapter 6: The Traitor*
Faris went back to the station. He reopened the Ros case from 20 years ago. The investigating officer then: ASP Rizal.
Rizal was now ACP. About to be promoted to Deputy Director.
Faris found Lina. “Check Rizal’s call records from 14 days ago. Prepaid number.”
Lina went pale. “Inspector, this is a serious accusation.”
“If I’m wrong, I’ll resign tomorrow.”
The records came in. 3 calls to Rain’s number. All on the night Aina died.
Faris went to Rizal’s house at 2 AM. No warrant. He went in anyway.
Rizal sat in the living room, drinking whisky. “I was waiting for you, Faris.”
“Why, Rizal? 20 years ago you couldn’t close the Ros case. Now you’re silencing Aina?”
Rizal laughed. “Ros was my daughter. She ran off with the ring. I tried to save her. Failed. Aina? She was going to expose everyone. Minister’s son, tycoons, me. If it all came out, the system collapses. So I did what had to be done.”
He pulled a pistol from the drawer.
“I’m old, Faris. Shoot me, you’re a hero. Don’t shoot, I’ll die tomorrow anyway. Stage 4 cancer.”
*Chapter 7: The Rain Stops*
Faris didn’t shoot. He placed Rizal’s hand gently on the table.
“I don’t need you dead. I need you to talk.”
Rizal confessed. Voice recording on Faris’s phone. Full confession. Names, places, dates.
At 6 AM, simultaneous operations hit 5 locations. 12 people arrested. Including the minister’s son.
Aina’s case closed in 72 hours.
At Aina’s funeral in Ipoh, Faris placed a white flower on the casket. Aina’s mother held his hand.
“Thank you. My daughter can finally rest,” Puan Salmah said.
Faris nodded. Outside, light rain fell. The smell of wet earth rose to the sky.
He remembered what Pak Din said: Rain washes away blood.
But this time, the rain washed Aina’s name clean. So people would remember she wasn’t just a body in Alley 7. She was a girl who tried to save others.
*Epilogue*
3 months later, Faris received an anonymous email. Attachment: Aina’s final story draft. Title: “The Alley That Never Sleeps”.
Last line:
_If I die tomorrow, don’t look for my killer. Look for why I had to die._
Faris saved the draft in the “Trash” folder. This time, the trash wouldn’t be thrown away.
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Thank you for having nice reading..🖤🤍
