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墨書 Inktalez
We had not yet arrived at the hospital when we heard Juan Juan's weak voice from behind, saying, "It's no use. Wenlan is already dead. There's no saving her..."
Upon hearing this, my mind buzzed, followed by a blankness that enveloped me. We had opportunities to save Wenlan; we had brushed past Killer twice. Yet even with that, we failed to catch him. This was truly my dereliction of duty, and I felt a deep sense of guilt.
If Wenlan had died a day earlier or even just a few hours ago, my guilt would not be as profound as it was now. If only we had been a few minutes faster, if only I had been more vigilant, Wenlan would still be alive. To have a warm body, still alive moments ago, die right beside you is an utterly despairing experience.
Thinking of this, the sorrow over Wenlan's death, my frustration at my own impotence, and my anger towards Killer surged within me uncontrollably. I slammed my fist against the car door, causing the entire vehicle to shake. The back of my hand immediately turned red and swollen, but the pain in my body was nothing compared to the torment in my heart.
Dezi had already pulled the car over and said, "I will personally catch him."
Juan Juan draped my coat over Wenlan's lifeless body and closed her eyes for three seconds in silent tribute before saying, "Instead of useless venting and irrational anger, shouldn't we focus on something more important? We know what that car looks like..."
Juan Juan was right; the dead were gone. Our priority now was to catch Killer. I immediately called Captain: "Captain, look for a black BMW across the city. I'll send you the license plate number..."
At the same time, Dezi received a phone call. After hanging up, he told us, "The police have arrived at the scene but didn't find us. They called to ask what their mission was. I've arranged for them to stay in that building and take statements from the residents inside. However, it probably won't be very effective..."
"We should go too; we were so focused on saving lives that we didn't have time to thoroughly investigate the crime scene," I said hoarsely as I closed my eyes.
I had encountered various types of killers—those who seemed honest but were forced into murder, those who killed for money whether it was tens of thousands or just a few dollars, those who were mentally ill and unaware of their past crimes, those who harbored deep-seated hatred for the world and killed out of malice, and those whose twisted minds drove them to kill for perverse satisfaction.
But among all these killers, this was the first time I encountered such a murderer. He was calm and rational. His killings were devoid of any particular style; there was no sign of perversion towards his victims or their corpses. He felt neither anger nor resentment. For him, killing might have been as mundane as slaughtering livestock in an abattoir.
A soulless murder sent chills down my spine. He had only one goal: to provoke us and keep us beneath his heel. The people he killed were merely tools or means to an end...
Returning to the crime scene, I instructed several officers from the precinct to send the body to the morgue while waiting for forensic experts from the Police Department to conduct an autopsy. The corpse's skin appeared darkened with saliva pooling at its mouth. Upon closer inspection, there was a faint scent of bitter almonds—indicative of cyanide poisoning. However, determining the exact type would require further examination at the morgue.
Captain called again and said, "We haven't found the vehicle yet, but we've identified the victim from that small workshop where dismemberment occurred. The victim was the owner of that workshop—a fifty-year-old man with no relatives or family. He lived alone in that workshop and had been missing for several days without anyone noticing or reporting it."
"The detailed information about the victim is recorded in the Police Department's files; you can access it through Mary's computer," Captain continued. "I'm going to pursue leads on the vehicle; I'll call you with any updates right away. That's all for now."
I could hear a hint of disappointment in Captain's voice. For so long now, we had either been tracing information about victims or tracking down vehicles used by Killer; this feeling of being disconnected from the core of our investigation was indeed disheartening.
From examining these consecutive victims, it became evident that Killer targeted individuals with simple social connections or none at all. These people could go missing for a month without anyone noticing; even if someone did notice, they likely wouldn't care enough to act. This meant Killer could have already confined his intended victims in one place, waiting to slaughter them one by one.
The first victim went missing four days ago; the second victim had also been missing for several days; Wenlan had been missing for five days now. Killer deliberately disrupted his killing timeline so that even if we identified missing persons, we would struggle to determine when exactly they might die—or even if they would die at all.
Killer has gone to great lengths to confuse us, leaving only the clues he wants us to see, trying to lead us by the nose. From the current situation, it seems that Killer has indeed succeeded; so far, we haven't caught any substantial leads.
Upon reaching the third floor and entering the slightly ajar room, we found it empty as expected. Killer might usually be able to come and go through the walls, but at the last moment, he would not do so. Wenlan had just died; in five days, she needed food and water, yet there was no sign of either in the room. This indicates that Killer must have taken them away, likely in one final drive.
The room was astonishingly clean, and the method of murder was poison—leaving virtually no trace behind. After a thorough search of the room, I found nothing. The furniture and bed were still there, but everything inside them had been emptied out.
I frowned; from this crime scene, it was clear that the lack of items was abnormal.
A police officer approached and said, "There are only four households here, all elderly residents. They hardly leave their homes. When they buy groceries, they just call out from their windows, and the vendors come by to sell their goods. So no one saw any suspects or knew about the murder on the third floor."
"They hardly have any statements; only one family on the second floor mentioned hearing dripping sounds from above," the officer continued. "But no one has lived on this floor for a long time. They don't know what kind of sound it was and hope we can check it out."
The officer shrugged and added, "What can we do? We're just neighborhood officers. We'll go check across the street to see what's going on. It won't take long..."
I nodded in agreement.
Looking at the empty scene, Mary said, "It's cleaner than a blank slate here; it seems we won't find any clues."
I shook my head and addressed everyone: "Don't you think something is missing here? The scene is indeed very bare, but it's an abnormal kind of emptiness. Given Killer's usual style, something feels off about this place."
"Off?" everyone asked.
"Yes." I paced around the room and said, "The bed and furniture are simple wooden pieces with no markings on them. This suggests that these items are not clues at all. But aside from these, there’s nothing left inside. This means one crucial thing is missing—the clue Killer intended for us to find."
I continued, "We found our first victim because of Killer's Human Skin Map letter, which led us to our first victim, Sun Shouwang. When we reached Sun Shouwang's neighborhood, our clue was surveillance footage; then we found a car and subsequently discovered human bones—this was our second clue. If it weren't for that phone call alerting us, we would have continued down this path..."
"We confirmed the identity of the second victim and went to that small workshop," I elaborated along the trail of clues. "Then we discovered writing inside a barrel that led us to Wenlan, bringing us here. So what clues will we find here, and where will they lead us next?"
Dezi suggested, "Could it be that he realized we were onto him and didn't have time to leave any clues before making a quick escape?"
I shook my head again and replied, "The windows all face that way; when we arrived, we came from the opposite direction. Killer wouldn't have seen us coming—this was an unexpected turn for him! But when he drove away, he definitely saw us. His first Human Skin Map letter was addressed to me; he must recognize me!"
"So what could the clue be?" Juan Juan asked.
I shook my head.
At that moment, we heard the police officer who had just left the station shout, "Captain Shao, Captain Shao, something terrible has happened! You need to come quickly."
The officer's voice was frantic, as if he had seen something unimaginable. We hurried outside and saw him leaning against the door frame, trembling all over, as if he had turned into a shaking leaf. I rushed over, pulled him aside, and looked into the room. What I saw left us all in shock.
"Well then," Mary said cautiously, "is this the clue?"
Before us hung a rope. The upper end was tied to the ceiling light, hanging straight down. At the end of the rope was a human head. It belonged to a male, his eyes wide open and mouth agape, with his tongue sticking out.
The wound on his neck was jagged, appearing as if it had been severed with a saw. At this moment, the blood had already congealed, forming a pool beneath the head. It seemed that the ticking sound the elderly man downstairs heard was from the blood dripping onto the floor before it had coagulated.
A dripping bloody head and a large puddle of congealed blood. From below, one could see right through the neck wound, making it all the more horrifying. The room revealed nothing else; only this solitary head remained. We had no idea how long it had been hanging there.
Though the pupils of the head were dilated, it felt as if they were staring directly at us! It seemed to be asking why it took us so long to discover him.
A senior high school student had been kidnapped, along with a leggy school beauty and a busty third-tier celebrity, trapped in an abandoned cabin after mistakenly eating unknown wild fruit, feeling feverish in the middle of the night.
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