by Lei Mi
Tai Wei said nothing as they drove to the crime scene. Fang Mu remained silent as well.
Sure enough, they were seeing each other again because another life had been lost. This made it very difficult for Tai Wei to think of something appropriate to say. And strangest of all was the kid sitting beside him. Tai Wei expected "What happened? Where are we going?", but Fang Wu didn't ask these or any other questions, for that matter. He just stared out the window, not saying a word.
Suddenly, the strange kid opened his mouth. "Isn't this the Brilliant Pearl Residential Area?"
Tai Wei looked around. "Yeah, you're right." All of a sudden he realized that this was where the first murder had taken place.
A few minutes later, he parked his jeep outside Bright Gardens, the worker dorms for the Jiangbin City Machine Plant.
Bright Gardens was built during the eighties. At the time, the Jiangbin City Machine Plant was a large-scale, nationally famous, state-owned company with excellent pay and benefits for its workers. During the days of government-allotted housing, the apartments of Bright Gardens were some of the few seven-story buildings around. But circumstances change with the passage of time. All across the city, huge, modern buildings were springing up one after another, each taller than the last, and today these towering, 20-year-old apartment blocks looked terribly rundown.
The crime had taken place in Unit 3 of Building 2, Apartment 401. The scene was already sealed off when Tai Wei and Fang Mu arrived. After stepping over the police cordon, they hurried up to the fourth floor. All around them police rushed upstairs and down; many shot puzzled looks at the backpack-wearing, bespectacled kid accompanying Tai Wei.
Tai Wei walked inside 401. It was an old-fashioned, one-bedroom apartment, roughly 120-square feet. Several medical examiners and technical personnel were busy inspecting the body, snapping pictures and scouring the crime scene. The place was crowded to capacity. A policeman who had arrived earlier told Tai Wei that the victim, a single woman, had only just rented the apartment. The owner was hurrying to the scene.
The dead woman didn't appear older than 35. She was lying on her back, naked from the waist up, her head pointing south and her feet north. She had been torn open from throat to abdomen with a sharp object. Her ribs and organs were visible.
"How's it looking?" Tai Wei asked, patting one of the medical examiners on the shoulder.
"Cause of death was mechanical asphyxiation. The murder weapon was a nylon cord; some of the investigators already located it. Time of death was no more than two hours ago."
Tai Wei looked at his watch. "In other words, she probably died sometime between two and two-thirty?"
"Correct."
Killing someone in broad daylight—this guy was too savage. Muttering to himself, Tai Wei looked around for Fang Mu, only to discover that he was still standing in the doorway, ashen-faced and staring at the corpse.
"Over here," Tai Wei called out to him.
Fang Mu was trembling like he'd had some terrible fright. He nodded, but still didn't move.
"You scared?" Tai Wei frowned.
Fang Mu looked at Tai Wei, and then he took a deep breath and walked inside.
The medical examiners were closely inspecting the victim's abdominal wound, carefully lifting open her sliced skin and muscle tissue. Fang Mu stared at the wound for a moment and then swept his eyes across the congealed pool of blood on the floor. Suddenly he turned and fled back to the hallway, nearly knocking over a policeman carrying a bag of material evidence. The man angrily swore at him as Fang Mu passed.
Tai Wei hurried after him. He found him in a corner of the hallway, bent over, one arm on the wall for support. He was retching.
Useless, thought Tai Wei, swearing beneath his breath. He told a nearby officer to fetch Fang Mu some water. Then he returned to the crime scene and got back to work.
Although Fang Mu had always known that, sooner or later, he'd be brought to one of the bloodsucker's crime scenes, he never expected to embarrass himself like this. Normally he could look at revolting crime scene photographs while eating lunch and not bat an eye, but walking through this building—with its dark and dirty hallways, stone-faced policemen rushing past, bright yellow security tape, medical examiners with their ice cold tools, the corpse lying in its dark red pool, and the thin scent of blood that filled the air—he couldn't help but tremble with fear. After all, pictures were just pictures. They could never communicate, through sight, touch, and smell, the message: A life has just been lost here. Thinking about this made him shiver, as if some deep part of his memory, which he dared not touch, had just been struck open.
Get a hold of yourself, he thought between retches. Don't let it affect your judgment.
"You all right?" Tai Wei's voice sounded impatiently in his ear.
Fang Mu gasped for breath, one arm braced weakly against the wall. Lifting the half-full water bottle that the officer had just given him, he emptied it in one gulp. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and, with difficulty, managed to say: "There's probably someone else."
"What?" Tai Wei's eyes went wide in surprise.
Ignoring him, Fang Mu walked unsteadily over to Apartment 402 and knelt beside the door. On the floor was a tiny button printed with the image of Mickey Mouse's face. Just now, when Fang Mu had run out into the hallway to throw up, he happened to spot it. He picked up the button and handed it to Tai Wei. Then he walked into 401, bypassed the corpse, and entered the bedroom.
The furnishings were very simple. There was only a bed, a chair, a desk, and an old-fashioned wooden armoire in the corner against the wall. A pile of clothes lay messily on the floor, and on the bed, four large duffel bags—in red, blue, green, and orange checkered, respectively—were filled to bursting. One of them was already open; several blouses were folded neatly beside it. Fang Mu looked at the mess of clothes on the floor, then at the bags on the bed. He turned to face a policeman who was photographing the scene.
"You finished?" Fang Mu asked.
When the man responded that he was, Fang Mu immediately opened the other three bags. Camera dangling from his neck, the policeman hurriedly tried to stop him, but Tai Wei held him back. After quickly rifling through the clothing folded inside the bag, Fang Mu stood up and sped into the kitchen.
In the kitchen, the wooden knife rack beside the gas stove held a fruit knife, a large kitchen knife, and a boning knife—however one space was empty. From the look of things, the missing knife was probably around six inches long, with a fine blade and wooden handle. A midsized kitchen knife. Nearby, a policeman was busy collecting fingerprints from the kitchen.
"Have you found the knife yet?" Fang Mu asked him.
The policeman was momentarily taken aback. He looked Fang Mu over.
"Have you found it or not?" Fang Mu asked impatiently.
The policeman hesitated. "Not yet," he said.
At this point Tai Wei rushed in. He was holding the button. "You said there was someone else. What was that supposed to mean?"
Fang Mu didn't answer, just continued questioning the policeman.
"Have you found a cup or some other container filled with a mixture of blood and another liquid?"
The policeman looked at Tai Wei. "No."
Fang Mu shut his eyes tight and swore beneath his breath. Then he turned to Tai Wei. "There's another victim, probably a child."
"There's someone else, and it's a child?" Tai Wei frowned. "What are you basing this off?"
But by then Fang Mu was already headed for the hallway. "You want me to explain it to you now? This kid's probably still alive! Tell your men to follow me!"
Tai Wei, Fang Mu, and several policemen had already jumped into Tai Wei's jeep and sped to the edge of the residential area when Tai Wei slammed on the brakes.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Taking this area as our center," said Fang Mu, "we make wider and wider circles, looking for a fairly thin, dull-eyed man between twenty-five and thirty, about five-foo
t seven-inches, with long, greasy hair and holding a large checkered duffel bag." He paused for a moment. "He'll probably also be wearing rather heavy clothing."
The policemen stared at each other in disbelief.
Tai Wei considered this for a moment. Then he turned to the men in the back. "You hear that? Keep your eyes peeled for this guy!"
After twice circling Bright Gardens, Tai Wei found himself approaching a crossroad that extended in all directions. Slowing down, he turned to Fang Mu.
"Which way?" he asked.
Fang Mu stared at one of the cross-streets for several seconds before decisively pointing in a direction. "There!"
At that moment the sky suddenly darkened, and big black clouds like blocks of lead rolled in from the horizon, layer upon layer of them, and the faint rumble of thunder could be heard.
It was a newly-built road heading towards the outskirts of the city. Both sides were lined with little fruit stands and low, flat-roofed homes. There were very few pedestrians.
The wind grew stronger and stronger, battering the jeep windshield with sand and stones from the road. Everyone left outside was rushing for shelter, by bike or on foot. A big storm was about to arrive.
The men in the jeep pressed against the windows, closely scanning their surroundings. Tai Wei's palms were slick with sweat; several times they nearly slipped off the steering wheel. Frequently he would glance at his watch. Three hours had already passed since the crime was committed. It begged the question: could the child still be alive?
Tai Wei hadn't noticed that Fang Mu's face was growing increasingly somber.
Minutes later, huge raindrops finally began to fall, and at once countless little potholes opened in the road, spewing white dust. The scene outside the window became a blur. By then no one was even looking anymore; visibility was too low to make out a thing.
No one said a word as the jeep flew down the endless road, the sky so low it seemed about ready to collapse. Angry bolts of lightning frequently tore across the lead-black heavens, and after each dazzling flash, there followed a blast like something had been ripped apart.
"Stop the car!" Fang Mu suddenly yelled.
Tai Wei slammed on the brakes, causing the jeep to slide shakily across the surface of the road. Finally it came to a stop.
Before the jeep had even stopped swaying, Fang Mu had jumped outside and was running back the way they'd come.
The remnants of an old, seemingly long-abandoned factory stood beside the road, its crumbling walls covered in broken tile. Perhaps many people once worked there to the roar of machinery, but now everything was swallowed by waist-high weeds.
Fang Mu's whole body was soon drenched from the heavy rain as he walked to where the drops pattered against the tall grass. He was trembling.
Holding his coat overhead, Tai Wei ran to catch up with Fang Mu. But before he could say anything, he heard Fang Mu call out through clenched teeth: "Here. Search over here!"
Without hesitation, everyone immediately split up and began scouring the thick weeds.
Minutes later, one of the men searching to the west cried out in surprise. Then he yelled, "Over here!"
Everyone looked up. Simultaneously, several pairs of eyes swung in his direction.
He knew what this meant. Swallowing, he spoke with difficulty
"We're too late."
It was a little girl. Her corpse had been stuffed into a cement pipe, her chest and abdomen torn open. An empty bottle of mineral water lay beside the body. Inside were traces of a thick, sticky, red-colored substance. It looked like blood. A large, yellow-checkered cloth duffel bag was soon discovered in the grass nearby, as was a sharp, wood-handled knife.
Telling his men to seal the area, Tai Wei radioed headquarters for backup. By the time everything was set, he felt profoundly exhausted. Opening his jeep door, he saw Fang Mu sitting in the passenger seat. He was soaked from head to toe, water dripping from his hair. His eyes were fixed on the rain-blurred windshield in front of him, the cigarette in his hands burned to a stub.
Tai Wei didn't say a word. Even though he had a bellyful of questions to ask Fang Mu, he just lit a cigarette and slowly organized his thoughts.
"Male," said Fang Mu suddenly, his voice hoarse. "Under thirty, very thin, slovenly, lives nearby. His parents probably worked for a state-owned company, but now they're either dead or don't live with him. He has a serious psychological disorder. For him, blood possesses an extremely special significance."
He took a ferocious puff from his cigarette and then rolled down the window and threw it outside.
"I have two recommendations: First, search the entire city for people who have sought hospital treatment for blood diseases in the past five years. Then within this group, look for someone with the characteristics I just mentioned. Second, search hospital records citywide for people who have received blood transfusions in the past three years, especially those who didn't need it but demanded the transfusion anyway."
Tai Wei jotted this down in his notebook. Then after thinking for a moment, he carefully asked, "How did you know there was a second victim?"
"The button. The woman at the crime scene was around thirty-year-old; she'd never wear a button with a cartoon character printed on it. Also, I couldn't find any clothing that matched the button at the scene."
"That button could easily have been dropped by a previous tenant."
"Impossible," replied Fang Mu, gazing out the window. "There wasn't a speck of dust on it. Not to mention that the victim had just moved in, hadn't even opened her bags, and yet somehow there was a pile of clothes on the floor and no bag to go with them. The kitchen was also missing a knife—most likely the one used by the killer. And even though the victim was cut open, nothing at the crime scene indicated that the killer drank her blood. This showed that he must have found an even more attractive blood source—a second victim—whom he stuffed into a duffel bag and brought with him." He turned toward Tai Wei. "Younger blood." He paused. "What do you think that means?"
Tai Wei was taken aback by the question. "I—I don't know."
Fang Mu did not seem to expect an answer. Lost in thought, he turned to stare at the darkening sky.
Tai Wei thought for a moment before speaking again. "In that case, how'd you know the killer murdered the child here?"
Fang Mu did not immediately reply. At last, word by word, he said, "For him, this was the most suitable place."
CHAPTER
5
Therapy
One week earlier.
It was lunch break and the library corridors were very quiet. A young student carefully ascended the stairs, hand on the railing. He made an effort to calm his breathing.
The corridor appeared endless. The student adjusted his backpack, and then with what seemed a sense of determination, walked quickly over to one of the doors. He glanced both ways. No one was there. He looked up at the placard above the door:
Psychological Consultation Room.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
In the vast, empty corridor, the sound was extremely jarring, and the student couldn't help but shiver. There was no response. He knocked twice more—still nothing. He placed his ear to the door; inside was absolutely silent. The student let out a deep breath, his expression somewhere between relief and disappointment. When he turned to go, the door across the hall suddenly opened and a man stuck his head out.
"Who are you looking for?"
The student was clearly startled. He pointed at the tightly locked door behind him, but couldn't manage a word.
The man walked over and looked at the door. "Looking for Professor Qiao? He's not here." He looked at the student. "Was there something you wanted to discuss with him?"
"N-no."
The man smiled.
"When you have problems you should say them out loud. Keeping them trapped inside will make you sick."
The student looked up at him. His hair was neatly parted and his eyes were kind and fri
endly. When he smiled, the corners of his mouth curled slightly upwards, showing his glistening white teeth.
"I—I sometimes feel afraid."
The man laughed softly. "Everyone feels afraid sometimes. Can you tell me what it is you're afraid of?"
The student looked down, his jaw clenched.
He clearly did not want to speak, and was not about to force himself.
"You can conquer this sort of feeling," said the man. He lightly placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "For example, imagine every dangerous scenario possible, starting with the worst. Do this over and over, and you'll gradually feel at ease in any situation, and will no longer be afraid of what you once feared."
As the student looked up, the man gave him a friendly wink, as if to say, Trust me.
Suddenly the sound of the class bell rang out in the corridor. Startling in surprise, the student said a hurried word of thanks, turned and left.
The case analysis meeting, led by the Director of the Public Security Bureau, had just concluded. At it, Tai Wei had given a detailed report on the state of their preliminary investigations into the most recent forced entry-and-murder case.
In total there were two dead. The first was Yao Xiaoyang, female, 32-year-old, divorced, a teacher at Jiangbin City Teacher's College. When the crime was committed two days prior, she had only recently rented Apartment 401 in Unit 2, Building 3 of the Bright Gardens Residential Area. Based on the state of the crime scene, it seemed that Yao Xiaoyang had just moved in on the day of the murder and was in the process of unpacking her things when she was attacked. Because the lock on her door showed no signs of tampering, the special investigation team briefly considered whether the perpetrator was friendly with the victim. However, a comparison of the fingerprints found at the scene with those of the victim's closest friends eliminated this possibility.
Preliminary analysis: After entering the apartment, the killer struggled with Yao Xiaoyang, finally using a nylon cord left on the living room table (likely used by the victim to tie up her belongings) to strangle her to death. Afterwards, the killer sliced open the victim's chest and abdomen with a knife from the kitchen, his method fundamentally the same as those of the previous murders. What was different, however, was that this time the killer did not drink the victim's blood. The reason for this, police believed, was that it was at this point that the killer discovered the second victim.
