“Organ harvesting?” I asked.
This time, he didn’t deny it. He placed his glass on the table with a muted thud.
“Based on the current investigation, there’s no evidence linking you to the victim. The perpetrator might have chosen their target at random. Don’t let this consume you. It’s over now, understand?”
He paused, his tone softening slightly. “If anything comes up, call me. My phone’s on 24/7.”
His words were far from tender, yet they had a grounding effect, more reassuring than any psychologist’s advice.
Just as he finished, someone called him away. A young female officer stepped in to continue my statement. The oppressive atmosphere lifted instantly.
“Don’t be nervous,” she said with a kind smile. “Officer Bruce used to be a criminal investigator. He looks at everyone like they’re a suspect.”
1/2
Chapter 6
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Despite her lighthearted tone, the session was fruitless. I couldn’t recall the attacker’s face; fear had clouded my memory. All I could do was provide Wayne’s phone number
But the number was already deactivated.
By then, those people had vanished completely, disappearing into the crowd. They could’ve become street vendors selling pancakes or teachers at a kindergarten. By dawn, they’d slipped back into the anonymity of the city, like ghosts.
I later asked the police whether Wayne, during his stint as a security guard, had learned I lived alone and selected me as an easy target.
“That’s likely how it happened,” they told me.
But when my physical examination report arrived, I learned the truth they’d been keeping from me all along.
Even before I moved into this neighborhood, I had already been marked.
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