I woke up feeling so light and refreshing. I never thought there would be a day that I'd wake up in such good condition. After wearing a knitted sweater over an argyle blazer, I also wore Mr. Caesar's overcoat.
I went to work, got to my desk, and was overwhelmed with the stack of papers on my table.
"Rene, I worked on that overnight. Please check all the lists of painters and artists that work on creepy sexual themes. I also profiled those who painted gore, but they're very old, and some are already dead. The artist theory is quite problematic." Jacob swiveled his chair and bumped into me. "Woah! Why do you smell like that?" He checked my clothes and knew exactly that it wasn't mine.
"I met him last night," I confessed.
He gaped and giggled for me. "So, what's the score between the two of you now?"
Somewhat I didn't mind talking more about him and ended up saying, "I told him I'm not okay with living with him."
"You what?"
I knew that the conversation would just go spiral. So I opened the files on the desk. While doing so, I was reminded of the card and hyssop flower from the city hall. "Walter, how about artworks involving child sacrifice or religious sacrificial rituals?"
I took that picture and showed it to him. I pointed out the positioning of the bones, and I also told him about the card and the flowers left there.
"Do you think a deranged religious man did it?" Jacob asked.
"Not necessarily. Although some criminal psychopaths are inspired by occults and Satanism, I feel that this person is just using religion as an excuse for his crimes. He wants to tell a story, a parable perhaps."
"Rene, I think you think highly of this criminal." He joked. "You see, red hyssop flowers are too common, you know. It just grows anywhere, and it's not that pretty."
"You think my theory is too weak, don't you?"
"Since you don't want to take advantage of your alpha, I paid for the information myself." Jacob then gave me another file. It was an incomplete autopsy report. The initial ID of the victims is as follows; all males, bone structures are conclusively from adolescent omega frame around 12-15-year-olds, and the possible causes of their death are still uncertain.
I trembled while looking at the written report.
"I think it's still a sexually-motivated crime. The missing omega children seven years ago… I'm sorry, Rene, but I think they're the victims. We'll probably never gonna find them alive." Jacob patted my back, but it did not calm me down.
Soon, a colleague handshake Jacob and congratulates him because his article got the green light. I excused myself despite the cold weather and took the files to the rooftop. I was confused about what to believe… I suspected that those kids would be in a dangerous and miserable situation, but I was hopeful I'd get to see them alive.
I remembered the photos of my friends in the orphanage. I wanted to find where they were. I wanted to see them again. I don't know for how long, but my eyes were already swollen from crying when I came back. Jacob hugged me and tried to comfort me. "At least the investigation would finally be reopened after so many years. It's unfortunate, but it is still an opportunity, Rene. We will catch the culprit soon."
I went out to find more info by myself. I went back to the city hall and saw more flowers and letters. There were many people compared yesterday, and they were holding a mass vigil for the souls of the victims. It made me feel sick thinking the bastard who did it is lurking somewhere and watching everyone desperately looking for him.
Somehow, I wonder, what if I remember what happened to me when I was young? What could have happened? Will he have the opportunity to kill these poor kids? How many did he kill among all the missing ones? And will he strike again in the future?
I asked to meet Mr. Caesar to inquire about the case out of desperation. Surprisingly, even though they were swamped and crowded, he still met with me. He took me out for lunch and ensured we had enough privacy. We ate a chicken sandwich by the riverbank. It was simple but gave me a little peace.
"Mr. Caesar, you probably already know that I'm an investigative journalist. Will it be okay with you if I ask for some information about the case you're working on?" I shamelessly asked,
He did not answer for a while, and then he replied, "It depends on the question, Mr. Russien."
"Have you identified when did those children die?"
"Hm." He nodded. "Two of them died around eight years ago, and the rest died around ten to fifteen years ago. Is that all?"
He answered them calmly.
"Have you read my articles?" I brazenly asked, hoping that he'd lend a hand in my investigation.
"I did."
His answer was bland. I finally understood what others feel whenever they talk with me. I wanted more details, but I did not go further on that topic.
"Mr. Russien," He suddenly called my name. I turned and looked at him right after calling me. He said, "You're working on that case because you want to find them, right?"
He usually has a poker face, and while talking to me, he looked like he could see right through me despite having no change in his usual expression. His maturity draws me to trust him as a confidant. I made a sound of affirmation and bowed my face to hide for a while.
"There are many reasons for disappearances. One, they might have wanted to change their identity and lead a new life. Two, they might have wanted to run away from things or their circumstances. And three, something bad might have happened to them. The probability is not limited to getting killed by a murderer. So, if you're worried, think about the odds that some of them might be living a good life somewhere far away," He kindly advised.
"Who do you think would kill them and display them like that?" I asked. "That person made it look like it's a work of art. He glorified and perceived those deaths to be beautiful. How can he do that?"
"Do you want me to give you books and learning references about the psychology of criminals?"
It somehow made me laugh for looking so sincere. "I've read a few before, but I wouldn't mind learning more."
"I'll go to your place later to give them to you."
With that, I left and visited Dr. Mendez. The hospital is running smoothly like it used to. Their research also resumed, and there have been some modifications to their drug.
"Oh! By the way, we're going to a protest tomorrow to ask for the reopening of the missing cases. Do you want to come with us?" Dr. Mendez gave me more macaroons and cupcakes.
He shaved his beard and cut his hair short. It felt like I was talking to someone I didn't know.
"I don't know," I responded.
"Do you want to have a check-up?"
"I have scheduled check-ups in another hospital." It's not like I don't trust his hospital, but I do not trust this quack. "Can you introduce me to the family of the victims nearby?"
He quickly changed his coat and took me to a rundown apartment near the red light district. On the way, fights among families inside overlap the chaotic sound of traffic. Until we reached a room plastered with mails of utility bills. Dr. Mendez knocked and said that it was him.
The door was then opened by a teenage girl wearing thick make-up, yet bruises are still visible. She let us inside and apologized for the mess. There was no heater inside, so we couldn't take off our coats.
"Where's your mom?" Dr. Mendez casually asked.
"She's in the city hall. Earlier, she read in the newspaper that one of those skeletons there might be my brother." She sat by the adjacent sofa and asked, "So, what brings you here with a chick, doc?"
"I'm not his chick." I clarified.
"Yes, you are." The quack joked.
"Don't be delusional. I'll never be your chick."
"Really?"
I stopped talking to the quack and introduced myself to the young lady. "I'm Russien Rene." I also gave her my business card.
"You work for that newspaper." She then crumpled the paper and put it away in her pocket. "I'm Kaye Langdon. What do you want to know?"
"Can you tell me more about your brother?" I asked. I knew that she must not want to recall the bad memories. So, I vaguely asked anything she wanted to say about his brother.
"He's dead." She took a deep breath. "Whether you believe it or not, he's dead. I see his ghost every time I go to bed. But my mum wouldn't believe me, and now she's being a drama queen. Is that all you want to ask?"
"I'm sorry about that." Dr. Mendez apologized on my behalf.
"When he disappeared, did you notice something off? Or someone following or checking him out?"
She glared at me and then went to her room. She came back with pieces of drawings in an old notebook. She then said, "My brother drew all that."
The doodle was a typical child's drawing of a stick man with thin and long limbs, and the head had a smiley face. "That stick man took him. That monster, that fucking monster took him. It also follows me around. So, are you going to help me kill that bastard? Because I'm telling you now, you can't!"
She was becoming more emotional. Dr. Mendez talked to her and gave her a placebo drug to calm her down. I took the notebook with me when we left. On the way, Dr. Mendez explained that the girl had suffered from episodic schizophrenia. Therefore, we cannot trust everything she said.
However, as someone frequently haunted by my monster in my sleep, why wouldn't I give her the benefit of the doubt? I checked the drawings one by one when I got home. Oddly, the positions of the stickman resemble most of the skeletons displayed in the city hall. Kaye said that his brother drew this, but is that true?
Since then, I have had my first person of interest: Kaye Langdon.
She's only a minor, and it's hard to imagine her involvement in this case. Is she the main perpetrator? Or a key witness I have been desperately looking for all these years?