I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

Chapter 11: The Third Case (2)

As I arrive at the scene, a sense of unease washes over me. The abandoned field stretches out before me, an eerie stillness hanging in the air. It's a place that seems forgotten, untouched by the bustle of everyday life. The knowledge that something terrible has occurred here only adds to the oppressive atmosphere.

I spot the small cluster of officers gathered around a central point, their faces grim and their voices hushed. As I approach, I catch sight of the black bag lying on the ground, its contents partially spilled out onto the grass. Even from a distance, I can tell that what lies inside is not meant for innocent eyes.

I steel myself and move closer, my heart pounding in my chest. The bag contains what appears to be human remains, chopped and dismembered. The size of the body parts suggests that they belong to a child, a realization that sends a wave of nausea through my body.

As I scan the surroundings, taking in every detail, a group of unfamiliar officers arrives on the scene. They carry themselves with an air of authority, their presence commanding attention. One of them, a man with a sharp gaze and a no-nonsense demeanor, steps forward and introduces himself as Inspector Kim Han from the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit.

"We're here to take over the investigation," he announces, his voice leaving no room for argument. "This case falls under our jurisdiction now."

I feel a surge of protest rising within me. This is Nowon Police Station's case, our responsibility. We were the first on the scene, the ones who have been working tirelessly to find Soo-yeon. But before I can voice my objections, my senior, Detective Kwon, quickly acquiesces to Inspector Kim's demand.

"Of course, Inspector," Kwon says, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and relief. "We'll hand over all the evidence and information we've gathered so far. This seems to be a complicated case, and we don't want to get bogged down in the details."

I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. How can Kwon just give up like that, handing over our investigation to another unit? I want to argue, to fight for our right to see this case through, but the look in Kwon's eyes tells me that it's a lost cause.

Frustrated and helpless, I have no choice but to follow Kwon's lead. I'm not yet an official member of the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit, despite my impending transfer. For now, I'm still bound by the chain of command, forced to watch as the case I've poured my heart and soul into is taken out of my hands.

As the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit takes control of the scene, I can't help but feel a sense of bitterness and resentment. I know that they have the resources and expertise to handle a case of this magnitude, but it doesn't make the pill any easier to swallow.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself as I approach Inspector Kim. Despite the tension in the air and the gravity of the situation, I know that this may be my only chance to make a connection with the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit before my official transfer.

"Inspector Kim," I say, extending my hand in greeting. "I'm Officer Park, from the Nowon Police Station. I wanted to introduce myself and let you know that I'll be joining your unit soon."

Inspector Kim raises an eyebrow, his gaze appraising me with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "Is that so?" he asks, his tone neutral. "What year did you graduate from the Korean National Police University?"

I feel a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. "Actually, sir, I'm not an alumnus of the Korean National Police University."

Inspector Kim's expression shifts, a look of puzzlement crossing his features. "But you just said you're going to join our unit?"

It's then that Inspector Kim's eyes fall on my strap, taking in the insignia that marks me as a low-ranking officer. Realization dawns on his face, and he chuckles, a sound that carries a hint of condescension.

"I see what you mean," he says, his tone bordering on patronizing. "You want to join the unit. Well, good luck, officer. If you try and work hard, there should be an opportunity... eventually."

His words are met with a chorus of laughter from the other inspectors who have gathered around, their amusement at my perceived presumptuousness evident in their smirks and sideways glances.

I feel a hot flush of shame and anger wash over me, but I bite my tongue, refusing to let their dismissive attitudes get the better of me. Instead, I simply nod and offer a polite goodbye before turning to leave the scene.

As I walk away, my mind churns with the realization that this is exactly what Senior Superintendent Choi had warned me about – the elitism and the closed ranks of the Seoul Metropolitan Investigation Unit. They see me as nothing more than a lowly officer, unworthy of their attention or respect.

But rather than letting their attitudes discourage me, I feel a renewed sense of determination burning within me. I may not have the pedigree or the connections that they value so highly, but I have something else – a deep-seated desire to seek justice and a relentless drive to uncover the truth.

As I make my way back to the Nowon Police Station, my mind is reeling from the gruesome scene I just witnessed. The image of Soo-yeon's dismembered body, carelessly stuffed into a black bag and discarded in that abandoned field, is seared into my memory.

Lost in thought, I almost don't notice when Bundy's voice slithers into my consciousness, his tone equal parts intrigued and amused.

"Quite the sight back there, wasn't it?" he muses, his words dripping with a sickening nonchalance. "What did you make of it?"

I take a deep breath, trying to push past the revulsion that threatens to overwhelm me. "It was clear that whoever did this was inexperienced," I say, my voice low and tight. "The way the body parts were cut, the disorganization of it all... it suggests that the killer was in a hurry, maybe even panicking."

Bundy hums in agreement, his presence in my mind like a cold, unwelcome breeze. "You're not wrong," he says, his voice taking on a clinical tone. "An experienced killer, a true artist of death, would have been much more methodical. Clean cuts, precise dismemberment, a focus on efficiency rather than fear."

I shudder at the casual way he discusses such horrors, but I force myself to press on. "The location, too, suggests that the killer is familiar with this area. That abandoned field, it's not a place that an outsider would know about. It's remote, secluded... the perfect place to dispose of a body if you want to buy yourself some time."

Bundy chuckles, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. "Very good. But tell me, is there anything else you noticed? Any detail, no matter how small, that might give us a clue as to who we're dealing with?"

I close my eyes, trying to visualize the scene once more. The black bag, the scattered remains, the eerie stillness of that forgotten field... and then, something clicks.

"There was a mark," I say slowly, my brow furrowed in concentration. "On one of the body parts, I thought I saw something... but I didn't get a clear look."

Bundy's laughter fills my mind, a sound that sends a chill down my spine. "Ah, the mark. Yes, I noticed that too. It's interesting, isn't it? Almost like the shape of the inside of…"

"Inside of what?" I ask.

Bundy chuckles and answers.

"You know, inside of a freezer."