Psychocriminalist Chapter 4

On the morning of the 27th, trending topics were full of netizens mocking how the police had been fooled by the killer.

"Told you it was fake. The cops actually believed it."

"Still haven't caught anyone. What are we paying you for?"

"Just let the kids go back to school already. Whose brat is this?"

...

"I heard the serial killer only kills 'bad people.'"

I scrolled through the comments when suddenly a voice came from behind me.

"The era when typing doesn't break the law."

The voice was heavy with resignation.

I turned and hugged Derek's waist. "Oh, they're just keyboard warriors. Ignore them."

Just then, his phone rang.

I heard him say to the person on the other end: "I'll be right there."

"Chloe, I need to go out. Don't wait for me for lunch."

"Okay."

From receiving the call to walking out the door took less than a minute.

Perfect for me.

I pulled the body out from under the floorboards. Looking at the corpse's purple lips, I smiled with satisfaction.

Number seven died from suffocation by plastic wrap.

Last night when we went to sleep, she probably wasn't dead yet.

I gently pressed on the body. It had already stiffened, and the body was completely cold.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"This way of dying must have been unexpected for you," I said to the corpse.

I have a hobby of numbering "them."

The one before me now would be called Number 7. Just that simple.

Fortunately, Number 7 was a slender woman, so this would save me some effort.

I put the body into a blue rectangular storage box, struggling to fit her inside.

I stood up and looked at the box, a smile playing on my lips: "Perfect fit."