The Killer I Know Chapter 3

Today was the day after the killing.

I comforted the frustrated Daniel: "Look on the bright side—no missing person report has been filed yet."

He sat on the couch, his gaze somewhat vacant.

I thought to myself: he really is an idiot. After following this case for over a year, he still didn't have a single clue.

I decided to give him a hint to make things interesting. After all, my opponent was too dumb.

I picked up my water glass and said casually, as if it were an afterthought, "Is there any connection between the victims?"

His expression changed sharply, and he turned to look at me quickly.

"You..."

"What is it?"

He slapped his thigh. "Right! You're a psychologist. Don't serial killers usually have some kind of psychological disorder? Or how would you analyze their psychology?"

He looked at me hopefully, clearly trusting me.

Unfortunately, he was trusting the wrong person.

I said unhurriedly, "Well, you have to analyze each case individually. Everyone's situation is different."

"What about the 1/27 case?"

At least he was asking the right question.

I began dropping my clues.

"Serial killers are rarely crimes of passion, so there must be a connection or common thread between the victims."

His eyes were filled with confusion, and he frowned.

"We've checked everything—social backgrounds, families... basically everything we could check. We've dug up three generations of their ancestors, and there's absolutely no connection."

Of course not, you idiot. Don't you know serial killers are highly intelligent? How could it be that obvious?

I said patiently, "Then... could they have something in common that's... unspeakable?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like in 'Seven'—greed, sloth, those kinds of things."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "It's late. Let's go to bed."

I lay on the left side of the bed, Daniel on the right, and the body was right between us, directly below in the floor compartment.