Chapter IX (1/2)
Chapter IX Min Ho spend most of afternoon at the office, hovering over Eun Ji’s autopsy and grilling the forensics lab on the evidence that had been collected at the barn.Correction: He spent the morning attempting to get Eun Ji to hurry her autopsy (which they agreed would consist of a careful examination of Ji Hyo’s head wound and her heels – no need for an examination of her internal organs) and crowding Eric, the lab tech scouring the samples from the scene. In both cases he was hardly welcomed.
The visit to CWI had been a failuare. What had I been thinking? His strange discussion with Shin Hye seemed like it had occurred in a different universe. And somehow that bothered him. The fact that he’d taken three hours of his day to drive out there and sit down with a deranged girl who saw ghosts tugged at him like a sharp hook. The trip had left him irritable, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.
To complicate matters, the Bride Killer’s note made it clear that he’d been watching Min Ho. Was still watching him. He found himself second-guessing every glance, every car he passed on the road, every agent. He paced the field office racking his brain for images of a watcher out of place, on the street, in the diner, his building, anywhere.
Be careful who you love.
How did the Bride Killer know him? Or did he? Maybe he’d somehow learned that Min Ho was taking the lead on the case and was trying to preoccupy the Agents. Throw a monkey wrench into the investigative gears.
“Ah Chamna! She’s only been on the table for half an hour,” Eun Ji scolded him as he impatiently hurried her.
“He’s out there, Eun Ji. Right now the killer’s stalking the sixth girl and I need to know if he’s given us more.”
“He has. The note.”
Yes, the note. Krystal was with it.
He nodded at the white body lying faceup on the examination table. “The cut on her forehead.”
“It’ll be the first thing I examine, but I won’t be able to tell you much beyond the likelihood that she hit her head on a counter or dresser.”
“You know that?”
“Ani. it’s conjecture, like much of my work. What’s wrong with you anyway?”
He ignored her question, “Show me.”He walked over to the woman’s head, illuminated by a five-hundred-watt bulb. Her hair lay back off her forehead, and he could see the faint break in makeup foundation along her hairline. Eun Ji had cleaned the area above her temple, exposing a bruise and a sharp gash.
“You can see that the bruise is essentially rectangular, meeting the cut line here.” Her gloved finger delicately traced the wound. “Whatever she hit, or whatever hit her, was squared and flat with an edge sharp enough to split the skin. A countertop or the edge of a desk.”
“An escape attempt. She hit her head on her bed or her dresser.”
The phone on the wall chirped and she picked it up, spoke into it. She nodded, thanked a lab tech, and faced him.
“Dresser,” she said. “They found her hair and blood on the edge of the dresser at the foot of her bed.” She turned to the body, “Aigo! Poor girl. She almost got away.”
“Maybe.” The makeup, all of it, had been applied with a careful, experienced hand. The killer wasn’t just caking on foundation to cover imperfections. He was accentuating his victim’s own beauty with a nearly flawless application. A makeup artist. He dabbed her white cheek with a light touch. Cold.