Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 191. The Prey (3)

A wet mark?

Liam pointed to a corner. It was at the edge of the living room carpet. One spot was particularly damp. Being far from the fireplace near the sofa and the carpet being thick, it seemed to have dried less.

Let’s recall for a moment.

Were there tire tracks around the house? Though the ground was muddy from rain, there were no signs of cars passing. If there had been, Liam would have noticed, so the killer must have walked here. British people rarely use umbrellas, so this was likely rainwater. Even Liam and I had run here in the drizzle.

For the carpet to be this wet, the killer must have stood here for a long time. I stood near the mark and stared at the sofa. O’Brien was clearly visible sitting there.

O’Brien said she fell asleep on the sofa.

Rain marks. A carpet soaked with rainwater.

Let’s think from the killer’s perspective. Why watch? Because someone was here? Did they plan to kill O’Brien too? Maybe they left her alive because she couldn’t be a witness. Or perhaps they left her to cast suspicion on her.

At my question, O’Brien thought for a moment, then lay down to demonstrate. Her head pointed away from us. She explained she fell asleep lying at an angle, watching the fireplace flames.

Then the owner of these marks would have had a clear view of O’Brien sleeping. Did they watch for a while to make sure she wouldn’t wake up or wasn’t pretending to sleep?

A chilling thought, but there was some possibility. We had to keep all possibilities open. I remembered my liberal arts professor’s voice saying it was hasty and dangerous to make conclusions based only on visible information while ignoring connections with other information.

“Liam, about interpreting the injuries. I think this case has room for multiple interpretations.”

Liam opened his eyes wide.

“Go on, Jane.”

“First, they ‘intentionally’ damaged the face to make identification difficult. Plus, removing internal organs after death suggests ‘experimental’ motives too.”

“You’re saying it’s a complex perpetrator?”

“Mm-hmm. And somehow they entered a locked house without difficulty, then killed the victim brutally. In Turby’s profiling book, there was an example supporting the hypothesis about criminals and victims knowing each other…”

I’d seen research showing that when criminals know their victims, they often display excessive behavior, pouring out past anger and revenge.

With no signs of forced entry, the killer was likely someone familiar enough that Bradley, who was very shy, would let them in without suspicion. However, this person harbored ill feelings toward Bradley and mutilated him even after death through excessive ‘punishment.’

Listening to my story, Liam spoke:

“Then finding such a person would be our first priority.”

The aged Liam somehow seems to be becoming more like Herschel. Like godfather, like godson?

Anyway, I continued my speculation. Small traces would lead us to the killer.

“They might not have left the village yet. The rain’s getting heavier. Moving at this hour would be noticeable.”

Liam lightly kissed my forehead and gently stroked my cheek.

“Though rain might have erased footprints, I’ll look around the house a bit. We wouldn’t want them coming back.”

“You’re a civilian!”

When I cried out, Liam giggled. How could someone who’d lost their magic and become an ordinary human confidently go check outside where a brutal killer might be lurking? This man really… I frowned at his recklessness. He tried to reassure me:

“Don’t worry. If anything happens, I’ll run straight back here.”

“Promise. Really promise. If you recklessly charge in like before, we won’t even find your bones.”

“I’ll make sure my face is recognizable.”

What kind of horrible joke is this?

I had no idea what to do with this man who casually made such brutal jokes about ensuring his face would be identifiable even in death. But I couldn’t forcibly stop him from checking the surroundings, so I just sighed deeply and nodded. Liam Moore acting like this surely meant he had a ‘hunch.’ To make a definite judgment about the killer.

Before leaving through the door, without turning his head, Liam asked O’Brien:

“By the way, Ms. O’Brien, when did you last put wood in the living room fireplace?”

O’Brien seemed flustered and rolled her eyes as if trying to remember.

“Um… Probably early evening… I don’t remember clearly.”

“…I see.”

Liam said nothing more after that response. I was confused. But before I could express my doubt, Liam disappeared outside.

* * *

After Liam left the house, I thought anxiously for a long while.

The corpse, extent of mutilation, and a body dead for over ten hours. Time of death and rigor mortis…

‘Why did Liam Moore ask about the fireplace?’

Thinking about it, it was strange. The fireplace was unusually warm. If wood had been added in early evening, the embers should have died down by now, making the living room very cold. But when O’Brien woke up, and even when we arrived and the police came, the living room was full of cozy warmth.

I alternated between looking at the sofa and fireplace from near the gradually drying damp mark. Then I approached the fireplace.

Ashes from burned logs were piled high in the fireplace, with more logs still stacked on top. It seemed someone had added new wood to the dying fire.

But who? …The killer? Or Bradley before he died?

What deduction had Liam formed in his mind?

And that tall man we’d witnessed at the hostel. Whether looking for our room or searching for someone awake, that person who kept suspiciously wandering the hostel corridors. What was that about?

“…Jane?”

Perhaps I’d been lost in thought too long, as O’Brien’s anxious gaze briefly turned to me. I silently stared at her before slowly rising.

Hasty deductions aren’t good. But something was off about this case.

Just then, suddenly the police outside became very busy, and we heard cars starting.

Wait, what about O’Brien? I ran outside in surprise.

“Just a minute! You’re leaving like this?”

“Miss, another identical body was found in a nearby house! We need to check that too! We’ll dispatch new officers, so please keep the doors secure until then!”

“What?”

“Don’t open for anyone until we return!”

Damn it. How does this make sense? They’re just doing whatever they want. I wondered if police were allowed to act like this. I called Liam while fuming. His voice came through before it could ring many times.

“Jane.”

“Liam. The police left. They say another body was found.”

“…I know.”

He answered. I asked back in surprise:

“How do you know that?”

Liam was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke:

“…Because I’m at that scene right now.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain when dawn breaks. Until then, lock the doors and don’t let anyone in. Understand? Until I come.”

A strange request.

Soon I heard familiar police voices through the phone. They listened to Liam’s explanation, then sighed and called for backup. After a moment of silence, Liam spoke to me:

“Anyway, Jane. I’ll finish examining this place. You and O’Brien… go to a room without windows and close the door. I think this person might be roaming the village looking for their next target.”

“Call when you arrive. Then I’ll come out.”

“Will do.”

Horrible. I briefly think that the next target could be me or Liam, since we’re poking around trying to identify the killer. These types usually try to eliminate those who investigate, what a situation. For a moment I regret taking this case.

I hope Liam doesn’t encounter the criminal. And that they don’t come this way.

After hanging up, I looked at O’Brien.

“Nicole, is there somewhere in this house that’s hardest for others to enter, the safest place?”