Chapter 5

That evening, the task force held a briefing.

The whiteboard displayed photos of four missing women, with dense timelines and location markers below.

George stood in front of the whiteboard, voice cold and hard: "Current information. Four victims, ages nineteen to twenty-six, all living alone. Disappearances concentrated between 9 and 11 PM. Disappearance locations scattered across four different city districts with no obvious geographic pattern. Crimes committed in surveillance blind spots. No witnesses. No physical evidence."

He paused.

"The only lead is a suspect description and possible hiding place provided by a citizen. But the suspect is already alert. No vehicles appeared at the abandoned factory last night."

Patterson leaned back in his chair, voice gruff. "Is that citizen's lead reliable? Could be some internet sleuth who watches too many crime dramas."

I sat in the corner, head down, pretending to look at my phone.

George's gaze swept over, pausing on me for a moment, then moving on.

"The lead has been preliminarily verified and has some credibility. But it's not enough. We need more."

After the meeting ended, everyone dispersed.

I still sat in the corner, unmoving.

George walked over and placed a photo in front of me.

The photo showed a street with several parked cars along the roadside. The image was blurry.

"This is the only surveillance footage near the abandoned factory. White van. License plate obscured by mud. We can only see the last digit is a 7."

I stared at the photo, heart sinking.

"Tomorrow," George said, "go around the abandoned factory area."

"Didn't you say it's dangerous there?"

"Go during the day. Take Paul." He placed a leash on the desk. "See what the stray animals in that area can tell you."

I picked up the leash and nodded.

The next day was my day off.

Early in the morning, I set out with Paul.

Paul was thrilled, his mind full of: ["Going out! Going out! Not a park but so many new smells! That tree over there—three cats peed on it, one dog peed on it, and a human male peed on it about three days ago."]

I dragged him forward wordlessly.

The abandoned factory was about a kilometer behind the zoo, in an old industrial area. Half the walls had collapsed, weeds growing from cement cracks over six feet tall.

In daylight it didn't look scary, just desolate.

I didn't enter the grounds, just slowly walked along the perimeter road.

Paul's nose was pressed to the ground when he suddenly stopped. His tail stopped wagging.

["Blood. Old blood. Underground. Very deep. And disinfectant smell. Same smell as that suspect's shoe soles in Captain George's office that day."]

My feet felt nailed to the ground.

"Where?" I whispered, though I knew he couldn't understand.

Paul walked a few steps toward the northeast corner of the factory area, then sat down and looked up at me.

This was a drug detection dog's alert posture.

I memorized the location and quickly led Paul away.

Only when we reached the road outside the factory did I dare pull out my phone and message George.

"Northeast corner of factory area. Underground. Paul reacted."

The reply was almost instant: "Received. Don't approach again. Come back."

I led Paul back. Passing a small alley, a three-legged black cat crouched at the entrance.

Seeing Paul, it arched its back and hissed.

Its voice entered my mind, sharp and thin: ["Get lost, dog. This is my territory. That human who drives here at midnight is annoying enough. Now a dog too."]

I stopped.

["That human always brings a big bag. Very heavy, carries it on his shoulder. Has the bag going in, nothing coming out. The smell underground is getting stronger. I don't even dare catch rats over there anymore."]

I crouched down, pretending to tie my shoe, actually frantically memorizing every detail.

Big bag. Carries it in, comes out empty-handed.

The smell underground is getting stronger.

When I stood up, my legs were weak.