Po Sir's Police Affairs: The Hunter

As they left Jiangcheng, it started to rain. A fine, dense drizzle pattered against the windshield, blurring their vision. The wipers whirred monotonously, like the ticking of an old clock. Tangyuan lay sprawled in the passenger seat, its head resting on its paws, its eyes half-open. It disliked rainy days; it would become listless and its fur would become damp and cling to its body. Jiang Bo turned the heater up a bit, making the car cozy. His eyes stung, and his neck felt stiff. He had already visited two places, and there were two more to go to. Tongling, to Liu Xiaoqin's house. Wuwei, to Sun Xiaomei's house. And Gao Deming, who had no family, but he still needed to go. The place where he died was near the old pontoon bridge, next to that small house. Jiang Bo was going there to tell him the case was closed. The person who killed him was dead. He could rest in peace.

The car drove for two hours and entered Tongling. The rain lessened, turning into a sticky drizzle that felt cool on the face. Liu Xiaoqin's brother lived in a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city; the building was tall and new, with white tiles on the exterior, which looked hazy in the rain. Jiang Bo parked the car downstairs and turned off the engine. He sat in the driver's seat, not getting out immediately. He looked at that window—sixth floor, the light was on. That man, he had searched for many years, spent a lot of money, and traveled to many places. His mother murmured her daughter's name when she died, and his father did too. He had hated her for many years, thinking she had gone out to work and abandoned them. Now he knew he had wronged her. He had hated the wrong person. He had waited for the truth, waited for the apology. He could let go.

He got out of the car and went upstairs. The elevator was fast, the numbers jumping one by one, from 1 to 2, from 2 to 3. He stood in the elevator, looking at those numbers, his heart filled with indescribable feelings. Those families, those who had waited their whole lives. They had waited. They could let go. But he couldn't let go yet. He had to continue. There were still so many cases, so many names, so many apologies.

He knocked on the door. The man who opened it was thin, with gray hair and glasses. He was wearing an old jacket with worn-out cuffs. He saw Jiang Bo and paused for a moment.

"Officer Jiang? What brings you here? Wasn't the case closed? I received a notification that the murderer has been caught and sentenced to death."

Jiang Bo took a document out of his bag and handed it to him. "The case is closed. The murderer has been caught. He's been sentenced to death. I came to let you know and also to see you."

Tears streamed down the man's face. He didn't take the documents; he just stood there, his shoulders trembling. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I've waited so many years, and it's finally here. I can tell my mom, I can tell my dad. They're waiting for me in heaven. They've waited."

Jiang Bo went inside. The room wasn't large, but it was very clean. On the wall hung a black-and-white photograph of Liu Xiaoqin in her youth—round face, big eyes, and a sweet smile. Next to it was a color photograph of an elderly couple, their hair completely white, sitting in chairs, smiling happily. Those were his parents, now deceased. They had been calling out their daughter's name until their deaths. Jiang Bo stood before the photograph, looking at it for a long time.

"Xiaoqin, the case is closed. The person who killed you is dead. You can rest in peace now. Your brother has been saved. Your parents have been saved too."

The man stood behind him and burst into tears. He cried silently, tears streaming down his face, his shoulders trembling. Jiang Bo turned around and patted him on the shoulder.

"Please accept my condolences. She can rest in peace now. You can let go of this too."

It was almost dark when they left Tongling. The rain intensified, large raindrops pounding against the car roof with a loud patter. Jiang Bo drove onto the highway, heading towards Wuwei. Sun Xiaomei's home was in the countryside. The road narrowed, changing from asphalt to cement, then to dirt. Farmland and reed beds lined both sides of the road; the reeds were withered, yellow, and swaying in the rain. The rain pattered against the reeds, making a rustling sound.

Sun Xiaomei's mother and father were both dead. She had an older brother named Sun Dajun, who farmed in the village. Jiang Bo inquired for a long time before finally finding their house. The village was small, with only a few dozen households, all old-fashioned brick and tile houses. In the rainy night, the houses were dark, like silent graves. Half of the courtyard wall had collapsed, and the yard was overgrown with weeds. The door was wooden, the paint peeling off to reveal the grayish-white wood grain. A dim, yellowish light shone through the cracks in the door.

Jiang Bo knocked on the door. After a long while, the door opened. Sun Dajun stood in the doorway, wearing an old military overcoat, his hair gray, and he was thin. He saw Jiang Bo and paused for a moment.

"Officer Jiang? It's so late, and it's raining. What brings you here?"

Jiang Bo took a document out of his bag and handed it to him. "The case is closed. The murderer has been caught. He's been sentenced to death. I came to let you know."

Tears streamed down Sun Dajun's face. He didn't take the documents; he just stood there, looking at Jiang Bo. "I've waited so many years, and it's finally here. My sister can rest in peace now. My mother can rest in peace now. My father can rest in peace now."

Jiang Bo went inside. The room was dark, with only one incandescent light on. Hanging on the wall was a black-and-white photograph of Sun Xiaomei in her youth—round face, big eyes, and a sweet smile. Next to her was a color photograph of an elderly couple, their hair completely white, sitting in chairs, smiling happily. They were dead. They waited for their daughter to return until their deaths.

Jiang Bo stood in front of the photo for a long time. "Xiao Mei, the case is closed. The person who killed you is dead. You can rest in peace now. Your brother has waited. Your parents have waited too."

Sun Dajun stood behind him and burst into tears. He cried loudly, like a child. He cried for his sister, for his parents, for all those who had waited a lifetime. Jiang Bo turned around and patted him on the shoulder.

"Please accept my condolences. She can rest in peace now. You can let go of this too."

When Jiang Bo emerged from Wuwei, it was already pitch black. The rain was still falling, growing heavier and heavier. Jiang Bo drove back to Jiangcheng. He had to go to one more place. The old pontoon bridge. Gao Deming. He had no family, no one was waiting for him. But he was human too. He was dead, no one looked for him, no one was waiting for him. But someone remembered him. His teacher remembered him, Jiang Bo remembered him. He was going to tell him that the case was closed. The person who killed you is dead. You can rest in peace.

The car drove into the old pontoon bridge. In the rainy night, the ruins resembled a forgotten battlefield. The bulldozers were still there, rusted and gleaming like a giant skeleton in the rain. The weeds lay flat on the ground, battered by the rain, as if they had wept. The door of the small house was still open, the light still on. But no one was inside. The gentleman was gone, Dong Zhenhua was gone, Sun Jianguo was gone, Zhang Jianjun was gone, Chen Weiguo was gone too. They were all gone. But that light still shone. Like a star that refused to go out, like an eye that refused to close.

Jiang Bo parked the car in front of the ruins and turned off the engine. He sat in the driver's seat, not getting out immediately. Tang Yuan also sat, looking out the window. He opened the car door and got out. The rain poured down on him, icy cold. He walked to the place where Gao Deming disappeared and stood by the river. The river flowed in the rain, dark and indistinct, making it impossible to see anything.

"Gao Deming, the case is closed. The person who killed you is dead. You can rest in peace. Although you were a scoundrel, foul-mouthed, and prone to boasting and exaggeration, you weren't well-liked. But you were still a human being. Now that you're dead, no one will look for you, no one will wait for you. But some people will remember you. The sir remembers you, and I remember you. You can rest in peace."

The wind blew in, carrying the fishy smell of the river. Rain lashed the surface, splashing up countless droplets. No one answered. Only the sound of the river, rushing and gurgling, sounded like someone talking.

He turned and walked back to the car. Tangyuan shook its fur, splashing water all over his face. He wiped his face, started the engine, and drove off the old pontoon bridge. In the rearview mirror, the small house grew farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, but it was still there. The light was still on. He drove onto the Yangtze River Bridge and looked at the river. The river was pitch black in the rainy night, and he couldn't see anything. But he knew that those names, those apologies, were all in his heart.

The phone rang. It was Liu Tong calling. His voice was hurried, as if he were running, or chasing something.

"Police officer, something's happened at Mirror Lake Park. Another person has died. A night jogger. Same method as before. The body was found in the pavilion in the middle of the lake. Hands clasped over the chest, same posture. The pressure marks on the neck are the same too. The killer is imitating. Or rather, he's continuing. Please come back soon."

Jiang Bo clenched his fist. "I'll be right back."

He stubbed out his cigarette and started the engine. The car sped onto the highway, heading towards Jiangcheng. The rain poured down harder, everything was a white blur, and he couldn't see anything. But he knew the way. He had always known. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those people standing at the door watching were also in his heart. They were gone, but he was still here. The killer was still here, still killing. He had to find him.

As the car entered Jiangcheng, the rain lessened. He went directly to Jinghu Park. Police tape had been put up, yellow ribbons fluttering in the rain. Several police officers stood outside, holding umbrellas, their expressions serious. Liu Tong was inside; seeing him, she waved. His eyes were red, his lips chapped, and his face was still wet with rain.

"Officer, this way. The body is in the pavilion in the middle of the lake. Su Min has arrived. She said the time of death was between 9 and 10 p.m. The pressure marks on the neck are very deep, just like in the previous case. The killer used a lot of force."

Jiang Bo followed him towards the pavilion in the middle of the lake. Mirror Lake was pitch black in the rainy night, like a bottomless well. The winding bridge was slippery, and the stone path was covered in water. He walked very carefully, step by step. The pavilion was in the middle of the lake, and lights were on inside. A woman, in her thirties, was lying on a stone bench, wearing a pink tracksuit and white running shoes. Her hands were folded over her chest, and her legs were neatly together. Her eyes were closed, and her hair was loose, draped over her shoulders, as if she were asleep. But there were two deep, purplish-black marks on her neck.

Jiang Bo crouched down, looking at the face. Round face, short hair, gentle eyes and brows. He didn't recognize her. Her expression was calm, without fear or pain, as if she were having a sweet dream. He reached out and gently brushed the hair away from her face. Her hair was wet, damp with rain. Her forehead was cool, like ice.

"Have you found out their identity?"

Liu Tong handed over an evidence bag. "The ID card we found in her pocket. Zhao Xiaoyun, 36 years old, a teacher. Her husband said she goes for a run every night, rain or shine. She didn't come home today, so he assumed she went to a friend's house. When she still hadn't returned by midnight, he called the police."

Jiang Bo stood up, gazing at the lake. Raindrops pattered on the surface, creating delicate ripples that spread in concentric circles before disappearing. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Now, another name was added: Zhao Xiaoyun. The killer was still there. He was still killing. He thought the case was closed, that the women jogging at night could finally rest in peace. But they weren't. Another one was dead.

"Same as the previous cases?" he asked.

Su Min stood up and took off her rubber gloves. "Same. Same method, same posture. Even the angle and depth of the indentations are the same. The killer is imitating. Or rather, he's continuing. He's not imitating; he's the same person. In the previous cases, Zhang Jianjun confessed, Chen Weiguo confessed. But this one, they didn't do it. Zhang Jianjun is in detention, Chen Weiguo is in detention. They couldn't possibly be out here killing someone. This is someone else. Someone who knows every detail. Someone who knows how to kill, how to arrange the body, how to avoid surveillance. Who is he?"

Jiang Bo stood by the river, gazing at the lake. Those names, those apologies, were all in his heart. Those who stood watching at the door were also in his heart. They were gone, but the killer remained. He was still killing. He thought the case was closed, thought he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. But no. He had to continue. There were still so many cases, so many names, so many apologies. He wouldn't stand at the door watching. He would go inside.