Chapter 48: The Hammer Demon Case (Seventeen)

The neon lights of the KTV looked particularly glaring in the rainy night, and the red and blue police lights reflected on the wet asphalt like a patch of uncoagulated blood.

Lei Chen kicked open the door of the private room, and a pungent smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit him in the face.

The room was in complete disarray. Empty wine bottles and tissues stained with lipstick were scattered across the coffee table, and the microphone lay tilted on the sofa, still emitting a faint current sound.

Li Rui's gaze swept over the mirror on the wall. His reflection was distorted and warped, seeming to overlap with the face of the killer.

"Damn it!" Lei Chen punched the wall, shaking the decorative painting on it crooked.

The dancer in the painting had her skirt fluttering, yet it made Li Rui think of the blood-stained poplar stick in the victim's home—five bloody handprints writhing in the moonlight like five blood-thirsty butterflies.

Wen Rou squatted down, her fingers gently brushing against the alcohol stain on the carpet: "It's still warm. He just left."

There was suppressed anger in her voice, "This bastard, he slipped away again."

Suddenly, Li Rui noticed a corner of red protruding from the gap in the sofa. He reached out and pulled it out, revealing a red silk scarf stained with alcohol. The words "Night Rose" were embroidered on one corner of the scarf, casting an eerie luster under the neon lights.

"What is this..." Wen Rou leaned in to take a closer look, a puzzled expression on her face.

Lei Chen's pupils suddenly contracted, "'Night Rose' is the name of a KTV in Huixian, the kind of shady KTV. This fellow must have patronized that place!"

"While committing murder and robbery, he still dares to seek pleasure!" Li Rui clenched the silk scarf, his knuckles turning white.

He could almost see the killer running wildly in the rain with a smile, the red silk scarf fluttering in the wind, blatantly expressing the joy of escaping alive.

And they, once again, had brushed past the devil.

In some dark corner of the city, a ferocious face emerged. He watched everything around him timidly and angrily.

"I want revenge," like a starving wild dog, he directed his anger toward this beautiful city, "Today, I'm going to have my fill of pleasure!"

At 2:00 AM on November 3rd, he arrived in Deng City. He bought a utility knife at a "Youshi" convenience store, the blade flashing with a cold glint, and also got a flashlight with newly replaced batteries. Tucking these items inside his jacket, feeling their heavy weight, he once again vanished into the night.

At 3:00 AM, this phantom-like figure suddenly appeared in Gulou Town. Liyu Village, situated in the southwest of the town, was shrouded in darkness.

He squatted behind a stack of wheat straw at the village entrance, his gaze burning as he stared at the solitary courtyard in the southwest corner. Three brick-and-tile houses faced south, fronted by a low earthen wall like a curled-up old dog. The cracks in the earthen wall were overgrown with morning glories, their purple trumpets opening and closing silently in the night wind. There were no neighbors around, making it the perfect spot to strike.

Around 4:00 AM, he vaulted over the earthen wall like a civet cat. "Spit," he spat on the ground; as he jumped the wall, his trouser leg caught on brambles, tearing three bloody scratches.

The moonlight was blocked by dark clouds, and the courtyard was pitch black. The main house had a pair of wooden doors, and there must be a latch behind them. He took out the utility knife, inserted the tip into the door gap, and gave it a gentle nudge. The door latch fell with a soft thud.

The door axis emitted a faint creak, exceptionally piercing in the silent night. He tensed up his back in alarm. The door latch turned out to be made of old jujube wood, and the wood shavings scraped off by the blade fell with a rustle, carrying the scent of aged tung oil.

He squeezed sideways through the door, and a wave of perfume drilled into his nostrils. In the dark, he heard the sound of even breathing coming from the bed—it was a woman.

He tiptoed to the bedside, preparing to bring his hammer down. At that moment, moonlight suddenly leaked through a crack in the clouds, illuminating the sleeping woman's face. She was around thirty, her features still retaining the innocence of a young girl.

The familiar face in his memory seemed to be smiling at him. His raised hand hung suspended in mid-air, trembling slightly, the hammer head gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

The woman suddenly woke up with a start, demanding sharply, "Who are you?"

Her voice carried terror and anger. The short man did not answer, but instead began to undress.

The woman reached out to grope for the light switch, but her hand grasped empty air. The short man lowered his voice and said, "If you move, I'll stab you to death!" With that, he grabbed her by the neck.

Terrified, the woman pulled her hand back, tears streaming down her cheeks. The short man released his grip. In the moonlight, a red mark was left on her neck. He pressed down upon her; the woman lay as motionless as a dead fish. In the darkness, there was only heavy panting and suppressed sobbing.

After finishing, the short man felt his way around the room in the dark. He found an iron box in the wardrobe containing five thousand yuan and several bank cards. He stuffed the money into his pocket and tossed the bank cards carelessly onto the floor. Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly noticed a family portrait placed on the bedside table. In the photo, the woman was holding a five- or six-year-old girl, smiling brilliantly.

The short man stared at the photo for a long time, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the hilt of his knife. Finally, he gently put the photo down and turned to vanish into the night.

The next morning, when the woman woke up, the room was in ruins. She sat blankly on the bed, the choke marks still visible on her neck. Sunlight streamed through the window, and when she saw the bank cards and scattered clothes on the ground, she suddenly buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly.

Her crying alerted the neighbors. Soon, police sirens pierced the tranquility of the village. When Li Rui and Wen Rou rushed to the scene, the woman was still sobbing. There were obvious choke marks on her neck, and suspicious stains on the bedsheets.

"It's him." Li Rui stared at the family portrait on the bedside table, his voice hoarse, "He is mocking us."

Wen Rou squatted down and gently brushed her fingers over a bank card on the floor. Suddenly, she noticed a blurred fingerprint on the card, gleaming faintly in the sunlight.

"We have a lead," she said softly, her voice filled with suppressed excitement.

Li Rui walked over to the window, gazing at the distant wheat fields. For fifteen days, they had been hunting this demon, always falling short by just a step.

Fortunately amidst the misfortune, this time he did not resort to murder, and this innocent woman managed to keep her life.

Wen Rou took out her phone and dialed Lei Chen's number: "Lei Chen, have the forensics team come over immediately. There is a fingerprint here."

Hanging up, Wen Rou turned to look at the still-sobbing woman. Sunlight shone on her face, her tear tracks still wet.

"Have you taken a bath since then?" Wen Rou asked as gently as possible to avoid causing further trauma to the victim, "We need to collect biological traces of the suspect from you."

The woman shook her head.

"Did you see that bastard's face?" Wen Rou asked.

The woman sobbed, "No, it was too dark, and I... I didn't dare!"

Wen Rou clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white, and comforted her: "We will definitely catch him!"

The police car drove through the curtain of rain. In the fan-shaped gaps cleared by the wipers, Li Rui's profile flickered between light and shadow. The blue light of the dashboard reflected his tightly furrowed brow, looking like an untieable knot.

"What are you thinking about?" Wen Rou asked.

"Why didn't he resort to murder this time?" Li Rui asked.

Wen Rou shook her head, "Could it be a sudden awakening of conscience?"

"How is that possible?" Li Rui dismissed the thought without a second thought, "He has killed so many people before and never shown mercy."

"Then why this time?" Wen Rou was equally baffled.

"My guess is that this might be related to his motive for committing crimes," Li Rui pondered, "This person is cruel and perverted, and seems to harbor an extreme retaliatory psychology, especially toward women."

"Look at this." He suddenly took out his phone. On the screen was a photo of the crime scene. In the dim halo of the bedside lamp, the family portrait on the bedside table was placed face down, with a faded maple leaf specimen tucked beneath the glass.

Wen Rou's fingers tightened on the steering wheel: "The victim said the killer stared at this family portrait in a daze for a long time."

Outside the car window, a patch of reed marsh swept past, their withered white plumes drooping in the rain. Li Rui recalled that during the crime scene investigation, on the edge of the position of the female protagonist in that family portrait, there was a blurred bloody fingerprint—belonging to the killer.

"The person he was looking at should be that victim," Li Rui's voice mixed with the sound of the rain, "but the photo is from ten years ago. Why would he be interested in a woman from ten years ago?"

On an autumn night ten years ago, the short man had curled up in a drafty old house. Through the gap in the door, he saw the younger sister next door wearing a newly tailored red padded jacket, holding a borrowed English book and reciting softly under the lamplight.

That night, he had a dream in which he was about to marry this beautiful girl.

"He was reminiscing." Li Rui's fingertip grazed the phone screen, dragging an dark red trail of blood across the glass film, "This woman in Gulou Town must bear some resemblance to someone he knew."

Wen Rou slammed on the brakes, the tires letting out a screeching sound on the water-logged road surface: "So the reason he didn't kill this time is because..."

"This is very likely his true motive for committing crimes." Li Rui gazed at the blurred outline of the village in the rain curtain, "His intense hostility toward women suggests he was likely deeply hurt by a woman in the past."