Chapter 59: The Hammer Fiend Case (Part 28)

In the early hours of December 5 in Dashij村, as the final snow of the season drifted down, the demolished roof beams of Zhang Jianzhong's house lay strewn in disarray across the ruins.

"They're tearing down a house here, they've definitely got money," the short man muttered to himself.

In the courtyard stood a livestock shed, the sound of animals chewing grass ringing clearly through the gathering dusk.

Stepping over the rubble, he slipped into the inner room. A copper valve on the gas stove dripped water, letting out a monotonous ticking sound in the profound silence. As he lifted the white cloth curtain, the soft snoring of a young couple resonated with the ticking of the wall clock.

The banknotes inside the drawer emanated the sharp scent of mothballs, reminding him of the cloth-wrapped bundles his father used to tuck away layer by layer. He found five thousand yuan in the desk drawer, and another sixty thousand yuan in a wardrobe against the west wall near the north.

Moonlight filtered through the broken roof, weaving a mottled net across his hunched back. When the piercing wail of police sirens shattered the dawn's silence, he was already curled up inside a straw stack on the outskirts of the county town, counting the silver bracelets tucked inside his trouser pockets.

The cold metal bit red lines into his palm, like some ancient brand of torture, permanently searing the sins of countless cold nights into his flesh.

Neon lights cast blood-red splotches across the glass doors of the foot-massage parlor. He counted out three crumpled banknotes and pushed them across the counter, river silt still lodged beneath his fingernails. As the woman led him upstairs, the motion-activated light in the stairwell invariably clicked on at the third step.

Once he had money, he would head straight to the city, visiting karaoke bars, foot parlors, and massage spas, ordering the most expensive liquor and indulging in the finest women. Pastime was never the true objective; prostitution was.

He was like a stunted sapling sprouting from barren soil, harboring a deep, innate sense of inferiority around women since childhood, often lacking the courage even to lift his head when encountering a pretty girl.

In these establishments, however, those pretty young women would greet him with smiles, offering him a fleeting sense of a man's lost dignity.

Yet, money was a rare commodity for him. Most of the time, he had to settle for the ten-yuan parlors down by the township. Their rates were cheap, conditions abysmal, featuring moldy mattresses hidden behind plastic bead curtains.

The police invariably appeared after the deed was done, their plain black jackets stained with grease from street food stalls.

"Come with us," they said.

He offered no resistance, docilely following them away.

Water stains coated the tiled floor of the police substation. The iron-barred cell door was rusted, exhaling a scent reminiscent of a fishing boat's anchor chain.

"Do you know why you've been brought here?" a police officer asked.

Feigning ignorance, he replied, "No idea."

"Did you or did you not go get a shampoo just now?" the officer asked bluntly.

"I went," he admitted without hesitation.

"And what did you do after getting your hair washed?"

"I just left after the wash," he lied deliberately.

"Did you hire a prostitute or not?" the officer demanded sternly.

"I really didn't," he protested, putting on an aggrieved expression.

"ID card," the officer commanded.

Reaching into his outer jacket pocket, he pulled out two thousand yuan. "I didn't bring my ID. How about this, I'll leave this cash here as a deposit, and I'll come back to pick it up once I go home and get my card."

As he handed over the money, his thumb pressed against a tear on the edge of a bill, and a young rookie swallowed hard before accepting it. An older officer stood smoking by the window, ash drifting down onto a poster from last year's anti-narcotics campaign.

The officers exchanged knowing smiles. "You'd better behave yourself, or you'll see what's coming to you."

"Yes, yes, I'll definitely be good," he nodded, the five thousand yuan hidden in his jacket lining scraping against his skin.

He knew well enough that once they accepted the bribe, nothing serious would come of it. Throwing him into the iron cell was merely a scare tactic to ensure he wouldn't run around talking about paying fines after his release.

Even so, he maintained an appearance of deep fear. If those five thousand yuan bills were discovered and aroused suspicion, he would be in grave trouble.

Half an hour later, the iron door hinges groaned. Across the street, a steamed bun shop was lifting its lid, a plume of white fog drifting up the steps of the substation.

While urinating in the restroom, he overheard two auxiliary officers splitting his fine. The paper money glowed a pale, cold green under the lights, resembling the shadowless lamp of an autopsy suite.

Before leaving, the veteran officer pulled out his wallet and drew out two bills. "Here's some travel money to get you home. Remember, bring your ID back to settle this matter."

"Right, right," the short man nodded, though internally he scoffed, *You'd have to be a fool to believe that. You didn't even ask for my address, what makes you think I'm coming back?*

He walked along the national highway. Heavy trucks roared past, their headlights sweeping over a wanted poster affixed to a roadside tree, the ink warped and blurred by the rain. In the next township, a massage parlor glowed with pink light, and the proprietress wore a silver bracelet around her wrist just like the ones in his pocket.

Mounted prominently on the front wall of the command center was the operational map for the "10.18" serial murder case. The time and location of each incident were clearly marked, and the corresponding case files were piled neatly on the desks of the leadership.

Photographs of the bureau chiefs from various cities and counties lined the right-hand wall, three of them marked with bold red crosses.

Han Junshan stood before the massive electronic map. Red pins pierced the locations of the crimes, forming a blood-stained sickle stretching from southern Henan to northern Hubei. The ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts, and his sixth cup of strong tea was growing cold.

"Everyone," Han Junshan began, "why are we always half a step behind? Has anyone given this some thought?"

The bureau chiefs maintained a stony silence.

Han Junshan continued, "The reason lies in our poor communication and our failure to establish an efficient, interconnected intelligence network!"

Silence persisted.

"Without a comprehensive overview," Han Junshan pressed on, "mutual support and coordinated operations are impossible."

Han Junshan stubbed out his cigarette. The butt scorched a dark mark onto the glass map, landing precisely on the border of Linchuan County. Outside the window, the searchlights of the provincial highway checkpoint pierced the dense 3:00 AM fog as steel spike roadblocks were being assembled.

"I am no fan of searching for a needle in a haystack, but desperate times call for desperate measures," Han Junshan declared. "We will draw elite forces from every bureau to inspect each crime scene one by one. By filtering and analyzing the traces left behind by the perpetrator at every location—stripping away the false to retain the true—we will strive to unmask the real face of this criminal."

"Li Rui, do you have any thoughts?" Han Junshan asked abruptly.

At that moment, Li Rui was staring intently at the suspect profile board, where the eyes of the composite sketch had been burned through by a cigarette butt, leaving two dark holes.

"Uh..." Li Rui blinked, startled. "No comments."

"You have no comments?" Han Junshan snorted coldly. "Weren't you always against looking for a needle in a haystack?"

Li Rui shook his head. "I'm not against it. Black cat or white cat, any cat that catches mice is a good cat."

Laughter rippled through the room.

"Very well, black cat or white cat, any cat that catches mice is a good cat," Han Junshan said with a satisfied smile. "What we need right now is to rack our brains, brainstorm, and figure out how to catch this killer."

"Xiao Qi," Han Junshan turned to Qi Wei nearby. "Does the tech team have any viable solutions?"

Qi Wei was hammering away at her keyboard, the cursor dancing across the map. The national highway was highlighted in red, and surveillance footage stills from the stormy night flashed repeatedly on the projection screen. The tail lights of a black sedan dragged a comet-like trail through the rain.

"Director Han, we've attempted technological approaches, but the conditions simply aren't ripe," Qi Wei explained. "We strongly suspect this killer doesn't even use a mobile phone. We've checked every cell tower near the crime scenes and cross-referenced every phone number, yet we couldn't find a single suspicious number."

"Does anyone in this day and age still go without a phone?"

Low murmurs broke out among the gathered officers.

"These are the only two photographs we have," Qi Wei said, pointing her laser pointer at a pair of images. "One near a gas station, the other at a karaoke bar. Aside from these, there isn't a single other image."

"Is there any possibility of identifying the suspect through their silhouette in the photos?" asked one of the bureau chiefs.

Qi Wei shook her head. "If artificial intelligence advances another few years, perhaps it might be possible. But as things stand right now, it's out of the question."