. . .
Date: January 2001
Location: (redacted)
. . .
“There’s another one?” Pearl was asking as she finishes setting up the table for dinner. We’ve been visiting Wallace’s place since we’ve been staying in town, pretty much just exploring and me acting tour guide, showing off the cool spots I’ve once hang around in with my cousin and childhood friends when we were younger.
In my defense, the two of us deserve to cool down before we get officially hitched. A pre-honeymoon, get-away trip, we’re probably gonna be around till the second day of February.
Or so I hope.
“How many does that make?” I asked.
“Five,” Wallace muttered lowly under his breath, eyes tired, he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well lately as he stared blearily at his empty plate like the secrets of the world can be found there.
“What about suspects?”
He barely hid a flinch.
Pearl gave me a reproachful glare.
…And a well-aimed kick on the shin.
Oh.
…Still nothing, huh?
“How do you guys even know it’s the same person?” Pearl wondered, breaking the awkward silence, “This could be a group of a gang or… or… or even the mafia!”
“A group works too,” I pointed out.
A small smile curled at the edge of Wallace’s lips, “There’s no known gangs here of any sort, Pearl. I’m pretty sure we’ll know if there’s one snooping around here… and well, we’ve pretty much established this to be the work of the same suspect considering the materials used: the chains they used to tie up the victims, the type of blade, the method of killing, to name a few.”
I cleared my throat, “So got any leads, man?”
Wallace grunted, “…We’re working on it.”
I made a soft noise as I sneakily tried to snatch a tasty piece of fried salmon from Pearl’s plate (earning me a quick, another well-aimed kick on the shin courtesy of yours truly), “How long has this been happening anyway?”
“Since New Years’ Day,” Wallace sighed, physically sagging on his chair as he did so. If he doesn’t have a plate in front of him, I think he would have face-planted on the table there and then, “It was awful, man. Everyone’s out there having the time of their lives and then this freaky shit happens out of nowhere. We couldn’t catch a break since. And it’s taking everything we have to keep the tourists from breaking in on mass hysteria…”
Pearl looked disturbed by the idea, “What, like… you mean like the one Val described too? Fishermen found some outsider entangled by their nets?!”
“Nope,” my cousin muttered, “Worse.”
Now, I’m listening.
“Children,” Wallace finally said, the wrinkles on his face becoming even more pronounced, making him look older, “Children were the first to discover the victim when they stumbled upon the first body just lying on the shore because they were about to go for a swim.”
Pearl’s hands flew to her mouth.
“That’s awful…” she murmured, aghast.
“First murder spree in town too,” I remarked.
“Nah,” Wallace groused, now looking visibly irritated, “Chief said something like this had happened way back in the late 90s, first day of the year too, seven people dead. No suspect found till the case went cold. I’m supposed to be looking on it but not really feeling up looking through some dusty records.”
I tried not to smile.
Wallace has always been more of a brawns-type-of-guy, he likes action, moving and busting in. And while he’s not stupid, he was never the bookish type of man either.
That was more of my speed.
“So… you think it’s the same guy?” Pearl asked.
“Don’t think so,” I mused, helping myself with a heaving serving of mashed potatoes and salad, “The killer would be like, real old if that’s the case.”
“So… we have a copycat then?”
“Could be,”
For the first time since we saw him, Wallace visibly perked up in his seat, looking almost hopeful, “Are you still planning to write a story about this or something, Val?”
“Hm,” I raised my brows, “Maybe…”
“Well, I can’t really give out the details about the case–confidentiality and all that–but you know… you can look something up like this in the town’s history on the library or something.”
Ah.
I can see where this is going.
Crossing my arms, I leaned back on my chair and gave him a smug, teasing grin, “In short, you are asking me to do one of your little assignments… is that what this is? Hm? Officer Bridger?”
He shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Maybe…”
My grin grew even wider.
“Not until you say please–”
“Of course, Val would be so happy to help you with your work, Wall!” Pearl suddenly chirped up quite loudly before I could even badger the idiot into coming with me, “It’s not like he’s busy. I’m sure he’ll have all the time in the world to do just that!”
Then, my beautiful girl turned to look at me, gray eyes bright and shining so prettily underneath the light as her smile widened, now looking quite a touch as sharp as the point of a kitchen knife.
“…isn’t that right, honey?”
Did I mention she’s also stepping on my foot?
* * * * *
To make things easier for me (or to sweeten the deal even further) Wallace ‘accidentally’ blurted out the names of the five victims just in case I seriously decided to do my own investigation… which I was planning to do.
Or maybe my cousin just wanted me to look into it as well, look for a new angle, and see if they missed something.
The first victim was supposedly a nineteen-year-old hitchhiker or something (whom they have just recently identified as Caleb Reynolds). Second victim was an ex-convict, an old man in his late seventies named Patrick Hale that just moved into town not even a few months ago; third victim was a thirty-two-year-old drug addict named Anne Freed who just got out of the rehabilitation center.

The first three victims somehow ended up on or near the seashore, all of them tied up in chains and gutted like a fish with their intestines still piled up not too far from where their bodies have been found but the cause of death was said to be either drowning or they have bled to death as their bodies have succumbed to their wounds… just like the fourth one, and the only victim I’ve seen personally: Benjamin Hale.
Patrick Hale’s estranged son and only known relative who had decided to come here just to settle his old man’s property.
The police thought they were onto something considering that there was suddenly an established connection with two of the victims; maybe Benjamin had found something about his old man, maybe he knew something…
But, no… when the authorities investigated old man Hale’s house, everything’s squeaky clean. No signs of break-in or any sort of property being stolen or disturbed from the scene.
The most recent murder made everything more baffling–and even more sinister. Because if you think Benjamin Hale’s corpse was a gruesome sight enough then judging by Wallace’s shaky, handwritten report, for once, I’m so glad I didn’t even get see this one for myself.
The most recent victim was a half-American, half-Chinese orphan boy who had just been recently placed under the local orphanage by the authorities since his parents died not even eight months ago in a car accident on the day they moved in.
He had been the sole survivor of the accident and his name was Anthony Lau… the kid was only seven years old, would have turned eight by the end of the month.
Like most of the other victims, his body was found abandoned by the shore, skin littered with shallows cuts–but what made this case even more distressing is the glaring difference that while he hadn’t been drowned or gutted, Anthony Lau’s heart was still nowhere to be found.

Instead, there was nothing but a fist-sized hole carved right out of his chest. And this is a kid …a fucking, actual kid we’re talking about, man.
Talk about sick.
Who the hell does that to a kid?
There’s no pattern in age, ethnicity, or even gender, that’s for sure. The two things these people have in common are: one, they were all considered as outsiders. And two, no immediate family or even relatives will miss or even look for them when they’re gone.
There, I said it.
…Please don’t tell Pearl.
(She’ll definitely hit me for saying that.)
These people are all ‘easy’ pickings… the case will surely grow cold the longer this goes on, the killer didn’t leave anything to identify themselves with, after all.
…just like the 90s case Wallace was talking about.
It sounds like a string of freaky coincidence, or maybe this is just me desperately trying find and fit in puzzle pieces that doesn’t even have a connection… but I’ve long since stopped believing in coincidences.
No.
I know this feeling.
I know I’m definitely holding on to something here. And I swear, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.
* * * * *
The next day, I decided to head early to the library.
Last night, Pearl had said she wanted to come help me with my little assignment but she was still sleeping so soundly even after I’ve finished eating my breakfast and… well, okay, I couldn’t really find it in me to disturb her beauty rest.
So, I quietly decided to leave our hotel room after leaving with a kiss on her cheek and a note where I’ve gone off to.
It was a cloudy, gray morning.
And as thick clouds rolled by, my mind began to wander with them as well... I don’t know, I’ve never seen the first four victims or the most recent one but just one look at Hale Junior’s corpse, the idea of ‘satanic ritual gone wrong’ has never really left my brain even after all this time.
Or maybe I should stop watching horror movies?
It didn’t really help that the others have been dealt in the same way, with the sole exemption of one Anthony Lau, of course… but even that little boy was noted to be found entangled in chains.
So… what of it?
What now?
…my journalistic hunch tells me that we’ve missed something pretty important here, that the answer was just right there all along and somehow, in some way, we have thoroughly missed it.
But I couldn’t help but think (and I’m sure Wallace’s police buddies that it crossed their minds as well) that there’s something more going on around here, that there’s something else other than the tie-em-up-in-chains thing.
The method behind the murders felt like a glaring sign only that we don’t know what we’re looking at, what it even means.
Does it even mean something?
Or maybe the killer’s just a really fucked-up bastard who hid it really well considering no one’s reporting anything or anyone being so suspicious.
No surprise there, if that’s the case.
Because the scariest thing about murderers is that they could act normal, they could be anyone around you.
Now that I think about it, I never mentioned my suspicions to my cousin, but it had seriously crossed my mind more often than I like to think about the possibility of the killer being a local is seriously high.
Only a local could know this place so well, after all.
On my way to the library, I passed by the local church (the hotel wasn’t that far from here anyway, you can go anywhere you want on foot if you’re really feeling up for it. And in my case, just go cross the road and then straight ahead for a few blocks before you turn left to get to the local library, if memory serves me right) …until I noticed a familiar-looking Asian woman standing somewhere to the side, as if waiting for someone.
Her pale skin and domineering height really stuck out like a sore thumb. If not that, then her tasteful looking clothes and noticeably foreign features practically screamed ‘tourist’ here.
Like before, the woman must have noticed me staring because her gaze suddenly snapped down to meet mine.
“Can I help you?” she asked, bluntly.
No accent, I noted.
“Uh, no ma’am, I didn’t mean to be rude it’s just…” I smiled sheepishly as I stopped; embarrassingly enough, I feel like a little kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar, “You’re a tourist, right?”
“Just visiting,” she murmured, looking back at the church before regarding me again, her gaze softening, “Now that I think about it, I have seen you before, yes?”
“Yeah, at Bon Apetit,” I supplied.
“Right, of course,” she chuckled, her entire demeanor now relaxing, “Actually, if it isn’t much to ask… I’m afraid I’m a little lost here.”
“Sure, where do you need to be?”
“Do you happen to know where Mayor Mortimer lives or at least… where his office is? I’m supposed to meet him here but I’m afraid I got the address mixed up.”
“Uh…”
“What? What is it?”
“I’m sorry but the mayor passed away just a while back. His eldest will be replacing him soon enough… but I don’t think anything’s being formalized as of yet.”
Instead of dismay or I don’t know, anything negative at hearing someone you’re supposed to meet up with was dead–an unexpected, pleased grin suddenly crawled its way on the woman’s mouth, her pearly white teeth gleaming too sharply as she canted her head to the side, as if to look at something over the church once more.
“Such a shame…” she hummed.
A chill made its way on my spine.
…Why does that sound like a sneer?
Not wanting to be creeped out by some lady I met on the street, I loudly cleared my throat, “Well… I take it you know him?”
If possible, the grin only widened.
“Very well,”
She didn’t say anything more.
Deciding that this encounter has gone long enough, I hurriedly mumbled some sort of excuse I could no longer recall and went pass her, not looking back till I’ve rounded a corner.
You see, ever since my mom had sent me away from here years ago, I’ve always resented most of the locals for their behavior around outsiders. It was a horrible habit, making them feel more of an outcast than they already must have felt, considering they were new in town… one that I promised myself to never do, especially since I know what it feels like to be alienated in a place that was supposedly home.
And yet–
And yet… here I am, being freaked out by an outsider just because said outsider is seriously creeping the hell out of me.
Talk about hypocrisy.
But even as I hurriedly jogged towards to the library’s entrance, glad that there’s not as many people today, I still couldn’t help but be shaken when I really thought about that weird lady.
Because excuse me what the fuck was that?
It could be just my imagination acting up or maybe just a weird trick of the light but… but that lady… when she turned her head to stare at the church again I was so sure that her eyes had gleamed blue in that moment.
I would have been able to ignore it as a one-time thing when I also realized that my reflection in her eyes were upside down when she had been speaking to me.