I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

"The weather," I say, my voice tight with tension. "I need to know what the weather was like on the days of the murders."

Kang gives me a puzzled look but obliges, pulling up meteorological data for each date. As we scroll through the information, my suspicion grows stronger with each confirmation.

"There," I point at the screen. "Every single one of these Tuesday murders... it rained that day."

Kang's eyes widen as he sees the pattern emerge. "You're right. But what does that mean?"

I lean back in my chair, the weight of this revelation settling over me. "It means we might be dealing with the same killer. The one my team's been chasing... he strikes on rainy Thursdays. But what if he's not limiting himself to just Thursdays?"

Kang's brow furrows as he processes this information. "You think he's creating two separate patterns? But why? The MOs are completely different."

I nod, understanding his skepticism. "Exactly. That's what makes it so clever. By creating two distinct patterns, he's making us think we're dealing with two different killers. We've been chasing shadows while he continues his real pattern - striking on rainy days, regardless of the day of the week."

As I explain the theory, I can see the realization dawning on Kang's face. The implications are staggering.

"If you're right," Kang says slowly, "we need to completely reassess both investigations. Pool our resources, compare notes..."

I nod, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. "It's just a theory for now, but I think it's worth pursuing. We can't afford to ignore any possibilities in a case this serious."

I return to my desk, my mind racing with the new connections we've potentially uncovered. The soft glow of my desk lamp illuminates the scattered files as I try to piece together this complex puzzle.

Suddenly, a faint sound catches my attention. At first, I think it might be the air conditioning, but as I listen more closely, I realize what it is - raindrops. Heavy rain.

My heart starts pounding as I glance at the calendar on my desk. Thursday. It's a rainy Thursday.

With shaking hands, I reach for my phone and dial Seo's number. He picks up on the second ring.

"Seo, it's me," I say, my voice tense. "We've got a situation. It's raining, and it's Thursday night."

There's a brief pause before Seo responds, his voice grave. "You think he might strike tonight?"

"It fits the pattern," I explain quickly. "We need to be ready. Alert the team, increase patrols in areas similar to previous attack sites. We might have a chance to catch him in the act."

Seo doesn't hesitate. "I'm on it. I'll get everyone on high alert. Good catch."

As I hang up, a feeling of helplessness washes over me. There's nothing more I can do now but wait. The city is vast, and despite our best efforts, we can't be everywhere at once. Our best hope is to react quickly if a call comes in.

I move to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. Somewhere out there, our killer might be preparing to strike. Or maybe he's already chosen his victim, stalking through the rainy streets.

The waiting is excruciating. Every minute feels like an hour. I find myself jumping at every sound, half-expecting it to be the phone ringing with news of another attack.

***

The shrill ring of my phone shatters the tense silence. I snatch it up, my heart pounding.

"We've got a situation," Seo's voice is grim. "Central Seoul. Young woman, multiple stab wounds. She's been rushed to Seoul National University Hospital."

My stomach drops. Despite our preparations, he's struck again.

"It's him, isn't it?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Looks like it," Seo confirms. "I need you to head to the hospital. The rest of the team is going to the crime scene."

"I'm on my way," I reply, already grabbing my coat.

The rain is relentless as I rush to my car. Streets that were bustling just hours ago are now eerily empty, the downpour keeping most people indoors. If only our victim had stayed in too.

As I navigate through the wet streets, my mind races. Will this be like the others? Will she survive? And if she does, will she remember anything that can help us catch this monster?

I pull up to the emergency entrance of Seoul National University Hospital, flashing my badge to the security guard as I rush inside. The ER is a flurry of activity, medical staff moving with urgent purpose.

"Detective," a nurse approaches me. "We were told to expect you. The victim is in surgery now. It's... it's not good."

I nod, trying to keep my emotions in check. "I need to know everything. When she was brought in, her condition, any personal effects she had with her."

The nurse leads me to a quieter corner of the ER, her voice low as she relays the information.

"She was in tremendous pain when they brought her in, but remarkably, she never lost consciousness," the nurse explains, her eyes wide with a mix of concern and admiration for the victim's resilience.

I lean in, eager to hear more. "Did she say anything about the attack?"

The nurse nods, consulting her notes. "She managed to tell us a bit before they took her into surgery. Said she was caught in the downpour and took shelter in a park, under one of those small roofed areas."

My heart races as I listen, knowing these details could be crucial.

"The next thing she remembers is being attacked," the nurse continues. "It happened so fast, she couldn't give many details about the assailant. But she did say that after... after he stabbed her, he just left. Disappeared into the rain."

I clench my fists, imagining the scene. Our killer, melting away into the stormy night, leaving his victim alone and bleeding.

"She was there for a while before a park security guard found her on his rounds," the nurse finishes. "He's the one who called the ambulance."

I nod, processing this information. It's not much, but it's more than we've had before. A park with a sheltered area, a security guard on patrol - these are concrete details we can work with.

"Thank you," I tell the nurse sincerely. "This is helpful. Please, let me know the moment there's any change in her condition or if she's able to speak again."

As the nurse leaves, I pull out my phone to update Seo. And then, a sudden realization hits me like a bolt of lightning.

Something doesn't add up.

"Wait a minute," I mutter to myself, earning a curious glance from a passing nurse.

The attacker just left? Before ensuring the victim was dead? That goes against everything I know about serial killers, including the twisted insights from the voices in my head.

Serial killers typically relish watching their victims die. It's part of their pathology, their twisted gratification. But this attacker... he just stabbed and fled, leaving his victim alive in an empty park.

And then another thought strikes me. In all the previous cases, there was no theft, no sexual assault. Some victims even survived. What is this man's true purpose? What's driving him?

I flag down one of my colleagues who's just arrived at the hospital. "Keep an eye on the victim. If she wakes up or says anything else, call me immediately."

He nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. With one last glance at the bustling ER, I head out into the rain-soaked night.

The drive back to the office is a blur of windshield wipers and street lights reflected in puddles.

Once back at the station, I make a beeline for the file room. The night shift officer gives me a curious look as I rush past, but I don't have time to explain.

I pull out the files of our confirmed victims, spreading them across an empty desk. My hands shake slightly as I flip through the pages, searching for one crucial detail: time of death.

As I read through the coroner's reports, a pattern begins to emerge. My breath catches in my throat.

Victim one: Estimated time of death 3-4 hours after the attack. Victim two: Died en route to the hospital, approximately 2 hours after being stabbed. Victim three: Survived for nearly 5 hours before succumbing to her injuries.

I lean back in my chair, the implications of this discovery washing over me. In each case, the killer didn't stay to watch his victims die. He attacked and fled, leaving them to a slow, lonely death.

This isn't the behavior of a typical serial killer seeking gratification from the act of murder. It's something else entirely.

I grab my phone, quickly dialing Seo's number again. As it rings, I can feel the pieces of the puzzle shifting, forming a new picture.

"Seo," I say as soon as he picks up.

As I'm about to launch into my theory, Seo interrupts me. "Hold that thought. We've got something new. The park guard who found our latest victim? He's given us a statement."