Chapter 113: The Crime Has Truly Been Committed

Another long night of waiting stretched on. By three in the morning, Chen Fan was already yawning. The temperature in the underground garage was dropping steadily. Chen Fan quietly asked me why there wasn’t a single soul in the garage. When we had arrived, dusk had just fallen. Over the course of two days, we had spent more than twenty hours there. Indeed, after dark, no car had entered or left the garage.

I smiled softly and whispered to Chen Fan that I had deliberately chosen this particular residential complex. As time ticked by, just when I thought it would be yet another night of empty waiting, faint footsteps suddenly echoed through the underground garage. Chen Fan and I immediately stood up.

We were positioned very close to the emergency exit. Yet, although we heard footsteps, no figure appeared. The garage lights were still on, and soon, a shadow was cast on the floor—it was a person, but they did not move forward.

Chen Fan drew his gun and prepared to approach, but I placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. I lowered my voice, telling him that if we wanted to catch the culprit, this was not the time for rash actions. The footsteps ceased; the person’s walking was incredibly light. Chen Fan and I, like thieves, crept forward silently.

Peeking cautiously around the corner, I saw exactly what I had expected: Z’s mother was lying on the ground. Chen Fan was shocked when he saw her; if he hadn’t covered his mouth, he might have shouted out. I shook my head, signaling that Z’s mother was not yet harmed.

She lay there alone, with no one else around. Chen Fan, unable to hold back, asked what was going on. Before I could answer, the garage lights suddenly dimmed. Chen Fan tensed, but I nudged him with my elbow, calming him down.

I took the gun from Chen Fan’s hand. I had memorized the spot where Z’s mother lay. Holding the gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other—though the flashlight remained off—I held my breath and listened carefully. Gradually, I distinctly heard footsteps again.

When the time felt right, I snapped on the flashlight. The beam fell on a man clutching a metal Khuman Thong doll, poised to strike Z’s mother on the ground. I couldn’t predict exactly what he would do when the light came on.

I fired sharply in that direction. Years without handling a gun had dulled my reflexes; the handgun’s recoil sent a numb shock through my arm. The shot rang out, and the man screamed in agony, flying about a meter before crashing heavily to the floor. He failed to hit Z’s mother, and the metal doll slipped from his grasp, clinking sharply on the ground.

That doll was made of metal—several heavy blows with it would have left the victim with almost no chance of survival. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Had I hesitated even a moment longer, Z’s mother might not have lived. At that moment, Chen Fan lunged forward, pulling out handcuffs and securing the man lying prone on the floor.

Holding the flashlight, I slowly approached.

The bullet had struck his shoulder, blood pooling everywhere. The man groaned in pain. I fixed my gaze on him and let out a cold smile. “Old wounds haven’t healed, and now new ones. My apologies, Mr. Charlie.”

It was Charlie who lay there.

After cuffing Charlie, Chen Fan immediately checked on Z’s mother. No matter how much he shook her, she wouldn’t wake. In his panic, Chen Fan forgot to check her pulse and anxiously asked me, “Brother Han, what if she’s dead?”

“She won’t die. Call an ambulance, but don’t call the police yet,” I told Chen Fan.

Chen Fan complied at once.

When the ambulance arrived, I had already dragged Charlie aside. After Z’s mother was loaded into the ambulance, Chen Fan came to me, asking what to do with Charlie. Blood still flowed from Charlie’s shoulder, his face twisted in pain. I grabbed him and threw him into the elevator area.

Charlie hit the elevator wall, screaming again. I pressed the button and told Chen Fan it was time to find another person. Chen Fan asked in surprise, “Z is also a culprit?”

I shook my head. “She’s not the Khuman Thong case’s killer.”

Charlie’s face twitched. When the lights came on, Chen Fan saw several police officers collapsed on the sofa. He kicked them a few times, but they did not respond. I told Chen Fan not to worry—they were just knocked out, like Z’s mother. I dropped Charlie to the floor and entered Z’s room.

Z lay on the bed. I lightly tapped her face several times, but she didn’t wake. I fetched a bucket of water from the bathroom and splashed it over her. Only then did she finally stir. She trembled all over, still confused about what was happening. I stared coldly at Z and smiled, “Sleeping so soundly—you’re not afraid I’ll take advantage of you?”

Z crossed her arms and asked if I had done something to her again. Ridiculous.

I sneered, “You really think I’d sleep with you? Sorry, I find you dirty.”

Z’s whole body was trembling. I grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room. She screamed in shock and struggled, but she was no match for me. I pulled her to the living room. Seeing Charlie injured on the floor, she gasped and immediately rushed to his side, asking what was wrong.

Charlie gritted his teeth, his face contorted with pain, unable to speak.

“Don’t worry about him. You should worry about yourself. The truth can’t be hidden forever.” I looked down on them both.

Chen Fan asked me to explain everything. I pointed at the convulsing Charlie. “He’s the killer in the Khuman Thong case. He first killed Wu Qingshan, then Zhou Sheng. Tonight, he was desperate to kill Z’s mother, and Z was his final intended victim.”

Chen Fan was stunned. “But his injury…”

I crouched down beside Charlie. Z was still afraid of me, not yet understanding what was going on. I gripped Charlie’s face and smiled, answering Chen Fan’s question. “It’s a ploy—self-inflicted wounds to mislead the police.”

Charlie, enduring the pain, asked when I had started suspecting him.

“Very early on, I suspected every one of you. But if you want to know when I was certain, it was after you moved to the new place and saw me off,” I replied.

At that time, I told Charlie I had uncovered the strange occurrences in the garage and had set a trap for him to fall into. I told Z I had some clues and would catch the killer if he tried again. But over the next two days, no crimes happened, and the strange phenomena ceased.

According to our previous theory, the eerie events continued after Zhou Sheng’s death because the killer was still preparing to strike. Yet after I spoke to Charlie, the killer went quiet—further arousing my suspicions.

Chen Fan was momentarily stunned. “Then why did he act tonight?”

I stood and sat on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. After a deep drag, I said, “Because he panicked. He feared that his carefully planned deeds would be exposed.”

Chen Fan looked confused. Pointing at Z, he asked if she was the killer or an accomplice. I glanced at Z, who looked nothing like a murderer. Charlie had essentially confessed. Terrified, Z collapsed to the floor, backing away deliberately to keep distance from Charlie.

Chen Fan shook his head. “She doesn’t seem like the killer; otherwise, she wouldn’t be so afraid of him.”

I dropped my cigarette and crushed it underfoot.

“That’s right, she’s not the killer in the Khuman Thong case,” I said.

My answer only deepened Chen Fan’s confusion. He asked why I treated Z this way if she wasn’t the culprit. My gaze swept over Z’s body—shivering, soaked, and vulnerable in the cold.

“She’s not the killer, but she will still end up in prison.”