Chapter 3

Three days after the police left, there was no news whatsoever.

The news said the task force was still investigating with full effort, but there had been no breakthrough. A fourth woman had disappeared.

Every day at work I was on edge. While feeding the animals, I nearly poured the monkey food into the crane enclosure.

My supervisor Giovanni yelled at me twice: "Samuelle, where's your head? Make another mistake and don't bother coming back next month."

I apologized with a forced smile, but my mind kept circling back to the man in the baseball cap.

He hadn't returned to the zoo.

On the fourth evening, passing by the back gate after work, I spotted a skeletal orange stray cat crouched by the entrance.

It saw me and meowed, but the voice in its mind made me freeze in my tracks.

["That white van again. It passes down this road every night. There's crying inside. A woman crying. Muffled, like her mouth is covered."]

I crouched down, my heart pounding.

"Which road?" I whispered.

The cat obviously couldn't understand me. But its thoughts continued: ["The dead-end road out back. The van drives to the abandoned factory at the end and stops. Always around midnight. Always stays for about an hour. Then the van leaves and the crying stops."]

Abandoned factory.

I knew that place. Behind the zoo was an old industrial area, abandoned for years, with half the walls collapsed.

I stood up, legs trembling, but my mind was unusually clear.

I pulled out my phone, found the police officer's business card, and called.

"Hello, Officer Clinton? This is Samuelle from the zoo. I have a new lead."

Clinton clearly paused. "What lead?"

"The dead-end road behind the zoo. There's an abandoned factory at the end. Recently, every night around midnight, a white van goes there, stays about an hour, then leaves."

"How do you know this?"

"I get off work late. I've heard the commotion." Another lie.

Clinton was silent for a few seconds. "I've noted it. I'll report it up the chain. Don't go to that place yourself, understand?"

"Understood."

After hanging up, I stood under the streetlight, staring at the dark abandoned factory area in the distance.

Of course I wouldn't go there myself. I'm not suicidal.

But that night I couldn't sleep.

Lying on the hard board bed in my rental room, tossing and turning, my mind filled with everything Charlie had said.

Earthy smell. Rotting smell. Disinfectant. Underground.

The fourth missing girl was only nineteen years old.

The news had shown her photo. Round face, ponytail, two dimples when she smiled.

I closed my eyes, and that face floated in the darkness.

The next morning, before I even reached the zoo, my phone rang with an unknown number.

"Samuelle?" A male voice, deep, with an undeniable authoritative pressure.

"Speaking. Who is this?"

"Criminal Investigation Division. George. Regarding the lead you provided yesterday, I need you to come in."

The Criminal Investigation Division's office building was older than I'd imagined.

The hallways were plastered with wanted posters and anti-fraud flyers. Someone walking past looked at me curiously.

I was led to an office at the end of the third floor. The door plate read "Major Crimes Unit."

Pushing the door open, a man stood facing a whiteboard, his back to me. The whiteboard was covered with photos, maps, and red connecting lines.

He turned around.

Very tall, broad shoulders, wearing a dark gray shirt with sleeves rolled to his forearms.

Deep-set features, prominent brow bone, slightly sunken eye sockets. When his gaze landed on me, it felt like two knives.

"Sit."

He pointed to a chair by the desk, then sat down himself and opened a file folder.

"Samuelle. Twenty-four years old. Local resident. Associate degree. Currently employed as a temporary keeper at the city zoo. Last week, reported spotting a possible serial case suspect at the tiger pavilion. Failed to apprehend on scene. Yesterday, provided a lead about an abandoned factory."

He raised his eyes to look at me. "What's your source?"

"I get off work late. I heard it while passing by."

"From the zoo's back gate to that dead-end road is an 800-meter walk. You take that route after work?"

"It's a shortcut."

"Your rental is in the east district. The zoo is in the west. Taking the back gate is the long way around."

I was stumped.

George closed the file folder, leaned back in his chair, and stared at me.

That gaze made me feel like I'd been stripped naked and thrown under a spotlight.

"Samuelle, I don't have time to dance around. Both leads you provided have value. First, the man at the tiger pavilion—we reviewed surveillance and confirmed he appeared near the zoo before and after all four incidents. Second, the abandoned factory—we sent people to stake it out last night. A white van did appear, but it turned around before entering the area."

He paused.

"This tells us two things. First, your information is accurate. Second, the suspect may have already noticed someone's paying attention. He's cautious."

Cold sweat broke out on my back.

"So I need to know," George's voice dropped half a tone, "exactly how you discovered these things. A temporary zoo worker with no investigation training background, yet you've provided consecutive valid leads. Either you're a genius, or you have an information channel I don't know about."

I sat in that hard chair, palms drenched with sweat.

Tell the truth? Say I can understand what animals are thinking?

He'd think I'm insane.

Don't tell the truth? He's already caught me lying.