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

Chapter 127: Connecting Dots (2)

I'm driving back to the station, feeling something doesn't feel right. I glance in the rearview mirror and notice a black sedan a few cars behind me. It could be nothing, but my instincts are screaming otherwise.

I make a sudden turn down a side street. The black sedan follows. My heart rate picks up. I take another turn, then another. Each time, the sedan remains steadfastly behind me.

"Alright," I mutter to myself, "let's see what you're up to."

I accelerate, heading towards the outskirts of the city where the roads are less crowded. The sedan keeps pace, no longer trying to hide its pursuit. As the buildings thin out and we reach a more isolated area, I abruptly pull over to the side of the road.

The black sedan stops about twenty meters behind me. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, the doors open.

Four men step out, all dressed in black, their faces obscured by caps and masks. They move with purpose, spreading out as they approach my car.

I get out, my hand hovering near my weapon. "Stop right there," I call out, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm a police officer. Identify yourselves."

They don't respond. They don't even hesitate. In an instant, they're on me.

The first punch catches me in the jaw, snapping my head back. I stumble, trying to regain my footing, but another attacker sweeps my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, the air rushing out of my lungs.

I manage to block the next punch aimed at my face, but a kick to my ribs leaves me gasping. I lash out, catching one of the attackers in the knee. He grunts in pain, but the others redouble their efforts.

Fists and feet rain down on me. I try to protect my head, but it leaves my body exposed. Each impact sends shockwaves of pain through me. I can taste blood in my mouth.

I make one last desperate attempt to fight back, lunging at the nearest attacker. For a moment, I think I might break free. But then something hard – a baton, maybe – connects with the back of my head.

The world spins, then starts to fade. As consciousness slips away, I hear one of the attackers speak for the first time.

"That's enough. He got the message."

Then darkness takes me, and I know nothing more.

I become aware of a steady beeping sound first, then the sterile smell of disinfectant. Slowly, I open my eyes, wincing at the bright fluorescent lights above. As my vision clears, I see Han sitting in a chair beside my bed, his face etched with concern.

"You're awake," Han says, relief evident in his voice. He turns to the nurse checking my vitals. "Could you give us a moment, please?"

The nurse nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

I try to sit up, but a sharp pain in my ribs forces me back down. "Han," I croak, my throat dry, "what happened?"

Han leans forward, his voice low. "You were attacked. Found unconscious by the side of the road. Do you remember anything?"

The memories come flooding back - the car chase, the four men in black. I nod slowly, wincing at the movement. "Four men. They followed me, then attacked. I couldn't..."

"It's okay," Han interrupts gently. "We know. The police are still looking for them, but so far, no leads."

I take a deep breath, ignoring the pain in my ribs. "Han, I need to tell you what I found. The church, the prison, there's a connection-"

Han holds up a hand, stopping me. He leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Listen to me carefully. It might be better if you stop what you're doing. At least for now."

I frown, confusion and a hint of suspicion creeping in. "Stop what, exactly?"

Han's eyes meet mine, his gaze intense. "Looking into Choi. Into all of this."

For a moment, I'm speechless. I search Han's face, looking for any sign that he's not serious. But his expression is grim, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and... is that fear?

"Han," I say slowly, "are you saying... do you think this attack was related to Choi?"

Han doesn't answer immediately. He glances towards the door, then back at me. "I'm saying that you're digging into something big. Something dangerous. And there are people who don't want these questions asked."

I feel a chill run down my spine, not just from Han's words, but from the implication behind them. If Han suspects Choi's involvement, how deep does this go?

"I can't stop," I say, my voice stronger now despite the pain. "Han, you don't understand. There's a connection between the church, the prison, and Lee Chunsik. I'm close to figuring it out, I know it."

"And it almost got you killed," Han hisses, frustration evident in his voice.

I shake my head, wincing at the movement. "It doesn't matter. Lee's trial is progressing fast. If he's convicted, if he gets life in prison, it'll be nearly impossible to reopen the case. I'm running out of time."

Han leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "You're not listening to me. This isn't just about solving a case anymore. Your life is in danger."

Stay updated through m-v l|-NovelBin.net

"My life has been in danger since the day my parents were murdered," I retort, a surge of emotion giving strength to my words. "I can't back down now, Han. Not when I'm this close."

Han studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighs. "I can't stop you, can I?"

I manage a small smile. "You know me better than that."

Han sinks back into his chair, rubbing his temples. After a moment, he looks up at me, his expression a mix of resignation and determination. "Alright, tell me what you've figured out so far. What do I need to know?"

I take a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain in my ribs. "It's all connected, Han. The church where Choi grew up, it's deeply involved with the prison where Lee was held. They provide volunteers, resources, even funding. And Lee, he had this impossible ability to smuggle things in and out. I think the church might be the key to understanding how."

Han listens intently, his brow furrowing. "And you want to look into the church next?"

I nod. "I think it's our best lead. There's something there, I can feel it."

Han considers this for a moment, then asks, "What about Tak? Can we trust him? How much can we rely on him going forward?"

I think back to my interactions with Tak, his willingness to help, his apparent ignorance of the deeper connections. "I think we can trust him. He seemed genuinely unaware of any larger conspiracy. If anything, he might be an unwitting part of it all."

Han nods slowly. "Tak's a good man. I've known him for years. If you think we can trust him,then I agree."

"Actually," I say, sitting up a bit straighter despite the discomfort, "I was hoping we could get more help from Tak. He has access and information we might need. Do you think you could arrange that?"

Han considers this for a moment, then nods. "I can make it happen. But this time, we do it as discreetly as possible. No official requests, no paper trail. I'll reach out to Tak personally, keep it off the books."

Relief washes over me. Having Han's support, and potentially Tak's as well, feels like a weight lifted off my shoulders. "Thank you, Han. Really. I don't know what I'd do without your help."

As evening falls, Han stands to leave. "Get some rest," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll start working on this tomorrow. You need to recover your strength."

Han gives me one last concerned look before stepping out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The hospital quiets as night settles in. The rhythmic beeping of machines and distant footsteps of night staff are the only sounds breaking the silence. Despite my exhaustion, sleep eludes me. My mind whirls with everything I've learned, trying to connect the dots, to see the bigger picture.

The church, the prison, Choi, Lee - how do they all fit together? And who are the shadowy figures pulling the strings? Questions chase each other around my head, keeping me wide awake despite my body's protests.

Suddenly, I hear a soft creak - the sound of the door opening. A sliver of light from the corridor spills into the room. Instinctively, I close my eyes, feigning sleep. Through barely-open lids, I watch as a figure in a nurse's uniform enters.

At first, I feel relief wash over me. Just a routine check, I think. Nothing to worry about.

But as the figure approaches my bed, something feels off. Their footsteps are too hesitant, lacking the confident stride of an experienced nurse. I risk opening my eyes a fraction more.

That's when I see it. Beneath the hem of the nurse's uniform, I catch a glimpse of clothing that doesn't belong - jeans and sneakers, completely out of place in a hospital setting. The uniform itself sits awkwardly, as if hastily thrown on over regular clothes.

My heart rate spikes, the monitor beside me threatening to give me away.

This isn't a nurse.