The Third Case (1)

I arrive at a remote house in a village in Northern Seoul, the address given to me by Detective Kwon. The house seems isolated, surrounded by a dense thicket of trees and overgrown shrubbery. As I approach the front door, I notice the unkempt lawn and the overall sense of neglect that permeates the property.

I knock on the door, and after a few moments, a woman in her early thirties opens it. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her face is etched with worry and exhaustion.

"Officer Park, Nowon Police Station," I introduce myself, showing her my badge. "I'm here about your missing daughter. May I come in?"

The woman nods, her lower lip trembling as she steps aside to let me enter. The interior of the house is cluttered and dimly lit, with toys and children's drawings scattered across the living room floor.

"Please, sit down," the mother says, gesturing towards a worn couch. "I'm sorry about the mess. I haven't had the energy to clean since..." Her voice trails off, and she takes a shaky breath.

I sit down, my notebook and pen at the ready. "It's perfectly understandable, Mrs...?"

"Song," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. "Eun-ju Song."

I nod, making a note of her name. "Mrs. Song, can you tell me about your daughter? When was the last time you saw her?"

Eun-ju's hands tremble as she clasps them together in her lap. "Her name is Soo-yeon. She's six years old, and she's always been such a bright, happy child. She loves to draw and sing and..." Her voice cracks, and she takes a moment to compose herself.

"She was supposed to come home from school yesterday afternoon, but she never did. I waited for hours, but there was no sign of her. I called the school, but they said she had left at the usual time. I've been searching the neighborhood, asking anyone if they've seen her, but no one has."

I make notes as she speaks, my mind already racing with possible scenarios. "What about her father? Is he in the picture?"

Eun-ju shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No, he left when Soo-yeon was just a baby. It's been just the two of us ever since."

I nod, my heart aching for this single mother and her missing child. "I understand. Can you describe what Soo-yeon was wearing when she left for school yesterday?"

Eun-ju closes her eyes, as if trying to picture her daughter. "She had on her favorite pink sweater, the one with the little white flowers. And she was wearing blue jeans and her pink sneakers. She always loved that color."

I write down the description, making a mental note to put out an APB on a child matching those details. "Was there anything unusual about her behavior yesterday morning? Did she seem upset or anxious?"

Eun-ju shakes her head, her brow furrowed in thought. "No, she was her usual self. Excited about going to school, chattering about her friends and her favorite teacher. There was nothing out of the ordinary."

I nod, my mind already sorting through the possibilities. A child disappearing on her way home from school could mean any number of things, from a simple case of getting lost to something far more sinister.

"Mrs. Song,I'll need a recent photo of her, if you have one, and any other information you can think of that might help us locate her."

Eun-ju nods, rising from the couch and disappearing into another room. She returns a few moments later with a framed photograph of a smiling little girl with pigtails and bright, curious eyes.

I arrive back at the police station, my heart heavy with the weight of the information I've gathered. As I enter the briefing room, I find my senior detective and team members already assembled, their faces etched with concern.

"What did you find out, Park?" my senior asks, leaning forward in his chair.

I take a deep breath and begin to recount the details of my conversation with Eun-ju Song, the timeline of Soo-yeon's disappearance, and the lack of solid leads from the neighbors. As I speak, I can see the gravity of the situation settling over the room, the tension palpable in the air.

"In cases involving children, we can't afford to waste a single moment," my senior says, his voice filled with determination. "We need to organize a search party immediately. Every second counts."

The team leaps into action, quickly forming two groups. One team, led by my senior, will focus on searching the area surrounding Soo-yeon's home and the route she would have taken from school. The other team, which I'm a part of, will continue to question the neighbors, hoping to uncover any new information.

As I sit in my car, my mind racing with the details of Soo-yeon's disappearance, Bundy's voice cuts through my thoughts like a razor.

"You better prepare yourself," he says, his tone equal parts taunting and warning. "This case has all the makings of a murder investigation."

I bristle at his words, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "We don't know that, Bundy," I snap, my voice harsher than I intend. "We can't jump to conclusions without evidence."

Bundy chuckles, the sound sending a chill down my spine. "Oh, come on, Park. You're not that naive. A little girl vanishes into thin air, no witnesses, no clues? It's the perfect setup for something far more sinister than a simple disappearance."

I shake my head, trying to dislodge his words, but they cling to my mind like a stubborn stain. "We have to consider all possibilities," I argue, but even as I say it, I can feel a creeping sense of dread taking hold.

"Exactly," Bundy says, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "And the possibility that Soo-yeon was taken, that she fell victim to some twisted predator? That's the one that should be at the forefront of your mind."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but I can't shake the feeling that Bundy might be right. The pieces don't quite fit, the circumstances surrounding Soo-yeon's disappearance too neat, too convenient.

"Let's say you're right," I concede, my voice barely above a whisper. "Let's say this is a murder case. What then?"

As I navigate the streets of Seoul, my mind churning with the details of Soo-yeon's case, Bundy's voice slithers into my thoughts once again.

"You know," he muses, his tone almost conversational, "if you want to get ahead of this case, you might want to start profiling possible suspects."

I hate to admit it, but there's a certain logic to his words. "Okay, fine," I concede, my voice tight. "What kind of profile are we talking about?"

Bundy hums thoughtfully, the sound echoing in my mind. "Well, let's think about it. If someone did take Soo-yeon, it's likely they knew her routine, knew when she'd be most vulnerable. That suggests someone familiar with her, possibly even someone she trusted."

I nod, the pieces starting to fall into place. "Like a neighbor, or a family friend?"

"Exactly," Bundy says, his voice taking on a note of approval. "But let's not stop there. We should also consider the possibility of a stranger abduction. In that case, we'd be looking for someone with a history of violence, possibly even a record of crimes against children."

I feel a wave of nausea wash over me at the thought, but I force myself to consider it. "We'd need to look for any registered sex offenders in the area, anyone with a history of stalking or harassment."

Bundy's laughter fills my mind, a sound that makes my skin crawl. "Now you're thinking like a profiler.. But don't forget the wild cards, the ones who don't fit any neat little box."

I frown, my brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

But before I can dwell on it further, I realize that we've arrived at the scene. The flashing lights of the police cars cast an eerie glow over the area, and I can see the grim faces of my fellow officers as they move about, securing the perimeter.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what lies ahead. "Duty calls," I mutter, more to myself than to Bundy. "I can't afford to get lost in hypotheticals right now."

Without waiting for Bundy's response, I exit the car, slamming the door behind me. The cool night air hits my face, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside the vehicle.

As we head out into the field, the weight of the situation bears down on me. The thought of a missing child, alone and vulnerable, sends a chill down my spine. We split up into our designated teams, each group focused on a specific area of the search.

My team begins by combing through the neighborhood, knocking on every door and showing Soo-yeon's picture to anyone who will listen. We ask if they've seen anything suspicious, if they remember spotting Soo-yeon at any point during the day. Some residents offer sympathetic words, promising to keep an eye out for the missing girl, while others simply shake their heads, a look of concern etched on their faces.

As the hours drag on, our hopes begin to dwindle. We expand our search radius, moving beyond the immediate vicinity of Soo-yeon's home. We scour local parks, check abandoned buildings, and even venture into the dense woods that border the neighborhood. The other team, led by my senior detective, focuses on retracing Soo-yeon's possible route from school, searching for any clues or signs of a struggle.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the streets, we reconvene to share any findings and plan our next moves. The other team reports no significant leads along Soo-yeon's school route, while our canvassing of the neighborhood has yielded little more than a few vague sightings and dead ends.

Late into the night, as we're about to regroup once more and reassess our strategy, an urgent message crackles over the radio. My heart sinks as I hear the words, the voice on the other end strained with a mix of shock and dread.

"We found a body."