chapter four

“Choi Jinhyung was already a suspect in another drug-related homicide.” Jiwoo walked to the other side of the board and tapped against the two pictures there—one of a normal, smiling man, and the other of the crime scene from Saturday.

Jae started shuffling through a new stack of files before sliding over on his swivel chair to pass a thin folder to Matthew. It contained pictures, some screenshots of blurry CCTV footage, and a typed up report, but Matthew didn’t care about the case that had already been solved.

“But how does he connect to J.Seph?” he asked, glancing from Jae to Jiwoo.

Jiwoo motioned to the file Matthew was holding. “A few months ago, he was working at Sangchul Medical.”

Matthew looked back down at the file with a new understanding. To the public, Sangchul Medical was a miracle—it put forth numerous life-saving medications for a generally affordable cost, rendering its profits average for a pharmaceutical company, and most of its funding actually came from large private donations. The largest donator, of course, was the businessman Seungjin Park, who their team had connected to J.Seph through multiple criminal confessions.

All of these criminals did somehow die before any of the information could go to trial, however, and the recordings of the first few statements they had gotten disappeared shortly afterward. Thereafter they had hidden the recordings and remained silent about their existence; Director Park had decided it was too much of a gamble to think their small group could overturn such an important person, let alone someone connected to J.Seph.

But they knew about the connection, even though they couldn’t do anything about it directly, and that seemed to be the identifier in this case.

“That’s why we think he had something to do with the murder,” Jae said. “The homicide Choi was involved in had to do with someone that didn’t pay up for the drugs, but we think this someone was never supposed to get these drugs in the first place.”

“So he was stealing and selling some of the company drugs for his own profit,” Matthew finished, and Jae nodded.

Matthew turned back to Jiwoo, but before he could ask anything about their leads on the kidnapping, someone burst through the door to the office room. His chocolate blond hair was a bit too long, the bangs beginning to cover his wide eyes. Kevin Woo looked like he had run a few miles, what with his disheveled hair and heavy panting. He barely noticed Matthew sitting there, and if he did he didn’t comment on it.

“Phone died, so couldn’t call,” he said, and then coughed a few times, his panting starting to slow. “They also kicked me out—I think I looked too much like a passerby, and I forgot my ID.”

“What happened?” Jiwoo demanded.

Kevin cleared his throat, getting his breathing under control. “They found a body in a car near the crime scene—the same car Matthew identified during the kidnapping.”

Usually it was Jae and Kevin that came out to get the initial forensic evidence, but Matthew had been unable to stay away from this one. Convincing Kevin to let him go instead hadn’t been hard—the victims they dealt with were sometimes left in horrific states, and Kevin, with his kind and cheery disposition, had a hard time flipping off his emotions to deal with them. The only reason he continued that task was because of his memory; he could accurately recreate the crime scene as a model in their office.

Matthew was glad he had come instead. The fact that the car was parked in the exact location it had been during the kidnapping was not lost on him, and that observation begged to be scrutinized more, but Matthew couldn’t bring himself to focus on it yet. He was too torn between a erse satisfaction that the sick bastard who had hurt Somin was dead and the more logical disappointment that their main lead and connection to J.Seph was now gone.

Then there was the implication of what happened to Somin and where she could be, but Matthew chose not to go down that dangerous line of thought.

He was helped by the way Jae jabbed an elbow into his ribs, nodding toward the medical examiner that had taken a step back from observing the body in the car. The driver’s side door had been fully opened to allow easier access, and the examiner had been there when Matthew and Jae had arrived. He had been given access to the body before it was moved to the lab for further testing, though based on what the other officers there had told them, it wouldn’t have mattered too much since the victim hadn’t even been shot in the car.

“Single shot to the head, no powder burns . . .” The voice was familiar, but his back was turned to them. “We’ll have to analyze any fracture lines in the skull for clues about the distance and velocity, and that can only be done in the lab . . . we'll have to call in the forensic anthropologist,” he said, and when he turned around Matthew didn’t know how to react. Typically, Hongbin’s presence would have only irritated him, but he somehow felt relieved that it was a familiar face.

Hongbin carefully pulled off his gloves and then took off his surgical mask. He dropped them into a plastic bag held by an assistant, who then took out his notepad again, writing down everything Hongbin was saying. “My guess, though, based on similar scenes in the past, is that the shooter was in the same room, and the victim was not expecting his fate. That would explain the lack of other injuries—there was never a struggle.”

That was when Hongbin looked past the assistant and saw Matthew and Jae standing at the edge of the police tape barring off the scene. A flash of recognition crossed his face, and he turned to walk toward them.

“You’re back on the case,” Hongbin commented when he reached the police tape. He ducked under it gracefully, and then gestured for his assistant to hand him the notepad.

Matthew glanced at Jae while Hongbin turned aside to take the notepad. Jae shook his head slightly, and the message was clear—no one else was to know about the connection to J.Seph. “Guess so,” Matthew said easily when Hongbin turned back.

Hongbin tore out the relevant page from the notepad and held it out to Matthew. “You might need this, then. I’ll get the body in the lab later, so I’ll be typing up a report anyway.”

Matthew nodded, glancing down at the messy but thorough notes of the assistant for a few seconds before folding the paper and stuffing it in his pocket.

“Any other thoughts about the victim?” Jae asked, craning his neck to get a better view of the crime scene.

Hongbin pursued his lips. “The evidence at the moment doesn’t lend itself to further conclusions.” Meaning any other thoughts he had were just that—nothing substantial that they could actually investigate.

“But you have other thoughts?” Matthew prodded, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Hongbin let out a sigh. “I’ve seen my fair share of cases like this. Victim murdered, but evidence cleaned up and the body brought somewhere else. None were as . . . complicated,” he said, glancing pointedly at Matthew. “But they were usually related to small criminal organizations. Someone higher up got mad or suspicious—a clean way to tie loose ends. But the effort put into this one . . .” He shook his head. “Same place, same car. There was so much risk involved, especially since this area is still under surveillance.”

The information began to click into place for Matthew. “Too much risk,” he said slowly, “for a small organization.”

Hongbin nodded. “A small organization. But the rest of the clues are quite similar, to the point that I wouldn’t put it past a larger organization—one that had more connections, more influence, such that the risk of playing a game like this wouldn’t equate to much of a threat.”

Wording it the way he did, Hongbin had cast a new light on the scene; as a matter of fact, he had cast the whole crime in a new light. Playing a game.

It was at that moment that Matthew recognized the placement of the car for what it was—a taunt. Whoever had arranged this knew that while most would know about the general location and maybe even model of the car, only Matthew would recognize the exact placement of the car along the curb. This person would also have the resources and power to arrange such a risky move, as well as a personal vendetta against Matthew.

Despite the meager evidence and heavy hypothesizing, Matthew knew in his gut that there was only one such person.

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For the next few days, Somin was left alone in the penthouse, which only served to confuse her more. Sure, she had minimal experience being kidnapped and was far from being an authority on the matter, but she had a vague feeling that someone who was kidnapped, especially by the head of a large crime syndicate, was not typically left with such freedom.

It wasn’t like the penthouse offered many resources in terms of escape—the windows weren’t an option since this was the top floor, and a peek through the peephole of the entrance door had revealed two bulky men attentively standing guard. Not that she would’ve been able to unlock a door bolted from the outside anyway.

But there was an ample amount of food and drink, and upon further exploration Somin discovered that the closet in one of bedrooms was full of women’s clothing that appeared to be her size. She couldn’t find anything more harmful than a butter knife in the whole apartment.

The only access to the outside world came in the form of the TV, through which Somin figured out what day it was. To think that she had been kidnapped for almost a week was slightly off-putting, especially since she didn’t feel kidnapped, however that was supposed to feel. Her main worries didn’t pertain to herself—she was more concerned about how her family and Matthew were reacting to everything. Did they think she was dead when she was, in fact, alive and well?

And Matthew, who had seen so many horrifying cases that told of what people could do to each other, and especially to a woman—what was going through his head?

Her family would be able to avoid thinking of such things since they generally were never exposed to them, but Matthew was another matter.

Being left alone with nothing but her thoughts was maddening, but she preferred it to the other alternatives she could think of.

Thursday morning, Somin was flipping through several TV channels again, having grown considerably accustomed to her solitary confinement. She decided to change to the news channel again, despite the at times infuriating lies they covered as actual news. Mostly it was entertaining in a dark way—Somin felt a twinge of hopelessness every time another bit of false information was revealed, knowing it was a step further from the truth and a step away from her being rescued. At least she wasn’t being treated as horrifically as some of the rumors suggested she was.

The news that day was not as sensationalistic, and Somin quickly realized it was because a new lead was only just found. The first few reports about the new leads were simply informative at best, too vague at worst, but the outright gossip came a bit later in the day, when people were more likely to tune into the evening news and news channels had had a good minute to conjure up thrilling hypotheses based on the limited information.

“A car was found at the same site as the murder, and it is presumably the same car used by the perpetrator. The irony is that it is none other than the murdered himself that was today found in the car, dead by a gunshot to the head.”

As the camera zoomed into the car from afar, Somin fumbled to catch the remote that she almost dropped with shock.

It wasn’t presumably the same car—it was the same exact car. And the victim’s face was censored, but Somin knew without a doubt that it was the man that had taken her.

The man that Taehyung had killed.

A chill went through Somin, and she shakily held up the remote to turn off the TV. She didn’t need to see any more, didn’t want to see any more.

If Taehyung had thought her useless, would that have been her fate?

No, she couldn’t afford to think like that now. She had to rely on herself to keep herself together, and thoughts like that would only break her apart.

Before she realized, she had fallen asleep on the couch, her thoughts a mess of what ifs.

It took Somin a second to identify what had woken her up, and when she did she froze.

There was the unmistakable sound of the door being unlocked, and she turned in time to see someone walk in that she’d naively thought she wouldn’t have to deal with for quite a while.

“I presume you’re doing well?” Taehyung asked, but his tone implied it was merely rhetorical, so Somin didn’t move, opting to carefully observe his movements.

He was dressed in a dark suit that Somin would’ve thought was black if not for the hints of blue visible because of the natural light through the window. It was well fitted and crisp, such that she would’ve expected it for a formal night out rather than a business meeting, or whatever Taehyung attended in his . . . line of work.

He disappeared down the hall that led to the bedrooms, and reappeared a few minutes later. Somin hadn’t moved. “I apologize for leaving you unattended, but you don’t seem to have had an issue with that,” he said, glancing at the TV. Somin suddenly wondered if there were hidden cameras around the penthouse.

“Anyway, you should take a shower and get ready. I picked out a dress and left it on the bed—I’m sure you know which room.”

At that, Somin furrowed her brow, thoroughly taken aback. “Sorry, get ready?”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow—Somin hadn’t stuttered in his presence, and she vaguely recognized that as a first. Maybe she had gotten a bit too comfortable these last few days, and Taehyung’s outwardly polite demeanor wasn’t helping. She still had to remember that he was a criminal—hell, he had killed a man in front of her during their first meeting.

“We’re heading out, and I’ll need you present as company.”

A dash of fear coursed through Somin then. Maybe it was some of Matthew’s typical paranoia that had rubbed off on her, but she was hesitant to think of what kind of company she was being taken as.

Taehyung seemed to realize where her thoughts were going. “You’ll only be with me, though that is a possibility if you choose not to cooperate.” It was disarming, how kindly he delivered the most ominous threats. “You have a little over an hour.”

Though she wanted to do nothing but scramble off the sofa and run to the bedroom, she didn’t want to appear like too much of a pushover—no matter how essential for her survival, that level of unquestioning obedience felt too demeaning. She stood up smoothly, and walked steadily toward the bedroom.

The dress was a deep navy that matched Taehyung’s suit, and it was a single piece that appeared from the front to be a top and a skirt. It was close fitting and simple, reaching a little past her knees, with minimal decoration save for the three buttons on either side of the skirt part. The top was a draped crossover blouse, but it was not at all loose and was fitted at the waist, where it merged with the skirt.

All in all, Somin had no idea what kind of event she was being dragged to.

There was some makeup set out on the dressing table, and since Somin wanted to avoid potentially angering Taehyung, she decided to apply some makeup to look formally dressed up.

She was now sure that this was anything but a conventional kidnapping case.

Somin was nearly done, just putting on a touch of the least striking lip-gloss color she could find, when the door to the bedroom opened. She whirled toward the door, eyes widening in surprise.

She had known there were no doors in the penthouse that could be locked from the inside, and only a few that could be locked from the outside. Still, she hadn’t expected such a sudden entrance, especially with the relative privacy she had gotten so far.

Taehyung looked up and down at her, carefully analyzing her appearance, and Somin resisted the urge to shudder when his eyes seemed to darken. He walked closer to her until he was less than a foot away, and Somin struggled to remain still since she had a feeling that moving away wouldn’t help. Lightly touching her chin, he turned her head from side to side slowly. “They’d pay quite a lot for you, though . . .” he trailed off, and Somin stiffened.

A few seconds later, he nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Be out in a few minutes—the traffic is pretty heavy.”

Somin barely had a chance to nod before he disappeared, leaving the door open behind him. She had half a mind to close the door before continuing, but quickly pushed the urge back. She couldn’t afford to be rebellious when her life was at stake.

True to Taehyung’s prediction, the traffic was heavy, and Somin recounted more than one time during which they were at a complete standstill. Clawing more at her attention was the fact that she was now outside the penthouse for the first time in almost a week, and even more, she wasn’t bound or drugged like she was the last time she was in a car.

She did try to open the car door handle, though, and quickly realized how annoying the child lock feature in cars was. She was grateful that her attempt had only served as amusement for Taehyung.

There was no attempt at small talk during the whole ride, with Taehyung typically on one phone call or another. The conversations were sometimes in English, sometimes in Chinese, but the matters being discussed were far beyond her understanding since she had only an elementary grasp of the languages. During some point, Somin must have fallen asleep again, because she was woken by a gentle shaking of her shoulder.

It was slightly alarming how easily she could fall asleep in the presence of a killer. It was also alarming how the thought scared her more than the actual action.

The driver got out first, opening the door for Taehyung, and before she could move the driver was opening her door as well. She got out hesitantly, her heels not helping her balance, which was already affected by how nervous she felt.

It looked like a typically modern office building, the exterior full glass and reflecting the bright blue of the noon sky. Taehyung was at her side, then, and he offered his right arm, bent slightly at the elbow. Somin glanced between his arm and his face for a second before she cautiously linked her arm through, trying her best to avoid actually resting her arm on his. She gave up as she realized that she needed the support—she was a step away from losing her balance and falling flat on her face.

She had no idea what she was walking into, but she desperately hoped for Taehyung to continue this façade of kindness . . . regardless of how psychopathic his intentions might be.

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