The hours ticked relentlessly by, and one day stretched into two.

Lee Min Ho hovered over the case like a mother hen, knowing that for all he could not see, something was indeed happening. The killer wasn’t curled up in his bed, sleeping. And this fact makes him more frustrated than ever.

The team had scoured the evidence, searching for the mysterious lead that would close the gap between hunter and hunted. But nothing new of significance had presented itself.

Min Ho stood in his office alone, staring out the window at the cars passing by below. He and his team had all they needed. Somewhere in the pages of evidence on his desk hid a key that could unlock the case: a dot, a word that said more than had been spoken.

Min Hyuk walked in cutting his thoughts, “Hyung, The rest all have been checked out. We have three more leads we’re chasing down, but of this bunch, nine are now dead. Ten are in jail. Five are in other assisted-living facilities, and twelve are in the mainstream, living normal lives with family or friends. Not a hint of the killer.”

At his instruction, Krystal had studied the residents on Sister Mi-Kyung’s list of discharged cases and identified forty-three whom she deemed capable of violent behaviour. The team had tracked down thirty-six of them, eliminating each as a suspect.

He frowned and nodded. “Arrasso. Chase the other seven down.”

“Already have. Just waiting for the final report.”

Min Ho gave him a brief nod and Min Hyuk took the hint and left.

He pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Krystal, can you come to my office for a minute?”

He settled into his chair, closed two open files on his desk, and set them neatly on top of the others. Six books he’d pored over stood side by side at his elbow. The Centre Cannot Hold, an autobiography of a schizophrenic. A couple of other books on mental illness.

Three mechanical pencils lay in a wood tray next to the Bride Killer files. Other than these items, his desk was clear. The rest of his office was as carefully arranged.

He picked up one of the pencils, crossed his legs, and tapped the plastic casing on the desk’s top.

Krystal tapped his open door. “You called?”

“Have a seat.”

She walked in and slipped into one of two chairs facing his desk. Jeans today. White sandals that nicely complemented her red toenail polish. She’d had a pedicure last night or this morning. Her foot started to twirl slowly.

He lifted his eyes and saw that she was watching him. Dressed in jeans and a white short-sleeved blouse, with her dark wavy hair she looked a bit like Min Young, he thought. For an extended moment he forgot to remove his eyes from hers, and by the time he realized that he was staring he’d betrayed himself.

He shifted his gaze to the stack of files. “We’re running out of time.”

“If you mean he’s going to go again, you’re probably right. I don’t know what else we can do.”

“We can expand the search beyond the forty-three people you pulled out of CWI’s files.”

She nodded. “I’ll pull more, but it’s highly unlikely – ”

“I realize that. But we’re missing something.”

“From CWI?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

She nodded. “The place got under your skin, didn’t it?”

“The Center for Wellness and Intelligence.” He set the pencil back down. “It doesn’t appear there’s any connection to the case.”

“But you saw something else,” she said. “You’ve been to mental health wards before. Correctional facilities for the insane. The banging of heads on toilets, the twenty-four-hour suicide watches. But this was different.”

“They were… I don’t know…”

“Human,” she said.

It sounded so cruel.

“No, more than that.” What could I say? I felt like I was looking in a mirror? That wasn’t entirely true, but he couldn’t deny that he’d seen something oddly familiar.

Krystal stood, crossed to the door and shut it. “The thing of it is, Min Ho, I get you. I know you’re good at what you do because of the pain that’s driving you. I know they got under your skin, because you connected with them on a level that confuses you.” She crossed to his desk, placed her palms on the surface, and leaned over. “How am I doing?”

He suddenly wanted her to know it all. So he told her.

“She killed herself.”

“Who did?”

“Min Young. She committed suicide. Everything was perfect. We were going to get married when we graduated. She loved me, and I was head over heels. One night, she took some pills and killed herself.” His voice strained by emotion. “She didn’t think she was pretty enough.”

Krystal sat. “I’m sorry.”

“It took me a while to figure it out – the details aren’t important now. She didn’t think she was pretty enough, but she was beautiful. Not just in my eyes.” He pulled open his top right drawer and withdrew a five-by-seven photograph of Min Young tossing her dark hair, holding a tennis racket on the court. He slid it over to Krystal.

She picked up the picture. “You’re right, she was beautiful. I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s taken a while, but I think I’m finally understanding that her death was debilitating for