Thomas sat down, his blue eyes behind his glasses resting on White for a long moment, as if waiting for something he had already anticipated.
“White, after reading Mark’s file and comparing it with the other victims… you’ve already noticed the difference, haven’t you?”
White did not look up immediately.
She turned the forensic report page slowly, her gloved fingers gliding lightly over the black printed lines.
The cold blue-white light made the paper look more sterile than ever.
Her voice came out even, mechanical, neither rising nor falling, stripped of emotion:
“The autopsy was performed by Professor Brandon, a long-time expert from the University of Forensic Medicine.
First stab: delivered directly into the carotid artery, causing near-instant death.
Second cut: a horizontal slash across both eyes shallow, never reaching the pupils.
After that the killer continued using the same surgical scalpel to make numerous shallow, uneven cuts across the face.”
She paused briefly.
At last her eyes left the page and fixed on the pinboard.
“The difference: the density of cuts in this case is significantly lower than in the later ones.
Probably because he was still inexperienced.
Mark’s face… was still recognisable.”
The soundproof room fell silent for a second.
Jay’s grip tightened on the file in his hands.
Thomas exhaled softly, as if confirming something he had already feared.
Knight tilted his head beside White, his voice low:
“The first case… he was still clumsy.
But after that he got used to it and started showing his bloodthirsty nature.”
White sank into her own thoughts.
Knight rested a hand on his chin.
Then he spoke again, his voice low and full of suspicion:
“The first stab already took the life… so why slash the eyes?
Could it be that the victim looked at him with some kind of hostility or contempt?
If that were the case, he should have cut deeper.
But the wound was shallow… Maybe he knew Mark.
And when he saw those eyes, he… hesitated.”
Jay nodded slowly, his tone carrying both agreement and helplessness:
“Our team already investigated.
Mark’s three closest friends all have solid alibis.
They could have been fabricated, but we haven’t found any cracks yet.
They’re all male.
We also considered the possibility that they used hair from female relatives.
But DNA tests on family members and close friends… still no matches.”
Knight frowned slightly, his voice dropping:
“So what exactly made him hold back?”
White raised her head.
Her voice was even, cold, cutting through the stifling air:
“There are only three things that could have made him hesitate.
One: he knew Mark.
Two: Mark had helped him in the past.
Three: he was in love with Mark, so he couldn’t bring himself to be more brutal.
Or… it could be all three.”
Thomas leaned back against the sofa and exhaled heavily.
Behind his glasses his blue eyes looked dull with fatigue.
“What kind of emotion drove him to this level of brutality?
Affection?
Hatred?
Psychopathy?
Or all of them at once?”
He looked up at the pinboard, his gaze stopping on the crossed-out heart symbol on the later photographs.
“The most logical motive is a broken relationship.
But twelve murders over a single love affair… doesn’t that feel excessive?
Looking at their files, these young men were ordinary.
Not evil.
Not deserving of such a tragic end.
The crossed-out heart… what does it even mean?”
Everything gradually sank into deadlock.
The soundproof room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the steady hum of the ventilation fan and the distant drumming of rain against the windows.