[T/N] I apologize for grammar mistakes and incoherencies
Preface Case File: Case Opening
In Thailand, we’ve always been taught that we can freely choose our religion. Everyone has the right and freedom to believe in whatever they desire. It’s common to hear that Thailand is a Buddhist country because Buddhism is the most widely practiced religion. But how many truly understand what Buddhism is, its teachings, beliefs, and practices? Alongside this, there’s another saying: Thailand... the land of ghosts.
Judging by the rituals, beliefs, and things commonly seen, it’s clear that spirits, deities, and even angels are invoked and worshiped everywhere. Whether it’s ghosts, ancestral spirits, sky spirits, forest spirits, mask spirits, or household spirits, we often see flowers, incense, and various offerings placed in locations where it’s unclear what exactly resides there, like road bends, desolate valleys, three-way intersections, or even oddly shaped trees. These practices and beliefs have been passed down for generations, forming sayings that, despite some skepticism, are still followed by many. After all, these are matters of faith.
Nowadays, humans seek different spiritual anchors. Whether it’s worshiping Chinese or Hindu gods, giants, Brahma, or even all sorts of ghosts and demons, how can we be sure we’re worshiping what we believe in and not something else that’s subtly mixed in?
Saturday, Lunar Phase
A storm raged, the wind howling through poorly hinged wooden windows, making eerie sounds as if someone was inside. Four people sat in a circle in the house. The cries of a six-month-old baby echoed, sounding startled all the time, writhing in a basket among three elders performing a ritual.
“Three days a spirit’s child, four days a human’s child, whose child is it? Who took it?” The old man’s voice was filled with concern. According to tradition, parents should claim their child, but this time it was different.
“Th-”
“Aaaargh!!!” The sound echoed throughout the area. Everyone at the ceremony looked left and right for the source, but finding no one else, they immediately pressed their palms together in prayer against their foreheads.
“The child is human, not a spirit.” The old man said with a stern face.
The candles on the altar were blown out by a gust of wind, leaving only white smoke floating. With trembling hands, the old man struck a match to relight them, but then he startled as he saw a figure of a pale woman in a torn skirt and a stained blouse in the dark corner of the house. Her face was pale, showing displeasure, but her eyes were sewn shut with red thread, just like her lips, preventing her from speaking. The more she tried to speak, the more fresh blood flowed down from the stitches.
“Namo Buddhaya, Ma-pa-thana, Pa-ka, Sa-cha
Sappe-dva-pi-sa-je-wa, A-lava-ka-ta-yo-piya
Kha-kang, Tala-pat-tang, Dis-va, Sappe-yak-kha
Pa-lay-ti, Sak-ka-sa, Va-ji-rav-thang”
A shrill scream rose amidst the chanting as a strong wind lifted everything into the air.
“Ves-suvanna-sa-ka-th-avu-thang
A-lava-ka-sa, Du-sav-thang
Ya-man-ssa, Na-ya-na-vu-thang
I-me-dis-va, Sappe-yak-kha, Pa-lay-ti.”
As the chanting ceased, everything settled down. Items scattered on the floor, and the tense atmosphere returned to normal.
“Where is it? Is the spirit gone?” the old woman said, stroking the crying baby’s arms and legs to comfort it.
“It’s not the mother child who took it.” a white thread was tied around the baby’s wrists and ankles as it wriggled in the basket. “The child can’t stay with you, take it to the monk at the temple.”
The old woman looked at the child with a cute face, crying until his eyes were swollen and red, with pity. Because there was no other choice there was then only one thing she could do, to take this child and have him live under the protection of Buddhism.
The only ancient temple in this province was built hundreds of years ago. The monks residing there are all wandering monks. It is said that if one has faith, the temple will reveal itself. The locals venerate one particular wandering monk so much that they’ve restored the temple to make it livable, though not without hardship. Despite their faith, fear often outweighs it, as this area is rumored to be a gathering place for spirits, situated in an ancient dense forest. It’s no wonder no one dares to venture in at night.
An elderly couple, arm in arm, walked into the temple area. The whimpering of a small child didn’t make the atmosphere any less frightening; rather, the cries only intensified the eerie feeling.
Bang, bang, bang!!
A loud knocking on the temple door resounded amidst the strong gusts of wind. When it was opened, the creaky wooden door hinges screeched like a banshee.
“Rev...Reverend Abbott?”
“Give it up, layman. No matter how much you worry, those who have passed cannot stay in this realm.” came a voice as cold as water, before the elderly couple could even explain.
As the old monk spoke, a strong wind blew leaves and grass around wildly as if a storm was brewing, with windows banging open and shut as if someone was very displeased.
“Reverend Abott, this child has no father, his mother is dead, I took him in but it’s been nothing but trouble. Can you look after him?” the old woman said, her voice trembling. Since taking in the child, they felt as if they were not alone in the house, every step watched by unseen eyes, objects moving by themselves, and lullabies mixed with desperate cries at night. Everything made their life uneasy.
The crying child was passed from the old couple to the arms of the monk, and as soon as he held the child, the cries began to quiet. The temple door slowly closed, under the gaze of hungry ghosts longing for a pure soul.
“You will see what you do not wish to see, and endure great hardship until this karma passes. Endure it, Thup.”
25 Years Later
Inside a bustling police station, people reporting cases moved about as much as the police officers. This scene was so common it was almost mundane, except today something was different.
An officer ran into the station, looking frantic, turning left and right as if looking for someone.
“Why are you sweating like that, Lieutenant Khem?”
“Where’s the inspector? Where is he?”
“The inspector has been out on a case since this afternoon. It’s a child kidnapping case, why? You’d think someone died, by the way you are acting”
“Well, someone has died!!” Lieutenant Khem rushed outside again, straddled his motorcycle, and drove off to the location he had inquired about from his colleagues.
Not long after, he stopped in front of a mill on the outskirts of town. Lieutenant Khem pushed through the crowd of villagers gathered around. His sergeant had been there for a while and caught sight of a tanned, muscular young man with a grave and intimidating demeanor that commanded respect from the officers.
“Inspector, inspector!” Lieutenant Khem, breathless, approached.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“...241 incident.”
The sharp-eyed inspector looked at his subordinate silently before stepping away from the crowd. The code 241 meant a murder case.
“Where?” the inspector asked.
“In the forest, six kilometers from here. Seven human bodies were found hanging in the middle of the forest.”
“Let’s go there. Secure the area, call in the forensics and the medical examiner to the scene. Make sure no one touches anything until I get there.”
“Understood.”
“Sergeant Singha, should we take the suspect back to the station?” a voice shouted from inside, catching Singha’s attention.
“Yeah, handle it. Take the kids to the hospital for a check-up and call their guardians.” Singha mounted his black motorcycle and drove off, ignoring his subordinate chasing after him.
“Inspector!!! The suspect is still in the area!!!”
In the forest, outside the community, lit only by the full moon, leaves rustled without wind, even though there should have been insects chirping but the night was eerily silent except for the police officer’s own heavy breathing. He kept looking around nervously.
Rustle.
“What the heck!” he exclaimed, grabbing his baton in a flash, sweat trickling from his forehead and palms as fear gripped him. The human mind conjures what it fears the most and magnifies it in multiples.
Scrape, scrape
The chilling sound, like nails on wood, echoed from behind. He dared not turn to look, knowing that if he did, the sight of seven corpses hanging from the tree tops would haunt him forever.
“Who’s there?!” The young officer squeezed his eyes shut, swinging his baton wildly. The chilly air did nothing to calm him; instead, it made him feel like he’d stepped into another world.
‘Sniff’
A soft sob near his ear made his other senses sharpen as he closed his eyes. The newly appointed officer thought his job would be easy; he never imagined dealing with hair-raising murders.
‘Sniff, sob, sniff, sob, sniff, sob, sniff, sob, sniff, sob’
From one to two, then three, until he couldn’t tell whose cries were whose. The only thing he knew was that they seemed so close, as if the weepers were surrounding him.
“Get out, get out! Leave me alone!!” He swung his baton aimlessly until a firm hand stopped him.
“What are you doing?”
“Hey!!” The officer collapsed, muttering prayers, “Namo, namo tassa, namo tassa.” The gruff voice, laced with irritation, gradually calmed him.
“Open your eyes.”
“I..inspector!!”
“What’s got you so spooked?”
“I really heard voices, sir, like someone was here with me!!”
“It must be that kid again.” Singha said, tossing the baton back to the person in front before walking into the crime scene. He looked up to see seven corpses hanging from the large branches of the surrounding trees in a circle. His sharp eyes scrutinized each dead face meticulously. The moonlight cast a glow that revealed red threads stitching shut both eyes and lips of the corpses. Some bodies looked like they had been dead for days, bloated and bruised, with skin splitting to reveal layers of flesh. Others were turning greenish-purple as they swelled, while some showed bruises as if they had just died recently.
Singha looked down at a young, pale-skinned man illuminated by the moonlight, but not entirely clean as his hands and body were covered in bright red blood. The tall, slender figure trembled as he hugged his knees tightly. Singha couldn't see his face because the young man kept his head down, mumbling something to himself.
“Look up.”
“I... I can’t...”
“I told you to look up.”
“I can’t do it. It’s not my fault.” Singha crouched down in front of the trembling young man, whose fear reminded him of someone else, a fear he had seen before. “I... I can’t do it... really, it's work... it’s the ghost’s doing.”
The young man looked up at Singha, and that alone made the young officer pause. His fair face, beautiful brown eyes framed by long lashes, a well-defined nose, and lips that seemed to shimmer with tears under the moonlight, filled Singha’s mind with questions.
Questions like... what was this young man doing here?
Soon, various units arrived at the scene, everyone shocked by the situation. A young forensic doctor approached his friend with a light pat on the shoulder.
“Rough job, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Judging by the state of the body, he didn’t die just a day or two ago. There are bruises and he’s starting to smell.”
“Someone said that kid was at the crime scene.” Both turned to look at the young man, who was looking around in panic.
“Have you seen the faces of the seven victims? This isn’t just an ordinary murder.” The forensic doctor remarked with curiosity.
“Photograph all the evidence, then bring the body down. There’s only one set of footprints on the ground, and they match that kid’s size. The blood on him seems too fresh to be from the body, but he might have hurt someone before coming here. I’ll take him back to the station for blood sample analysis. You stay here.”
“Does a person with a face like that do something like this?”
“Any face can do terrible things.”
Singha then went to direct his subordinates at the scene before returning to his vehicle. “Take him back to the station and detain him.”
“Yes, inspector.”
Singha glanced at the young man again. He seemed like he wanted to say something but remained silent. The young sergeant mounted his motorcycle, looking back at the crime scene one last time. The body hanging from the tree under the moonlight looked like a scene from a nightmare, but not for Singha.
He had to solve this case to bring the culprit to justice.
Case File 1: The Curse of the Solitary Cell
At the police station past midnight, aside from the duty officers and those waiting off their hangover, it wasn’t as bustling as daytime. The quiet atmosphere ended when a van carrying a suspect parked in front. Two officers escorted a composed young man inside. Just then, the previously calm wind suddenly gusted stronger for no reason.
“Who’s this, Lieutenant?”
“A suspect.”
“Ha! Someone this good looking?”
“These days, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Let’s go, open an interrogation room; the sergeant will deal with him.”
“The rooms are full. Two are being repaired, cameras and wiretaps, and one is in use.”
“Then put him in a solitary cell for now.”
“Uh... can you open it yourself, sir?”
“Don’t be silly, go on, hurry! If the inspector sees this kid still roaming outside, we’ll get an earful!”
The young man glanced at the two officers bickering. He was led inside, past desks, past the staff room, until they reached the holding area. The stifling atmosphere made the young man turn away with every step echoing on the floor. He looked around warily, and when they reached the innermost cell, he saw a man sitting facing the corner, radiating a chilling, eerie vibe. This cell felt different from the others, darker and more ominous.
The sound of the iron door creaking was painfully loud. The officer pushed Thup inside without much care.
“Stay here, don’t cause trouble. An officer will come for a body search.”
“Uh... sorry, but do I really have to stay here?”
“Looks like it. The interrogation rooms are full, and you won’t be here long. We’ll call the doctor soon.”
“Uh... but here... will something happen?”
“Hey kid, you ask a lot of questions.”
“So... so that means I have to stay in this room alone, right?”
“And you want me to just sit here and watch? That’s a weird question.”
The young man slowly sat down on the floor, gripping the bars tightly, his eyes slightly trembling, before softly beginning to chant.
“Namo Tassa Bhagavato Araha.”
‘I should have killed them all. I shouldn’t have left any.’
“Arahato Samma Sambuddhassa Namo Tassa.” The young man recited the chant while looking down at his own feet.
‘I don’t want to be locked up, locked up, locked up.’
“Bhagavato, a... Arahato, Sa... Samma Sambuddhassa.” A chilling sensation made the young man’s chant become stuttered, his beautiful hands gripping the bars so tightly that veins were visible.
‘Need to escape, must escape.’
The sounds of movement behind him didn’t arouse curiosity; the dragging footsteps, the sounds of tying something, continuous, like the mumblings of wanting to escape. He didn’t even want to guess what kind of escape that was.
‘Gasp! Cough! Gag! Cough!’
The sounds of agony made the young man quickly cover his ears. The rustling of clothes, the flesh hitting, screams like someone out of breath, until after four minutes, everything returned to its original silence.
Shaking, the young man slowly removed his hands from his ears. He saw nothing in his peripheral vision, so he gradually turned his head to look behind, only to see an empty room. He sighed in relief, but as he was about to relax, a drop of water hit his forehead, making his heart race again. He breathed heavily and looked up.
!!!!Kid
The image of a young man in tattered clothes is hanging from an upper beam, a thick rope around his neck. His eyes bulge out, his face is a ghastly green, not like someone who has just died. The source of the water droplets on his forehead is from his tongue sticking out. This horrific sight makes the young man tremble with fear, backing away until he hits the wall. His eyes widen as the hanging body slowly inflates and eventually falls to the ground. Instead of the scene disappearing like when he still had the monk’s necklace, the body now slowly moves, its swollen face glaring at him with vengeful eyes before crawling towards him, mumbling,
‘Run, run with me, do it.’
“Please, stop, don’t, sob, don’t do it.” The young man pleads, hands clasped, as the ghost crawls closer.
‘Come with me, die like me!’
The young man shuts his eyes tight, trembling, knowing that believing even a word could seal his fate.
While he sits curled up, eyes closed, hoping the nightmare would end, a cold breeze blows in, like before...like in the forest.
“Who said to take this kid to Khun Darin, lieutenant?” a deep voice asks from the front.
“Uh, Khun Darin said to take the suspect to the room, but no one dared to come.”
“Too scared of nonsense to work, eh? Pathetic!” The irritated voice makes the teary-eyed young man look up from the sneakers to the dark jeans, tight black t-shirt showcasing abs, to the leather jacket sleeve brushing back hair in frustration, “Get up, follow me, and if you think of running, you’ll regret it.”
The ghost is gone...it vanished.
Singha looks at the young man, who is looking around in panic, just like when he first saw him.
He had just returned from directing the scene when he asked others about the new suspect; they all pointed to the solitary confinement room. On his way, he heard sobbing mixed with chanting from inside, confirming it was this kid.
A young man is handcuffed, led by an officer at the front and another at the back. They are heading to the nursing department for a body check before the interrogation process begins.
A rough hand pushes open the door to a clean, white room, indifferent to whoever might be inside.
“Damn! You scared me, Singha!” a tough-looking woman exclaims. Her jet-black hair is clipped up hastily, and she pushes up her thick-framed glasses before throwing a half-eaten apple at the newcomer. “Ever heard of knocking? Manners, dude!”
“I’m a police inspector.”
“And?”
“Brought a suspect for a body check.” He pushes forward.
“Suspect?”
“Yeah, murder case.”
“Seven bodies, in the forest, right?”
“How did you know?” Singha pulls the young man forward.
“Your buddy’s got a mouth like a loudspeaker. How do you shut him up?” Darin, a former forensic pathologist turned nurse because she couldn’t handle the ghosts, puts down her files and walks into the examination room, followed by the suspect and Singha. “Say called to prepare the autopsy room. He painted such a vivid picture, I’m still creeped out.”
“Delusional.”
“Yeah, because tough guys like you aren’t scared of anything.” Darin hands over the consent form for the body check to the young man, who is staring at the floor. “Read it carefully, then sign here, so we can start the check.”
“Uh... me...” The young man suddenly stops talking and starts reading the document.
“You sure we’ve got the right guy?” Darin whispers to Singha, standing beside him.
“He was at the crime scene.” Singha whispers back, his sharp eyes not leaving the visibly nervous young man.
“About the size of you but seems like a light kick could topple him, yet he supposedly killed seven people and hung them on a tree. That can’t be right.”
“Out of anger, intentional murder, or even a cover-up, anything could have happened until we investigate.”
“Done.” The young man handed the file back to the two.
“Because I’m a woman, I need Singha to find a man to be with, are you okay with that?”
“Yes.” The young man stared at the person leaning against the wall with a gleaming look.
“Alright, let’s begin.” Darin placed the file on the bed, starting to examine the young man, including drawing blood for tests. Even external bloodstains were collected, “Look at this wound.”
Pulling up the trouser leg revealed an open wound. Though not deep, it was suspicious enough not to be ignored. The routine examination proceeded, with the young man occasionally glancing at the person by the wall, but upon meeting eyes, he quickly looked away.
“Yes.” The young man stared at the person leaning against the wall with a sparkling look in his eyes.
“Okay, let's get started.” Darin picked up a file from the side, placing it on the bed before beginning to examine the young man's body, including drawing blood for testing. The external blood stains were collected as well. “There's this wound.” she noted during the examination.
The rolled-up trouser leg revealed an open wound. Though not deep, it was significant enough not to be overlooked. The procedure continued with basic steps. Occasionally, the young man glanced up at the person standing by the wall, but when their eyes met, he quickly looked away.
“Name?”
“Uh...yes, sir?”
“What's your name?”
“Thup. My name is Thup.”
“Age?”
“T-t-twenty-five.”
“Oh! The year of misfortune.” Darin chimed in. “Sing, you're also in your year of misfortune, right?”
“Get back to work.”
“I know, I know!” Darin continued the examination. After documenting everything, including photos and data in the file, she then proceeded to dress the wound.
“The next step is an interrogation. So, don't make it hard on yourself. Don't lie, and don't think about running.”
“I...I really didn't do it.”
“Everyone caught on charges like these says the same thing.”
“Can...can I ask for something?”
“The only right you have is to a lawyer.”
“Can...can I stay somewhere else? I can stay anywhere, even in this room, but not that cell, please.”
“The cell? The one at the very end?”
“Yes.”
“I see. I told them to bring you in, and they were reluctant, turns out it's because of that rumored haunted cell.”
“When are you guys going to stop believing in this nonsense? Ghosts, really? It's all in your heads, just psyching yourselves out.”
“Sing, I won't argue if you don't believe me, but there've been several detainees who ended up killing themselves in there. Not just one or two.”
“By...by hanging, right?” The young man looked up, and both Singha and Darin raised their heads.
“Yes, how did you know?” Darin said, startled. “The first detainee caught for a family massacre used his own blood to write a farewell on the floor before hanging himself with a cord hidden in his pants. After that, anyone locked in that cell has tried to kill themselves, some succeeded, some didn't. It's creepy. Even though it happened five years ago, hardly anyone uses that cell anymore. Okay, we're done here.”
“Stand up.” Singha ordered the young man again. “When you get the test results, bring them to me, and if Say comes back, let him know too.”
“Right, right.”
Singha escorted the young man to the interrogation room, which had just been repaired. Standing next to each other, he noticed the young man was only slightly taller than him.
“Thup Thammawat Wirakitthada, twenty-five years old, currently working as a freelance illustrator. No record of parents. No criminal record.” Singha read through the profile of the person sitting across from him, item by item. Meanwhile, Thup just sat there, nodding along. “The current address is twenty kilometers from the crime scene. Want to explain why you were there and how you got there, seeing as there's no record of a driver's license here?”
“I can't drive.”
“And then?”
“So, I took a taxi.”
“Do I have to dig for every detail, or are you going to spill it all at once?”
“Sorry. I...I had a dream. I dreamed that something bad would happen there. So, I went. I told the taxi driver to wait, but he didn't.”
Thup looked up at the young inspector across from him, who had a stern look on his face.
“Are you going to tell the truth, or spend another night behind bars?”
“I'm telling the truth. You might not believe me, but I've told you everything I can. I remember the taxi's license plate. I remember everything.”
“Then tell me.”
The young man wrote down the taxi's license plate and slid the paper over.
“After I got out of the taxi, I saw an old lady about to walk into the woods. I followed her, and the deeper I went, the more I felt like I was going somewhere I shouldn't. Next thing I knew, I was standing there. I was so scared I tried to run, but no matter how I ran, I kept circling back to the same spot until the police found me. I tripped over a branch and fell, and then you caught me.”
“If you saw an old lady, where is she now? Who is she? Why would you follow a stranger into the woods?”
“I didn't see her face clearly, but she was wearing a blue collared shirt, a green floral scarf, and she was carrying an old-fashioned lantern. I heard a sound behind me, so I turned for just a second, and when I looked back, she was gone.” After hearing the story, Singha sighed and puffed out his cheeks in frustration.
“Did you listen to what you're saying? Anyone believing you is an idiot!” Singha stood up, slamming the file onto the table, making the young man jump. “You think you'll avoid prison with this ridiculous story?”
“I...I'm telling the truth. I really didn't do it.”
“Damn it!” Singha stormed out of the room in frustration. It wasn't just the young man's story that angered him; it was also the fact that the young man's physical demeanor didn't show any signs of deceit. If he wasn't telling the truth, he was certainly a skilled liar. “Lieutenant, go take his statement, and bring me the case report.”
“Yes, Inspector.”
“Lieutenant, look up the taxi's information and bring the driver in for questioning.”
“Understood.”
That problematic kid.
Case File 2: Statement from the Taxi Driver
Singha was standing in the observation room, his sharp eyes fixed on the pale young man in the interrogation room. The observation room door opened, and Lieutenant Khem entered, handing over the case file to his chief, who was still glaring at the young man.
“He answered all questions the same way, Inspector.”
“Did anyone else see anyone else in the area?”
“No. The police initially at the scene didn't see anyone either.”
Lieutenant Khem turned to look at the young man in the interrogation room and sighed. “I don't know. I think this kid doesn't seem like a killer. Not just because of his innocent face, but also because his statements show no inconsistencies. Plus, the fact that he had to take a taxi to the crime scene, he couldn't possibly have transported all the bodies there, right?”
Singha didn't respond as he was reading the case file in his hands, just as the observation room door opened again, this time with Lieutenant Prom, a young officer who had recently transferred.
“Inspector, here's the driver's information. We've issued a summons for him to come in for questioning.”
“Hmm.”
“Also, Dr. Say is back.”
“And the victims' bodies?”
“They've been sent over as well.”
Singha walked back into the interrogation room. As soon as the young officer entered, Thup straightened up automatically, feeling tense.
“Stand up.”
“Where...where are we going?”
“Back to your cell. We need this room.”
“Can I stay somewhere else? Another cell, storage room, anywhere but not that cell, please. I'm begging you.” The young man was visibly agitated.
“What's wrong with going back there?”
“You wouldn't believe me anyway... right?”
The young inspector puffed out his cheeks in frustration.
“Inspector, Dr. Say is asking for you.” Sergeant Khem opened the door to inform his boss.
“Yeah, I'll be there in a minute.” Singha grabbed Thup by the collar, making him follow, disregarding his near-tearful state. “Lieutenant, is there any other room available?”
“Just that?”
“Yes.”
Singha dragged the young man by the back of his shirt, making him follow up to the upper floor of the police station. Despite the small distance in their steps, it seemed Thup couldn't keep up with the person in front at all.
“Officer...sir, I...I can't keep up.” Thup gasped, his shirt collar pulled so tight he could barely breathe, but the person ahead showed no signs of slowing down.
When they reached the front of an office door clearly marked with an inspector's badge, Thup pressed his lips together. The door was opened just as Singha pushed the young man inside. He then went to retrieve a key from his desk drawer. This room would do for a temporary holding place, at least until the investigation was over. There was only one entry and exit. Thup chose to sit on the long black sofa cautiously, looking around the room warily.
“If you're going to be difficult again, you can go back to your old cell.”
“Thank...thank you.” The ringing of a phone from his jeans pocket didn't stop, forcing Singha to answer, though he kept his eyes on the young man.
“What?”
[Where are you?]
“Upstairs.”
[Come down, Sing, I've got something to show you.]
“Wait a moment.” Singha hung up quickly, walked to the small fridge in the room, grabbed a bottle of water, and tossed it to the young man on the sofa. “Don't cause any trouble.”
“I'll stay here.”
“Thank you, Inspector Singha.” The addressed man glanced slightly before walking out, not forgetting to lock the door from the outside.
He walked downstairs, then opened the door to the forensic department. The clattering sounds from the autopsy room didn't unsettle Singha at all. Once inside, he found his friend, a young man with red hair contrasting with the white lab gown he was wearing, pacing between the three autopsy tables and the four open body storage units behind.
“What have you got?”
“Come here, put these on.” Singha grabbed gloves from a box and put them on before standing next to his friend. “The seven victims' bodies show no physical similarities. This corpse is an eighteen-year-old male. That one's a forty-three-year-old male. And that one's a fourteen-year-old female.” Say pointed to the bodies laid out on the tables in turn, then turned to the body storage units behind.
“This one's a fifteen-year-old male, that one's a nineteen-year-old male. And the last one is a fifteen-year-old female.”
Singha scanned each corpse, particularly lingering on the body of the young girl.
“I know what you're thinking, the killer isn't specifying the type of victims here. It's sloppy work, Sing.”
“It's not certain there's no connection yet. We'll see once we have detailed backgrounds of each.”
“Yeah, I hope so.” Say walked back to the first body's table. “Each body was treated the same: sewn eyes with red thread and lips sewn shut in an 'X' pattern. Look here, the victims' necks have ligature marks from rope, but there's something deeper.”
“Wire?” Singha leaned in to examine the victim's neck. Apart from the bruising from the rope, there were also small, deep cuts.
“Not sure yet, but I think so. These cuts are the cause of death, strangulation until asphyxiation. The victims probably didn't see it coming. The more they struggled, the tighter the wire-like material cut into their necks from behind, slicing deeply into the flesh. I think the killer is probably a teenager or maybe young adult, possibly around one-eighty centimeters tall or more.”
“And at the crime scene, did you find anything else?”
“There's nothing suspicious, but you might want to look at the photos again. There are two sets of footprints: one from our police and the other from the suspect.”
“That kid is over one-eighty centimeters tall.” Singha muttered to himself.
“The thread sewn over the eyes and mouth of the victims probably isn't to prevent them from calling for help; it's more likely due to some psychological repression or mental illness, to torment the victims more.”
“Examine the neck wounds and the thread too, just in case. And if the victims were still conscious when strangled, they might have struggled or fought back. Check under their fingernails for any DNA traces from the killer.”
“Okay, I'll handle it.”
“If you find anything else, let me know, and I'll need the autopsy reports.”
“I'll get them to you.” Then they both went back to their respective duties.
Singha walked back to the interrogation room because he received a message that the taxi driver was there waiting to give his statement. However, his steps suddenly halted, and he changed direction towards his own office instead.
Thup was in the chief’s office in the station, looking around before slumping back into the sofa weakly. He stared at the white ceiling, sighing. If he hadn’t lost the amulet given by the monk, he might not have dreamt of that and seen these things again.
“What should I do?” Thup muttered to himself, but suddenly, he noticed a dark shadow passing by the glass door. His once calm heart raced again. The young man reassured himself it was probably overthinking due to exhaustion from not eating or sleeping for hours. His eyes fixed on the frosted glass door until he saw the figure of a woman gradually become clear outside. Thup hunched over again, thinking if he didn’t look up, he wouldn’t see those frightening things, but then the sound of the doorknob turning made his heart sink, “Please don’t scare me, don’t scare me.”
“Will there ever be a time when I meet you under normal circumstances?” Thup looked up immediately.
“Inspector!”
“Do you remember the taxi driver’s face?” The familiar voice asked.
“Y...Yes.” When Singha got the answer he wanted, he unlocked the handcuffs.
“What are you staring at?” the young policeman asked, noticing the kid in front of him couldn’t take his eyes off the door.
“Nothing.”
“Get up and follow me.”
“Where are we going? You’re not taking me to the cell, are you?”
“And what if I am?” Singha replied irritably, rolling his eyes as the kid hesitated to follow.
“Come on.”
As they neared the interrogation room, Thup suddenly halted, turning to look down the hallway leading to forensics. He saw a girl standing at the end, sobbing. Instead of tears, drops of blood flowed down her cheeks.
“The girl...”
“What about her?”
“I... I see a girl standing there.” Singha looked where the pale finger pointed but saw only emptiness.
“Describe her.”
“She’s young, with long black hair down to her back, wearing a yellow t-shirt and jeans overalls...”
Singha furrowed his brows, then grabbed Thup by the collar, urging him to move.
Just like back then. She said the same thing.
Thinking about it, Singha puffed out his cheeks in frustration. This kid was at the crime scene, he must’ve seen the bodies already. He couldn’t afford to entertain such nonsense.
They reached the observation room, where the interrogation began. Singha had to keep an eye on both the taxi driver and the suspect beside him.
“Is this the guy?” Singha asked.
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“He’s called Danai.”
“What color taxi?”
“Pink.” Singha nodded in acknowledgment, then glanced into the interrogation room about to start.
“Good day, Danai, got the summons?”
“Just a bit.”
“Shall we get started then?”
“Uh... maybe not.” Must have been quite the shock when you got it, or do you want a drink first?
“Alright, let’s begin. Today, we’ve invited you to ask about a passenger who rode in your taxi last night.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll remember.”
“Just whatever you can recall. You drive a pink taxi, a Toyota, license plate number 487, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Your name is Mister Danai, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Last night, from dusk till midnight, a passenger, a man in his mid-twenties to thirties, hailed a taxi in front of a condo for a ride out of town. Remember him?”
“I remember... that young man...” The taxi driver paused for a moment, nodding vigorously before answering.
“Do you recall what he was wearing?”
“Ah, if I’m not mistaken, he was in a white T-shirt, with a gray hoodie. Not sure about the pants, but he was tall, fair-skinned, and quite handsome.”
Thup looked down at himself before turning to Singha with a gleaming eye, probably because the taxi driver’s description matched him perfectly.
“Can you tell me what his demeanor was like before getting into the car, during the ride, and when he arrived at his destination?”
“When he hailed my taxi, he seemed very anxious. During the ride, we didn’t talk much, but I asked him what he was going to do in the middle of the forest at this late hour. The young man replied that he thought something bad might happen.”
“And then what happened next?”
“While driving, the road was deserted, and the atmosphere was very quiet. So, I turned on some music and we didn’t talk much. After a while, the kid suddenly told me to stop the car. After paying, he asked me to wait, then he walked straight into the forest.”
“Did he take anything with him, or was anyone with him?”
“It looked like he went empty-handed, and no one was with him, but...”
“But what?”
“But... Some of my taxi driver friends have told stories about people encountering something strange around there often. I’m scared of ghosts myself; I only stopped for a moment before I felt eerie and drove off.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“I parked at a store about two kilometers away because I wasn’t sure if I should wait for him.”
“About those stories, can you tell me what they are about?”
“Well, around there, they say people have seen an old woman, or sometimes a young woman, standing in the forest by the road. She wears a blue blouse, a sarong with green floral patterns, and carries a lantern. They say if you drive by half-asleep, you might see her crossing the road. If you stop, bad luck often follows, leading to accidents. Now, no one stops there anymore.”
“A ghost?”
“They say it’s a local deity or a forest spirit.” The taxi driver explained, excitedly rubbing his arms.
Singha sighed before turning to look at the young man standing beside him.
“I’m not lying, really.” Thup said.
“I haven’t even asked.”
“... “
“I don’t know how to convince you, Inspector, but I really didn’t kill anyone. I told you, it was a ghost.”
“Ghosts don’t use wire to kill people or sew their eyes and mouth shut, so keep your ghost story to yourself.”
Looks like this case won’t be straightforward.
Case File 3: Merely Three Bits of Information
After the interrogation ended, Lieutenant Khem allowed Sir-Danai, the taxi driver, to leave, not forgetting to warn him that he might be called back for further questioning. The current information seemed insufficient to connect any dots. Singha thus decided to request all case reports from the teams on the ground and returned to his office, with the young suspect following behind.
“Inspector, here are the case reports. This one is the witness statement, and this is the preliminary autopsy report from forensics.” Lieutenant Khem, who had just followed him in, glanced briefly at the young man standing in the corner of the room. “Uh, should we take the suspect back to the holding cell as usual?”
Singha didn’t reply immediately. He merely turned to look at the visibly nervous young man. There were many reasons to suspect him, and without a better alibi than a ghost, he remained the prime suspect.
“Keep him in another holding cell when one is available.”
“Understood.”
Grrrrr
The sound of the young man’s stomach growling interrupted the conversation, followed by laughter from the elderly policeman standing by the door.
“Sorry.”
“It’s almost three. Inspector, do you want a snack or something? I’m heading out to buy some.”
“Get whatever, and a coffee for me too.” Singha said, handing over some money to his subordinate before sitting back at his desk.
“Hey kid, want something?” Thup was just a suspect, not enough evidence to conclude he was the perpetrator, so Lieutenant Khem didn’t want to pressure the young man too much.
“Can I have a boxed lunch, please? But... my wallet...”
“No worries, Inspector is footing the bill.” Khun Khem said, waving a purple banknote.
Thup looked back at the person reading documents with pleading eyes. He kept staring even though Singha didn’t look up, until finally, the young inspector couldn’t help but speak out in annoyance.
“Order whatever you want, and get some for the guys on duty too.” Thup said, pursing his lips.
“Yes, inspector. I’ll be right back.”
Once Khun Khem left, the room fell silent, filled only with the sound of flipping papers and keyboard clacking. Thup tiptoed to the sofa, careful not to disturb the working person. Fatigue slowly crept over him, making his eyelids heavy. He slapped his cheeks repeatedly, fearing that if he fell asleep now, he might wake up back in the same old cell.
Meanwhile, Singha, engrossed in case files, glanced up when he heard a sound from the sofa. The first person’s background he looked up was this suspicious young man in front of him. There was barely any information; just someone who had moved to the city from a university town in the Isan region. No clear parental history, but the application form for university mentioned a monk.
“What do you usually do in your free time?” Singha asked without looking up.
“Huh? Are you asking me?”
“There are only you and me in this room. Who else should I ask, your mother?”
“Uh... please don’t say it like that.” Thup said, looking around nervously.
“I just watch movies or draw pictures.”
“Anything else?”
“Uh... that’s it. I don’t really go out much.”
“Why?”
“There are things out there I don’t want to see.”
“But you choose to go into the forest at night? Do you know that just makes you closer to being a villain?”
“I... I think it’s happened before.”
“What do you mean?”
“People with their eyes and mouths sewn shut... I’ve seen it before.” Singha placed the file he was holding down, crossed his arms, and stared at Thup intently. “You might not believe what I’m saying, and that’s okay. I just want to share in case it might be useful.”
Thup pressed his lips together before letting out a deep sigh. Normally, he didn’t like talking unless necessary, especially about such personal matters, but Singha made him feel safe.
“I... I’ve seen ghosts. Since I was little, I thought it was just temporary, but it wasn’t. When I was at the temple, the monk helped me a lot. I never had friends my age because I couldn’t tell the difference. The monk gave me a necklace before he passed, to distinguish between the dead and the living. Before all this happened, before I dreamt about the forest incident... I’ve seen it before. I saw a woman whose eyes and mouth were sewn shut with red thread. So, what I’m saying is, this might not be the first time.”
Thup glanced at Singha with fear, seeing the young officer didn’t respond. “That’s... that’s all.”
“Here you go, sir, steamed beef with a fried egg, not fully cooked. And for this little one here, who looks like he doesn’t like spicy food, I got fried rice. Can you eat this?” LieutenantKhem interrupted, holding out food boxes with a broad smile. Thup’s fatigue momentarily eclipsed his fear.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“Just call me Lieutenant Khem.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Khem.”
“Eat up.”
Singha left the room without a word, making Thup’s heart skip a beat again. He knew it was hard to believe, especially for someone like Singha who seemed skeptical about such matters. He didn’t expect the young officer to believe him, but he wanted to be of some use.
“Have I made the officer angry?” Thup muttered.
“Nah, he’s always like this.”
“So, Lieutenant Khem, the inspector doesn't think I’m... the culprit, right?”
“Not exactly, but the man is decisive. If he thought you were the bad guy, you’d be sleeping in a cell by now, not wandering around like this. Come on, eat up, young man, I’ll unlock your cuffs first. After you eat, I’ll lock them back up.”
“Thank you.” Thup smiled and bowed in gratitude.
Meanwhile, Singha, the young inspector, stepped out to the station’s parking lot, lighting up his usual brand of cigarette. He inhaled deeply, the nicotine hitting his lungs to calm the chaos in his mind. After half a cigarette, he pulled out his phone and dialed a contact at the Central Investigation Unit.
[3 AM] A groggy voice answered.
“Merk, I need info.”
[I’m trying to sleep here.]
“Multiple homicides, victims sewn at the eyes and mouth with red thread.”
[Are you even listening to me?]
“The case might be years old. I need all the info on similar or related homicides.”
[You’ve got to be kidding me, hold on.] There was a rustling on the other end. Singha stubbed out his first cigarette and lit another. [Seems like there’s something, I’ll send it over.
“Hmm.”
[Why suddenly interested in a case from five years back?]
“Five years ago?”
[Yeah, similar reports from five years back. Wait, there was something ten years ago too.] Singha’s eyebrows furrowed. [It’s an unsolved special case, why the interest, Singha?
“Because I’m dealing with this damn case now, send everything over.”
[I’ll have to inform the commander then.]
“Hold on, the commander will make things even more complicated. Let’s wait until we have more to go on.”
[Singha, that’s the commander!]
“Just this much.” Singha hung up before taking another deep drag, thinking if this case had really happened before and multiple times without the culprits being caught, then it’s dangerous!
Singha returned to his office, rolling his eyes slightly. Upon entering, he saw his subordinate casually chatting with the problematic kid. There was also an empty food box on the table.
“No work to do, Lieutenant?”
“Not yet, sir, waiting for your orders.”
“I’ll send some info your way, gather it up for me.”
“Sure, and are you going home tonight, sir?”
“No.”
“Understood.” After Lieutenant Khem left, Singha forwarded an email he received from a friend at the central investigation unit, then continued reviewing each victim’s background in detail.
“Sir?”
“What?”
“Can I sleep, sir?”
“Want a bath and a soft bed too?”
“Really?” The young man asked excitedly, but seeing the stern look, he returned to his curled-up position, “Guess not.”
Thup looked at the blank paper and pencil on the table. The young man sat on the floor, doodling aimlessly because sitting still would surely put him to sleep. Now, the room was filled only with the sound of turning paper and the scribbling of a pencil.
Singha read through the victims’ backgrounds, trying to find any connection. But aside from their ages being all over the place, nothing matched - not their professions, addresses, or even lifestyles. Typically, serial killers choose victims with something in common, be it physical traits or shared data points, but here, there was nothing. The only consistent factor was the method of killing.
Singha reopened the emails, carefully reading through each detail. The case from five years ago occurred in a northern province, with seven victims all sewn up with red thread at their eyes and mouths, just like now. Reviewing those victims’ profiles, it was the same - no connections among them.
“So, what’s the killer’s selection criteria?”
Age? Indeterminate.
Gender? Indeterminate.
Occupation? Indeterminate.
Residence? Indeterminate.
Religion?
He spread out all the papers on the table, going over the religion section. And there it was - every victim, from the recent cases to those five and even ten years ago, followed the same religion.
Buddhism.
This was the only link found so far.
A grunt from someone slumped over the guest table caught Singha’s attention. Walking over, he saw the young man had been drawing. Picking up the artwork, he frowned. It was a picture of himself, looking stressed while working. Given the skill, the kid claiming to be a freelance artist wasn’t exaggerating. Singha shook his head, placed the drawing back, threw his coat over the young man’s head, and left the room, locking the door behind him. He headed to the forensics lab to re-examine all the victims’ bodies.
In the chilly morgue, the bodies had been neatly stored in refrigerated cabinets. Singha glanced around, his eyes scanning each cabinet, pondering deeply. Just knowing the victims’ religions wasn’t enough to catch the killer. He needed more, anything to solve this case and nab the murderer.
Thup, roused by the sound of a door closing, groggily reached for a solid black leather jacket, holding it as he looked for its owner, but found no one. A slight smile crept on his lips as he inhaled the jacket’s pleasant scent. Who said inspectors were always tough?
Before he could relax, a sound like nails scratching on wood jolted Thup. Turning slowly, he saw the shadowy figure of a woman outside the glass door again.
“What... what do you want?” he asked tremblingly, but received no answer, only a muffled groan from outside. “Are you... the one behind this?”
Before he could finish, a loud banging on the door shook the room as if the person outside was filled with fury. Thup, trembling with fear, hugged Singha’s jacket tightly, trying to close his eyes but curiosity about who was on the other side kept them open. The sound was unmistakable; it was the same eerie groan he had heard from his childhood.
It was that ghost he had encountered before.
The door swung open, flooding the room with light. Through his tears, he saw not a ghost, but Singha’s stern face approaching.
“Check the CCTV.”
“Understood, Inspector.”
“What now, Thup?” Thup turned to look where Singha pointed, noticing long scratches on the door revealing the wood beneath.
“If she wasn’t here to tell me something... then she must want me.”