by Gangxueyin
Had Han Yin been mistaken? Did Wang Wei have a different place for imprisoning, murdering, and dismembering people? He suddenly recalled that Gu Feifei had once told him about cellars as the possible dismembering sites. He then turned to ask the old man if there was a cellar.
“No, there isn’t,” said the old man with a wave. “I helped build this house with my own hands, and I’m sure there’s nothing underneath.”
“Do you know of an abandoned cellar in town? Or somewhere here where Wang Wei could keep or hide things? Like a person.”
“Wang Wei kidnapping someone?” The old man had originally thought his nephew had done something illegal, but he’d been too scared to ask.
“I can’t say right now.” Han Yin smiled and said, “Sir, please just answer my question.”
“Um, well, I haven’t heard of any abandoned cellar. Around here, we say an inch of land is an inch of gold, so where would there be any left? As for . . . as for whether he has any other real estate in town, I don’t know. He was very close to me when he was little. Now that he’s grown, I don’t know why, but he’s kept his distance. He’s become very cold and unfriendly. Sometimes he’ll come and spend the night, and the next day, he’s off again, without so much as a hello or good-bye.”
“What about that garage in the yard?” Kang Xiaobei said to Han Yin.
“Oh, right! Sir, do you have a key to the garage?”
“I do.” The old man grabbed a key hanging from a nail in the wall and quickly walked into the yard and opened the lock on the garage.
As they slowly pushed apart the iron doors of the dust-covered, cobwebbed garage, a heavy odor of mold blew out. It was clear that the garage had not been used for years. There was no trace of Xia Jingjing. But there was still something creepy about the light in the garage. Cautiously, Han Yin and Kang Xiaobei raised their flashlights, and despite the strange smell in the air, they stepped inside and searched in a circle but found nothing.
Kang Xiaobei threw down his flashlight and started hyperventilating. No doubt, he was afraid more than ever about the danger his girlfriend was facing. Han Yin looked as if something had touched him. He turned off his flashlight and had Kang Xiaobei go out first and close the iron doors. This puzzled him, but he did as he was told.
With the iron doors now closed, the garage was nearly pitch-black, with only the thinnest sliver of light coming through the crack between the doors. But this light was nothing compared to the darkness. At that moment, Han Yin knew he’d found it, the origin of Wang Wei’s killing method—darkness, suffocation, terror, struggle. These were the very feelings coursing through Han Yin, the same feelings little Wang Wei had felt. “The garage” was the “black garbage bag” covering the victims’ heads. He wanted the targets of his punishment to experience the inner torment of what he’d experienced in this dark garage. That was his revenge.
Sealed, dark places are always extremely hazardous to a child’s psychological health. The same environment created a killer in Liu Liang. And just as the young Liu Liang had been sent to the darkness in a building, Wang Wei’s mother must have often locked him in the garage.
Han Yin opened the doors and turned on his flashlight again. He felt along the two side walls. He thought little Wang Wei might have left something behind. Because it was so stiflingly hot there, on top of the disagreeable odor, the sweat was streaming down Han Yin’s back, and he had to stop himself from throwing up.
After groping for a while, Han Yin found some engravings next to the east side of the doors. Pieces of wire were strewn on the floor of the garage, and Wang Wei would have used these to scratch images into the cement walls, leaving his deepest expressions exposed to this day.
Han Yin took out his cell phone and snapped some pictures of the engravings. Then he put down his phone and studied the wall. An image came to mind. On those afternoons, when the sun shone onto the garage, the rays penetrating through the crack between the iron doors and radiating on the wall, he could see the little, solitary Wang Wei, with the aid of this faint light, engraving all his dreams and sadness onto a harsh canvas.
Why would a mother torment her child like this? And how did his mother actually die?
Wang Wei’s uncle’s speech brimmed with pathos when talking about the family. He sighed and said, “My mother raised three children, and Wang Wei’s father was the youngest. For generations, my family slaughtered pigs and sold the meat. They had a good reputation in town. Our parents hoped to pass on that business to us. But only my older brother and I were willing to do it. Wang Wei’s father had always made it clear that he didn’t want to be a butcher and was never as good as Wang Wei when he was little. He’d sometimes give me a hand with the butchering, and he learned the trade well. One year I gave him a good set of knives as a gift.
“His father married a girl in town. She was very pretty and clever and full of schemes. They hadn’t been married long when they took off for the city. Wang Wei was born around that time. After seven or eight years of dealing in clothes, they’d accumulated a good amount of wealth. They built this little two-story house and went into the taxi business. Probably the very first the town had ever seen. His father would leave early and come home late. He put all his time and effort into the taxi business. Money was coming in, but their family life suffered.
“Maybe it was all that security and too much idle time, but his mother started dressing up and flaunting herself all over town. People started talking. Said she’d hooked up with some pretty boy. His parents had died young, and he didn’t have a proper job, but he was tall, strong, handsome and got by on his pretty face. Kind of like a male prostitute. I thought she was so smart and couldn’t figure out why she was acting so stupid. Wang Wei was eleven at the time. One night, his father ran over to our place and said he’d come home from work and found his wife missing. Her clothes, her jewelry, and all the money in the house were gone. He figured she’d run off with someone, and I was certain it was Pretty Boy. The shock was too great for Wang Wei’s father, and word that she’d taken off with another man spread all over town. After that, his father became an alcoholic and would savagely beat Wang Wei for no reason.”
The old man paused. Then he burst into tears.
33
THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
They didn’t find Xia Jingjing or any traces of murder or dismemberment at the old house. Wang Wei must have used another location. Han Yin returned to the city, met with Ye Xi, and told her about his visit to Round Mountain. Ye Xi said that Xue Min had gotten out of the house, but Wang Wei was still there. They decided to keep a close eye on his activities.
That evening around seven o’clock, Wang Wei walked to his black sedan, cautiously looked around, and got in the car. He eased onto the main road, and Ye Xi and several undercover cars followed. Han Yin and Kang Xiaobei stayed behind and searched Wang Wei’s home for evidence.
Wang Wei drove at a moderate speed. Every once in a while, he’d rest his arm outside the window and beat his hand on the door, the picture of relaxation and contentment. But the police could not slacken one bit, afraid they might lose their chance to rescue Xia Jingjing.
Two hours passed. Wang Wei led them around in a big circle that covered half the city, then returned home. He had clearly been playing with them. Ye Xi gave the command to surround his car and bring him in. It was time to go to war with Wang Wei.
This decision was not only problematic and born of frustration but also carried a fairly high risk. Xia Jingjing was physically weak and would quickly be dehydrated. She’d been gone now for more than twenty-four hours, and there wasn’t much time left to save her. And either Wang Wei’s criminal instincts were sharper than the police realized or he’d noticed a shift in Xue Min. Either way, he’d somehow realized they were watching. And since the police still didn’t have substantial evidence that would prove Wang Wei was the killer, all they could do was hope to interrogate him using psychological warfare that might breach his defenses and get him to confess.
Midnight
The interrogation room
Shortly after Wang Wei was brought in, Han Yin entered carrying a box. He put the box on the table, took out a key, and unlocked Wang Wei’s handcuffs. Wang Wei rubbed his wrists and thanked Han Yin, who smiled back. Han Yin casually took out a pen and a notebook from the box and said, “Mr. Wang, this is the second time we’ve met, yes?”
“Correct,” said Wang Wei, nodding.
“In meeting for the first time, you gave us a false statement that seriously disrupted our handling of the case. This is why we’ve issued a summons for your arrest.”
“Then you should’ve arrested my wife, too. Or are you two an item?” he said with a devious smile. “A summons. So you’ve got twelve hours.”
“You certainly know the law!” Han Yin smiled. “So you ought to know that we also have the authority to apply for a twelve-hour extension.”
“That’s still only twenty-four hours. I can wait.”
This was clearly meant as a challenge. Han Yin felt that there was no need to waste time. He took three photographs out of the box. They were of Wang Li, Tian Mei, and Xia Jingjing. He placed them in front of Wang Wei. “We also suspect you of two other murder-dismemberment crimes since New Year’s Day and feel you’re involved in a woman’s disappearance on the evening of May fourth.”
“Murder? Dismemberment? You think I’m capable of that?”
“Definitely. We’ve been to your old home and met your uncle. He proved you’re capable of it.”
Wang Wei showed no surprise. He shrugged and said, “I can butcher pigs. Does that imply I can also kill and dismember people? Is this how you solve all your cases, through weak connections?”
“Of course not. We already know about your wife’s affair. We know that when she and her lover secretly met, you went out and committed a crime. We also know that you murder and dismember people, not to punish your wife, but to seek revenge on your mother.” Han Yin took out another picture and laid it on the table. “We found a picture of her at your uncle’s place. You felt she was glamorous and seductive, very much like your victims.”
Wang Wei looked at the photographs. “Very much alike. So what?”
Han Yin pondered something. Then he said, “Your childhood had been a very happy one until you were about eleven. Your home had every comfort, your father was successful, your mother was beautiful and virtuous, and she loved you dearly. But then, your mother cheated on your father, and that was dead and gone. That year, your mother and her lover took advantage of your father being out, driving his taxi. She’d invited her lover over for sex, and that’s when she’d lock you in that dark, scary garage. I can imagine how disturbing such a space must have been for a young boy. Lonely, humiliated, afraid, betrayed. These moments gradually squeezed out all the wonderful things you’d experienced.”
Han Yin took three more photographs out of the box and placed them on the table, the images of the pictures on the wall of the garage. Two adults leading a child. A child and a little car. A child and several tiny circles.
Han Yin pointed to the photographs. “The walls in that garage. Images made by your hands. They reflect to an extraordinary degree what you went through after repeatedly being locked up. Your mind went through a change. A virtual progression from fantasizing, to hoping your father would rescue you, to utter despair. Those small circles next to the child are tears, am I right?” Han Yin paused. “It was then that you, as an eleven-year-old boy, began to feel uncertainty and resentment toward the world. With your mother running off with her lover, your perceptions grew clearer. Because your father left for work early and came back late, you spent most of your time with your mother, who represents your thinking about the entire world. So when she betrayed you, you interpreted this as the entire world betraying you. And I can empathize with this, because I experienced something similar. Fortunately, my stepmother took care of me with kindness and love and support. But you never had that. After your father became an alcoholic and tortured and beat you, your antisocial personality gradually fused. Thus, whenever you encountered difficulties or setbacks or frustration, you wanted to punish your mother or take revenge on society, which led to fantasies of violent behavior.
“Because you had a normal side and received a good education, you were able to at first use violent fantasies to defuse the anger and anxieties within you. But after your schoolmate Yin Aijun’s murder and dismemberment, you heard Yu Meifen’s detailed description of what she saw regarding Yin Aijun’s head, and that gave you a way for your own release. You had often fantasized about killing, dismembering, and disposing of your own mother in just the same way. Years later, when your wife also betrayed you, you could no longer suppress your rage and emotions and finally transformed your violent fantasies into reality.”
Wang Wei’s expression lost much of its earlier insolence. He gazed at his mother’s photograph on the table, and said, “I . . . I guess you were talking about me. Sometimes, I can’t tell who I really am!”
“You are someone forced by fate into a hopeless situation!” Han Yin felt the change in Wang Wei and adopted a sympathetic tone. “From my perspective, a childhood with an irresponsible mother and an adolescence with a wildly violent father create a standard path to an antisocial personality. Unfortunately, you’re a victim of this. It strips you of your dignity and endlessly humiliates you. Man to man, if I’d had the sort of experiences you did, perhaps I might have turned out the same way. So I can truly understand everything you’ve done and where it stems from.”
Han Yin took a volume of poetry out of the box, flipped to a specific page, and placed it in front of Wang Wei. “I discovered this collection of poems in your desk and saw that what you read most was Gu Cheng’s ‘I Am a Willful Kid.’ This is something I also used to read long ago and liked a great deal, so I understand what you’d see in it. Even though reality wrecks our dreams, the truth is in your innermost heart, and like the poet Gu Cheng, you long for a pure and clean world and hope to have a crayon to draw your beautiful visions of a life full of clarity and optimism.”
Then Han Yin took out a key from the evidence box. This key was found in an embroidered box in Wang Wei’s desk. Han Yin believed that it just might open the door that imprisoned Xia Jingjing. “I know that most times you weren’t given that crayon, but let me give one to you now. I hope you can use it to sketch a picture that will let that innermost heart of yours glow with dignity and satisfaction.”
Wang Wei’s eyes were moist. He pursed his lips and sniffed. He held back the tears and slowly reached out to accept the key. He grasped it firmly, his hand trembling.
Right then, Han Yin clenched his fists. He knew Wang Wei would crumble. He was only one step away from success.
Wrong.
Wang Wei gave the key back to Han Yin and wiped his eyes. Then he exhaled and said, sobbing, “You seem to understand people so well, so you ought to realize that if I was this killer and was holding a girl captive, I’d find my greatest sense of satisfaction in thinking about her gradually losing her breath while the clock ticks, knowing all you can do is sit there, counting the seconds!”
The sound of reckless, impudent laughter rose in the interrogation room. And with it, a wave of vertigo swept over Han Yin—he knew he’d lost this round, totally and irretrievably. Humiliated, he clenched the key. Its teeth bit jaggedly into his palm, sending a twinge of pain through him. This pain, however, brought him abruptly back to his senses. Now wasn’t the time to wallow in self-pity or to act on emotional impulses. He had to find out where the problem lay—that’s what he should do now.
Han Yin left the interrogation room and went next door to look through the two-way mirror.
All the top members—the backbone of the task force—sat in the observation room. What had just happened in the interrogation room was beyond their imagination. Han Yin struggled to look at their disappointed faces. The loss had been heartbreaking for everyone. Still, Han Yin pressed on, urging
the technician to play the interrogation video from beginning to end.
Han Yin scrutinized every detail, but after watching the video twice, he found nothing to go on. When he requested a third showing, Ye Xi said no. She was worried that Han Yin had lost control and was too emotionally attached. Watching the video felt like a waste of time. “I think you need to calm down, and we need to think hard about the evidence. Let’s see if there’s anything we missed. Maybe we can find something else that will lead us to a breakthrough.”
“There’s no time for that now! There was definitely something off with my interrogation. I’ll try to calm down.” Han Yin pulled over a chair and sat in front of the screen, his head bowed in thought. When he raised his head, his tone of voice had its confidence back. Ignoring Ye Xi, he told the technician to play the video frame by frame with the sound off.
The technician played the video again as Han Yin had requested. The viewing demanded a high level of patience and concentration. Sweat rolled down Han Yin’s face and soaked his shirt. The other officers in the room held their breath, afraid of disturbing Han Yin’s deep focus.
Finally, he shouted, “Stop!” The right side of Wang Wei’s mouth was curling upward, showing a feeling of disdain. The movement was so rapid, a split second. At normal speed, the eye would never have caught it.
Han Yin had the technician rewind a few seconds and turn on the sound.
“. . . with your mother running off with her lover . . .” This was what he’d said that had made Wang Wei show his utter disdain. Why? Han Yin looked down at the padlock key still in his hand. Before the interrogation, he’d had the key looked at by a specialist, who said it was a duplicate.
Han Yin looked at the screen and scrutinized Wang Wei’s expression. Then he looked back down and considered the key . . . padlock . . . garage . . . key . . . duplicate key . . . run off with . . . disdain . . .