“…That’s weird.”
Jung Yoon, who had been watching him, turned his head at Jeong Rok’s muttered words.
Jeong Rok shrugged once and quickly typed something into his phone.
[Too flimsy]
There were too many flimsy aspects, just like that.
They had come here at this hour, saw the light on, and still didn’t run away.
On top of that, they seemed to have no idea their silhouette would be visible from inside, as they were loitering around the entrance.
The subtle movement of the shadow, just outside the greenhouse, had been unsettling, a silent intrusion into their intense investigation.
Jung Yoon’s gaze remained fixed on the vague outline, a mixture of suspicion and a strange sense of unreality washing over him.
It was late, the world outside was quiet, yet here was someone, seemingly unaware of their own visibility, hovering by the door.
The logical part of his mind, the part that dealt with crime and criminals, screamed that this was a person with something to hide, yet the sheer clumsiness of their approach felt… off.
Jung Yoon, who had been silently observing the movements, suddenly strode purposefully toward the door.
Despite his sudden action, Jeong Rok merely watched him, not stopping him.
There was a silent understanding between them, a trust forged in the crucible of their shared work.
Jung Yoon’s instincts, honed over years of detective work, were often sharper than any logical deduction, and Jeong Rok, for all his eccentricities, recognized that.
The creaking of the straw under Jung Yoon’s heavy boots was the only sound breaking the tense silence, a prelude to the unknown.
His hand instinctively went to his side, touching the reassuring weight of his holstered weapon, even though he knew a confrontation was unlikely to involve firearms.
Still, preparedness was paramount.
Soon, Jung Yoon stood in front of the door, watching the movement beyond the greenhouse door and timing his move.
Before long, the shadow’s movement stopped nearby.
He held his breath, the air thick with anticipation.
Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to spring into action.
The silhouette, now perfectly still, seemed to hum with an unseen energy, a silent challenge.
The rural quiet, usually a source of calm, now felt oppressive, amplifying the suspense of the moment.
His mind raced, calculating possible scenarios: an accomplice, a curious passerby, perhaps even another victim.
The possibilities, each more unsettling than the last, flashed through his thoughts with dizzying speed.
He glanced at Jeong Rok once, then opened the door without hesitation.
The plastic door swayed slightly under Jung Yoon’s force, scraping against the dirt and stones as it swung open.
The sudden rush of cold night air, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant cattle, was a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth of the greenhouse.
His eyes, already adjusted to the dim light, immediately scanned the area, searching for any sign of aggression, any movement that indicated a threat.
His training kicked in, overriding any personal trepidation, focusing solely on the potential danger.
He was a shield, a barrier between the evidence and any threat, and his resolve was unwavering.
Jung Yoon’s immediate thought was to arrest them.
He moved with the intention of encountering someone who would rush at him and engage in a physical struggle, regardless of who it was.
However, the person outside the open door was completely unexpected.
His hand, which had been ready to grab, to subdue, faltered.
The image of a struggling suspect, a physical altercation, evaporated in an instant, replaced by a sight that utterly disarmed him.
It was a complete deviation from his expectations, a curveball thrown into a meticulously planned arrest.
He blinked, trying to reconcile the figure before him with the scenarios he had mentally prepared for.
“Who…”
Jung Yoon’s upper body swayed as he quickly pulled back the hand he had been about to extend.
He barely managed to steady himself and carefully observed the small-framed woman, whose eyes were wide with even greater surprise than his own.
The surprise was mutual, a mirror reflection of bewildered recognition.
Her slender frame, illuminated faintly by the interior lights of the greenhouse, seemed almost fragile against the vast darkness of the night.
Her hands, held up in a gesture of surrender, trembled visibly, betraying her fear.
She was clearly not the aggressive, calculating figure he had anticipated.
Her wide, startled eyes, reflecting the dim light, held no malice, only an overwhelming sense of shock.
The woman couldn’t even scream, standing with both hands raised in surrender, looking at Jung Yoon.
Her silence was deafening, a testament to her profound shock.
She seemed rooted to the spot, a deer caught in headlights, utterly overwhelmed by the sudden confrontation.
Jung Yoon’s initial aggressive posture softened, replaced by a professional curiosity.
Her vulnerability was palpable, a stark contrast to the danger he had expected.
He lowered his hand, his stance relaxing slightly, realizing that this was not the suspect he had envisioned.
“What is it?”
Without a moment’s pause, Jeong Rok swiftly approached and looked out.
Jeong Rok’s expression also became somewhat peculiar upon seeing the woman.
After a brief exchange of glances with Jung Yoon, Jeong Rok surveyed the deeply dark surroundings.
The familiar scent of Jeong Rok’s cologne, a subtle blend of citrus and something vaguely metallic, wafted into Jung Yoon’s senses as his partner joined him.
Jeong Rok’s initial surprise quickly gave way to a more analytical gaze, his eyes sweeping the area, searching for any other presence.
The unspoken question in his eyes, mirrored in Jung Yoon’s, was clear: was she alone?
The darkness beyond the greenhouse, a vast, oppressive canvas, offered no immediate answers.
It seemed there was no one else with her.
She had come alone.
As Jung Yoon stared with uncomprehending eyes, the woman soon began to cry silently, large teardrops falling like chicken droppings.
Her silent sobs were heart-wrenching, a raw display of distress that cut through the professional detachment Jung Yoon usually maintained.
The sight of her tears, glistening in the faint light, painted a picture of deep fear and isolation.
He felt a pang of concern, a human reaction overriding his detective instincts.
To be out here, alone, at this hour, in a town gripped by the shadow of a murder, was deeply unsettling.
She had been wandering alone at this late hour in a town disturbed by a murder case.
Just as he was beginning to worry if she was lost, the woman, vigorously wiping away her tears with her forearm, pulled out her phone and began typing rapidly.
The flicker of the phone screen, illuminating her tear-streaked face, drew their attention.
Her frantic typing, the urgency in her movements, spoke volumes even without words.
Jung Yoon’s mind raced, trying to anticipate what she might be trying to convey.
The situation, already unusual, was becoming increasingly complex and intriguing.
[I cannot speak. I’m sorry. Are you a policeman? I saw that car earlier near the community center.]
The woman tried to hide her sorrow but seemed unable to stop sniffling.
She had managed to come, but she must have been scared, as her face was flushed and tense.
The message on the screen, simple yet profound, provided the first crucial piece of information.
She was mute, a silent witness.
The realization brought a new layer of understanding to her earlier silence and her desperate attempts at communication.
Her flushed face and tense posture were not signs of guilt, but of profound fear and the emotional toll of her efforts.
The connection to the police car, seen earlier, indicated a deliberate search, a desperate attempt to reach them.
“Did you come looking for us?”
Jung Yoon asked.
The woman nodded vigorously at Jung Yoon’s question.
Instead of speaking, she tried to communicate using her hands and expressions.
The woman busily typed on her phone.
Her eager nod, the urgency in her hand gestures, left no doubt.
She was indeed looking for them. Jung Yoon felt a surge of professional interest.
This was no random encounter.
This woman had sought them out, and in a town shrouded in fear, that act of courage held immense significance.
He waited patiently, his gaze fixed on her fingers as they danced across the small screen, eager for her next revelation.
[The lights were on, so I came to check, just in case. The lights aren’t on very often.]
The woman took a step forward, closing the distance, and held out her phone screen in front of him. Jung Yoon read the message and nodded.
Encouraged by his welcoming demeanor, the woman nodded back and began typing another message.
The explanation was logical, adding another layer to the woman’s compelling narrative.
The unlit greenhouse, a familiar landmark in the dark, had suddenly come alive with light, a beacon that had drawn her here.
It was a testament to her observational skills and her courage.
Jung Yoon’s subtle nod was a sign of his growing trust, a silent invitation for her to continue.
***
Meanwhile, Jeong Rok crouched down and brushed the dirt off the woman’s shoes with his hand.
Clumps of mud clung to them, making it look as though her steps had been heavy, regardless of how she’d arrived.
His seemingly casual gesture, a subtle act of care, was not lost on Jung Yoon.
It was another facet of Jeong Rok’s complex personality, a moment of unexpected thoughtfulness amidst the grim reality of their work.
The mud on her shoes, a small detail, told a story of its own: a hurried journey, a difficult path, a desperate attempt to reach them.
While he was crouched, Jeong Rok looked up at the woman with an indifferent expression.
Jung Yoon gave Jeong Rok a quick glance, then shifted his gaze back to the screen held out to him.
The brief exchange of glances, a silent conversation between partners, was a common occurrence between them.
It was a way of conveying information, of seeking reassurance, of silently coordinating their actions.
Jeong Rok’s indifferent expression, a carefully constructed mask, was a familiar sight to Jung Yoon, a sign that his partner was processing information, analyzing the situation beneath his usual flippancy.
[It’s not Yong Joon.]
And at the message he received, his eyes sharpened.
Jeong Rok, who had been observing Jung Yoon’s expression, got up again at Jung Yoon’s unusual reaction.
He stood next to Jung Yoon, just peeking his head forward.
The words on the screen hit Jung Yoon with the force of a physical blow.
The name, Yong Joon, had been at the forefront of their investigation, a leading suspect.
To have that assumption challenged so directly, so unexpectedly, sent a jolt through him.
His mind, usually so meticulously organized, briefly stuttered, re-evaluating everything they had considered thus far.
Jeong Rok’s immediate response, sensing Jung Yoon’s sudden shift in demeanor, was a testament to their synchronicity as partners.
“Are you talking about Jung Yong Joon?”
Jeong Rok asked immediately after reading the message.
The woman, a little startled by his cold, even voice, slowly nodded.
Then, with quick movements, she typed another message.
Jeong Rok’s voice, devoid of its usual playful tone, was sharp, cutting through the night air.
The woman’s startled reaction was understandable, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the name.
Her rapid typing, the urgent movements of her fingers, indicated a desperate need to convey her truth, to convince them of what she knew.
[It’s really true. You might not believe me, but it’s not him.]
Jung Yoon visually confirmed the sentence formed by the woman’s hands.
Then he meticulously examined the woman’s face, which was looking at him.
While he couldn’t definitively tell if she was lying from her expression, at the very least, his intuition prevented him from dismissing the woman’s words.
He studied her, searching for any tell-tale signs of deception, any flicker of dishonesty.
Her earnest gaze, the genuine distress etched on her face, spoke volumes.
His gut instinct, a powerful and often reliable guide, urged him to listen, to consider the possibility that everything they thought they knew about their suspect was wrong.
“Why?”
But they couldn’t just blindly believe her.
This was, after all, a serial murder suspect. If it was just words, there had already been countless testimonies.
They needed a solid alibi to exclude Jung Yong Joon as a suspect.
The caution, the ingrained skepticism, was a professional necessity.
While her conviction was compelling, it wasn’t enough.
They had been down this road before, with unreliable witnesses and misleading statements.
A serial murder investigation left no room for error, no space for blind faith.
They needed concrete proof, irrefutable evidence that could stand up to scrutiny.
As if reading Jung Yoon’s thoughts, the woman nodded with resolute eyes and typed another message.
While the woman focused on her message, Jeong Rok and Jung Yoon exchanged opinions with their eyes.
The silent communication between the two detectives was efficient, a testament to their years of working together. A flicker of shared resolve passed between them.
They needed answers, and this woman, despite her unusual arrival, seemed to hold them.
The quiet understanding, the shared determination, underscored the gravity of the situation.
Having generally agreed to trust the woman’s words, the two men waited for the message to be completed.
And the wait was very short.
The woman’s fingers flew across the screen, a flurry of motion that spoke of urgency and conviction.
The anticipation was palpable, a silent hum in the night air.
Each second felt like an eternity, as they waited for the next piece of this unexpected puzzle to reveal itself.
***
The woman turned her phone screen back towards the two men.
Still, with their suspicion not fully gone, the two quietly began reading the message that filled the screen.
[Because he was with me.]
After enough time had passed for Jung Yoon and Jeong Rok to read the message, the woman used her finger to swipe the screen, displaying a photo.
What the woman showed was none other than a picture of Jung Yong Joon and herself, sitting awkwardly.
She pointed to the time the photo was taken with her finger, looking between the two men with hopeful eyes.
The simple words, “Because he was with me,” coupled with the visual evidence, was a bombshell.
The photo, a seemingly mundane snapshot of two people, instantly shattered their preconceived notions.
The awkwardness of their pose, the faint smiles, lent an air of authenticity to the image.
Her hopeful eyes, fixed on them, pleaded for belief.
“We’ll verify all of this,” Jeong Rok said.
The woman nodded vigorously at Jeong Rok’s words.
Jeong Rok’s voice, firm but reassuring, conveyed the seriousness of their intentions.
The woman’s enthusiastic nod was a clear sign of her cooperation, her desperate desire to clear Jung Yong Joon’s name.
This was a critical turning point in their investigation, a sudden and unexpected shift in direction.
“Would you be able to come with us to the station? We need to verify it there. If it’s too late, we can pick you up tomorrow…”
Jung Yoon started, but before he could finish, the woman took back her phone and typed something quickly.
“You said you’d drive. I’ll go get that.”
Even though the woman hadn’t answered yet, Jeong Rok moved as if he’d heard her reply.
Jung Yoon didn’t object.
The promptness of Jeong Rok’s action, his pre-emptive movement, spoke to his assessment of the situation.
He recognized the urgency, the importance of seizing this opportunity while the witness was willing.
Jung Yoon, silently agreeing, let him go, already envisioning the next steps of their investigation.
[I can go now.]
The woman’s expression provided the answer.
Jung Yoon nodded, smiling slightly.
The woman sighed deeply in relief.
At Jung Yoon’s request, the woman showed the photo again, then held up her index finger and showed another picture.
Jung Yoon’s eyes took in Jung Yong Joon and the woman shyly smiling beside him.
Then he looked at the woman in front of him again, not just in the picture.
Her eagerness, her visible relief, was a powerful testament to her sincerity.
The second photo, another glimpse into their shared time, further solidified her claim.
Jung Yoon felt a profound sense of relief himself.
This wasn’t just a possible alibi; it was a strong one, presented with an earnestness that was difficult to dispute.
The definitive alibi he had so desperately wished for was right before his eyes.
The weight of the world, which had been pressing down on him, felt a little lighter.
This woman, a silent figure in the night, had unexpectedly delivered a crucial piece of the puzzle, a ray of hope in the dark labyrinth of their investigation.
The implications were immense: if Jung Yong Joon was innocent, then the real killer was still out there, a phantom waiting to be caught.
***
“Hey, you’ve worked hard… What? Who…?”
Jun Hyuk, who had been looking away from his monitor at the sound of people approaching, rose from his seat upon seeing the woman entering, guided by Jung Yoon.
His voice, initially casual, dissolved into bewildered questions as he processed the unexpected arrival.
The sudden appearance of a woman, especially one escorted by Jung Yoon, was clearly an anomaly in the late-night quiet of the police station.
“She came as a witness to provide an alibi for Jung Yong Joon. You can sit here.”
Jung Yoon pulled a chair next to his desk.
The woman sat in the spot Jung Yoon indicated and bowed her head to Jun Hyuk, who stood blankly opposite her.
Jun Hyuk, with eyes full of doubt, instinctively bowed in return.
Jung Yoon’s concise explanation cut through Jun Hyuk’s confusion, providing the necessary context.
The woman’s humble bow, despite the circumstances, spoke to her respectful nature, while Jun Hyuk’s bewildered but automatic return bow was a testament to ingrained Korean etiquette.
“First, we’ll need to hold onto your phone until our investigation is complete. Is that okay?”
Jung Yoon explained as slowly and clearly as possible, making eye contact with the woman.
If her intention was to prove Jung Yong Joon’s alibi, then verifying the phone, where those records would be, was an essential procedure.
Jung Yoon’s tone was calm and reassuring, yet firm.
He understood the sensitivity of the request, but also the necessity of it.
Her phone was key to verifying her claims, the digital footprint of her story.
He watched her closely, gauging her reaction, ensuring she understood the implications of her consent.
The woman immediately nodded.
She nodded very strongly twice, then requested paper and a pen from Jung Yoon.
Jung Yoon pulled out his diary, which was in the file holder on his desk, and opened it.
Then he took out a pen from the pen holder and placed it between the pages.
It was a pen with a Podori (Korean police mascot) character at the end.
Her immediate and emphatic agreement was a powerful indication of her sincerity.
The request for paper and pen, a preference for written communication, further highlighted her muteness and her determination to convey her story clearly.
Jung Yoon’s familiar diary, a repository of his own thoughts and notes, became a temporary conduit for her crucial testimony.
“Please have some of this.”
Jun Hyuk, who had been watching the two, brought warm water for the woman in the meantime.
The woman fiddled with the pen she’d received, then took a few sips of the warm water.
Jun Hyuk’s quiet thoughtfulness, providing a small comfort in a stressful situation, was a welcome gesture.
The woman’s nervous fiddling with the pen, her tentative sips of water, spoke to her underlying anxiety, despite her resolute demeanor.
“You can briefly explain the situation at the time. Anyway, even just confirming the photo and message you showed earlier should be enough to prove the alibi.”
Jung Yoon explained as calmly and kindly as possible.
The woman, who had been nervously fiddling with the teacup, hesitated, then grasped the pen and pulled the diary closer.
Jung Yoon’s gentle reassurance aimed to ease her anxieties, to encourage her to share her story openly.
He knew the confirmation of the photo and message would be vital, but the broader context she could provide might reveal even more.
[It’s all on my phone. Yong Joon was with me. I’m so sorry for telling you so late.]
The woman conveyed what she wanted to say in neater handwriting than before.
Her handwriting, clearer now that her initial anxiety had lessened, underscored the weight of her words.
The apology, her regret for the delay, was a poignant touch, revealing the burden she had been carrying.
[Yong Joon met me on the day the older woman passed away. He lied to his parents. They don’t like him meeting me.]
As she conveyed more of what she wanted to say, the woman became calmer.
With all the investigators watching with bated breath, the woman clearly organized and relayed what had happened with Yong Joon in writing.
The personal details, the explanation for Jung Yong Joon’s secrecy, added depth and credibility to her testimony.
The investigators, a silent, attentive audience, absorbed every word, every nuance of her written account. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly but surely falling into place.
[I wanted to say it from the beginning. That it wasn’t Yong Joon.]