Chapter 12 – Conflict
1140 Words
“2:00 A.M., at the crime scene.”
“The preliminary autopsy report just came in. Time of death is estimated at roughly four to five hours ago — around 8 to 9 P.M. The first wound was indeed to the groin, but the fatal blow wasn’t the throat — it was to the chest, near the heart.
The victim showed no signs of resistance; the killer struck fast, without warning. And one more thing — the victim was terrified before death, as if he’d seen or experienced something horrifying.”
Chief Long swallowed hard, then kept reading aloud:
“All signs indicate the victim was completely powerless against the attacker. Every wound suggests a killer with a clear purpose — cold, calculated, and professional.”
Superintendent Minh furrowed his brows, re-reading the report several times before glancing at Detective Long.
“Exactly as you described earlier. Don’t tell me you did it, huh? How else could you be so precise?” Minh said with a smirk.
Long’s eyes went wide.
“Are you insane? What kind of murderer points out his own methods to the police afterward? I’m starting to think you bought that fancy title of yours, didn’t you?”
Minh burst out laughing and gave Long a hearty slap on the chest.
“Relax, I’m kidding. No need to bite my head off.”
Long rubbed his chest, sighing.
“Jokes like that shave years off my life. Just admit I was right.”
Minh waved dismissively.
“Enough nonsense. I earned this rank the hard way — through blood, sweat, and near-death. Don’t lump me in with those corrupt parasites. One day I’ll drag every last one of them into the light and give justice back to the people who actually serve this country.”
Long slung an arm around Minh’s shoulder, his tone half-teasing, half-serious.
“Relax, class rep. As long as I’m around, even if I have to live on salt and rice, I’ll help you clean this rotten world.”
Minh sighed.
“You can barely take care of yourself, and you’re talking about saving the world? Enough nostalgia — let’s get back to work.”
He turned toward the team, giving orders to wrap up the scene.
Long stayed behind for a moment, watching his old friend’s back disappear into the flashing red-blue haze.
That back — broad, steady, but somehow heavy with loneliness — was the same one that had shielded him back when they were kids.
“Class rep… why must you carry it all alone?”
---
“Three days after the murder.”
Bao, Thien, and Mr. Bay were summoned to the station for questioning.
According to local witnesses, all fingers pointed toward the three of them.
“How many damn times do I have to say it? I told you — I didn’t kill anyone, and neither did these two kids!”
Mr. Bay slammed his fist onto the officer’s desk.
The wooden desk rattled under each strike, the small plastic nameplate reading Nguyen Thanh Tam toppling to the floor.
Officer Tam didn’t get angry. Instead, he calmly picked it up, set it back in place, and said gently:
“Uncle Bay, please, calm down and hear me out. The last time we called you in was because several locals reported that you’d had a dispute with the victim’s group.”
He paused, then gestured toward the holding room, where a handful of thugs sat handcuffed.
“Today, the investigation division has brought in everyone connected to the case — including that gang, you, and the two young men here. Over there are others who also had conflicts with the victim before his death.”
Tam clasped his hands together on the desk, his voice turning more formal.
“You’re considered a person of interest due to that earlier altercation. That’s why we’re taking official statements now.”
Mr. Bay glared straight into his eyes.
“Listen here, kid. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because I know your father. I already said I didn’t kill that punk. He harassed my daughter, so I chased him off — that’s it!”
Tam grimaced awkwardly.
“Uncle, please, don’t make this harder for me. It’s just procedure.”
“Procedure?” Mr. Bay snapped, voice rising. “You people keep dragging me in here for your so-called procedure! I was here two days ago, gave you my statement. Now again? What, you think I’ve got nothing better to do? I had to close the shop two days in a row for this circus! You know I’ve got mouths to feed, right?”
Tam kept his tone calm, almost pleading.
“Uncle, I promise, this is the last time. Once we clear your name, you won’t have to come in again.”
Mr. Bay crossed his arms, still defiant.
“This time better be the last, or I’ll charge your department for harassment. Ask your questions quick so I can go open the shop.”
“Yes, Uncle. Please bear with us a little longer. This case is serious — the superintendent himself will be leading the questioning once he’s done with his meeting.”
Tam exhaled in relief. He’d grown up next door to Mr. Bay; the old man had carried him around as a baby. Even now, that bond made Tam uneasy around his temper.
---
Thirty minutes later.
Superintendent Minh and Detective Long emerged from the briefing room.
This time, Long had official authorization to assist, granting him full access to the investigation.
“This one’s messy,” Long muttered. “I thought we’d nail the killer fast, but every lead loops back to nothing — like someone designed it that way. And get this — not a single damn security camera in that alley. The ones nearby only point at private yards.”
“Patience,” Minh replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ve got no witnesses, but every suspect’s here now. Last time, my subordinates took the statements — messy, incomplete. This time, you and I handle it ourselves. We’ll get something.”
Minh glanced across the holding area.
An old man, two boys, half a dozen dyed-hair delinquents who ran with the victim, and a handful of stone-faced young men. He shook his head.
“So many suspects, so little time.”
He turned toward Tam.
“Tam, prep the files for the interrogation rooms. Split them by groups. You, me, and Long will take turns questioning each one.”
“Yes, sir,” Tam replied promptly.
He rushed to organize the case files, distributing them across three separate rooms.
Soon, officers began escorting each suspect in, one group at a time —
rotating shifts, cross-checking every statement…
searching for the one lie that would finally crack the truth open.
- Writer
