Chapter 6. Trash digging
"No, Boss, he doesn't know."
Before Theodore could speak, Bernie clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away, laughing nervously.
Wenner stood rooted for a few seconds, then shook his head and walked into his office.
He felt like these two were hiding something from him, but now wasn't the time to delve deeper—he had more pressing work to handle.
The frequent reprimands lately made him sense trouble brewing. Rumors circulated that the city was discussing budget cuts to the police department, and if passed, the Homicide Team, with its recent string of failures, would inevitably bear the brunt. They might even face complete dissolution.
Wenner had deep feelings for the Homicide Team. He'd been there for over a decade, and most of its members were trained by him personally.
They were family for fuck's sake at this point. He would absolutely not allow the team to be cut or disbanded—not on his watch.
On the other side, Bernie pulled Theodore into the interrogation room and whispered urgently, "Did Diane's ghost tell you something?"
"You can't just march up to the Boss and tell him that. What happens when he asks for proof? If you can't produce it, he'll think you're playing him. You understand?"
Theodore considered this for a moment, then spread the crime scene photos across the table and spoke in low tones.
"The doors and windows are undamaged, with no signs of forced entry. This indicates the killer knew Victim 1—Diane. She let them in through the front door willingly."
"There are apples on the table and homemade cake scattered on the floor, suggesting Diane was entertaining someone. But their conversation soured, and a conflict erupted."
"Victim 1 has pressure marks on her shoulders and excessive stab wounds to her chest—classic emotional release. The killer's approximate height can be inferred from the angle of the pressure marks and stab trajectory."
"Victim 1's jaw was deliberately damaged, which symbolizes 'depriving her of the right to speak.'"
"The excessive damage to Victim 1's face and chest, compared to the single clean stab wound to Victim 2's chest, represents displaced hatred—a textbook case."
"The hastily wiped blood footprints and the abandoned fruit knife—the murder weapon—both indicate an emotional crime committed by someone with weak anti-detection awareness."
Bernie paced the small interrogation room twice, peering through the window into the main office. The team members had transformed into busy worker bees, scurrying between desks in a scene of controlled chaos.
He picked up the photos again, examining them with fresh eyes before finally asking, "Are you absolutely sure about this?"
Theodore nodded without hesitation.
Bernie gathered the photos and leaned closer. "Listen carefully, Theodore."
"You come with me to see the Boss, and you do the explaining. If I interrupt you, stop talking immediately. If he asks you anything—anything at all—just say I told you. Understand?"
He tapped the photos with emphasis. "No matter what the Boss asks, push it onto me. Remember that."
Theodore studied Bernie's serious expression. "It's not that dire. At worst, I'll just transfer back to the Patrol Department."
Bernie shot back impatiently, "Are you planning to tell him you heard all this from your ghost friend?"
"You said that, not me," Theodore countered, following Bernie toward the door.
When the two knocked and entered Wenner's office, he had just hung up the phone. He looked up expectantly. "What is it?"
Bernie cleared his throat and said vaguely, "We... found a lead."
Wenner's pen froze mid-stroke, and he looked up sharply.
Theodore stepped forward, laying out the photos methodically. He explained his analysis, then after a brief pause, added, "I have some preliminary thoughts about the killer's identity."
Wenner shot Bernie a meaningful look. "Go on."
Theodore delivered his profile with quiet confidence: "The killer is a white female, between 15 and 20 years old, and was personally acquainted with Victim 1."
"The killer is physically strong—at least strong enough to overpower Victim 1."
"The killer harbored a grudge against Victim 1, but Victim 1 was completely unaware of this animosity."
"The killer has no medical or professional background."
"The killer lives in the same community as the victim."
Finally, he stated with absolute certainty, "The killer is Anna—the daughter of the victim in case 600403."
Behind him, Bernie wanted to intervene but didn't dare, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.
After Theodore finished, he met Wenner's gaze calmly, awaiting his decision.
He appreciated Bernie's protective instincts, but he couldn't hide behind someone else. Besides, he had complete confidence in his abilities.
Wenner's frown deepened. "What evidence do you have?"
Bernie quickly interjected, "Not yet. Theodore and I discussed this thoroughly, and we both believe this theory has strong merit."
Wenner glanced at him, then focused on Theodore. "How do you prove your hypothesis is correct?" He emphasized the word your.
Theodore's voice was steady. "Arrest Anna. Bernie and I will interrogate her—she'll confess."
For Theodore, this was absolute certainty. For Wenner, it was a dangerous gamble.
Play it safe and likely fail to solve the case on deadline, or take the risk and use this case to reverse the Homicide Team's declining fortunes?
Wenner chose a middle path. "I need evidence." He reached for the phone, dialing as he spoke. "Even one piece—one shred of evidence that supports your theory."
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Leaving the supervisor's office, Bernie asked, "So what now? Can you ask Diane to appear and speak to the Boss directly?"
Theodore studied Bernie's face carefully, unable to determine if he was joking or serious, so he played along. "I asked. She said no."
Bernie chuckled dryly, then swept half the documents from his desk onto Theodore's. "Alright, the Boss has heard your lead. Now it's time to earn your keep."
The papers were Diane and Doyle's medical records, insurance files, bank statements, personal correspondence, tax returns, and other documents.
The team had divided into two main groups: one responsible for collecting and photocopying the victims' documents.
They contacted banks, hospitals, and social security departments, and other agencies to request relevant records, then retrieved, copied, and distributed them to every team member.
The second group studied the documents already collected, looking for patterns and connections.
The entire main office buzzed with controlled urgency; everyone was busy as if preparing for war.
Theodore pushed the documents back toward Bernie and signaled he was ready for fieldwork.
Bernie looked puzzled. "What exactly are you planning to do?"
Theodore rummaged through supplies, pulling out two pairs of rubber gloves and several evidence bags. "Going through trash."
"Trash diving?"
Theodore nodded, emptied the cold coffee from Bernie's mug, and slipped it into an evidence bag.
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The car stopped in front of Brian's house under Theodore's direction. After getting out, Theodore handed Bernie a pair of gloves. "Let's get started."
Bernie stared at the trash can dubiously. "We're really doing this?"
Theodore had already pulled on his gloves and was tipping over the can. "Of course. Move it."
As he spoke, he glanced toward the house, catching a glimpse of a dark shadow moving past an upstairs window.
Theodore turned his attention back to the task, completely emptying the trash onto the ground before squatting down to search through it.
Bernie grimaced but obediently squatted on the opposite side, turning his head to ask, "You need to tell me what we're looking for, right?"
Theodore glanced at the front door again and whispered, "We're not looking for anything specific. Just rummage through it, then put everything back."
"What?"
Bernie was lost. Bernie was confused. Bernie didn't understand a damn thing.
Theodore stood up, brushing off his knees. "Alright, put it back."
The two began returning the scattered trash to the bin.
This proved more challenging than expected. Even ignoring the strain on their backs from constantly squatting and standing, the visual and olfactory assault alone was punishing.
Both men were experienced officers who had prepared themselves mentally, yet the search remained genuinely difficult.
"There really is everything imaginable in here," Bernie muttered, using a stick to lift a torn hood.
Theodore agreed grimly. "Want to know a family's secrets? Go through their trash." As he spoke, he pulled out an evidence bag and carefully collected a pile of ashes mixed with fabric scraps.
He hadn't expected such a fortunate discovery!
Bernie leaned over to examine the contents. "What is that?"
Theodore stood up, sealed the evidence bag, and handed it to Bernie. "If you were the killer, what's the first thing you'd do after committing murder?"
Bernie thought for a moment. "Dispose of the clothes and weapon. Plan an escape route."
Theodore shook his head. "How exactly would you dispose of them? Throw them away? Where? Based on the crime scene, the victim's blood would have splattered all over the killer. Where could you dump such clothes without drawing attention? Burn them? What would you tell Sitt if he asked why you were burning clothes?"
Bernie opened his mouth, then closed it. "You still think Anna is our killer."
Theodore didn't answer directly. Instead, he said, "The most rational solution is to hide the evidence and quietly dispose of it after the heat dies down."
He helped return the last of the trash to the can, took back the evidence bag, and straightened up. "Now we go get our proof."