I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

I settle into my car, decision made. I'm not leaving until I speak with Detective Heo. As the hours tick by, I watch the house, noting the movements behind curtains, the occasional silhouette passing by windows. The neighborhood grows quiet as night falls, and one by one, the lights in Heo's house go out.

Just as I'm considering whether to give up and come back another day, I hear the faint creak of a door opening. Alert, I sit up straighter, watching as an old man steps out onto the porch. Even in the dim streetlight, I can tell it's Heo.

I quickly get out of the car and approach, trying not to appear too eager.

"Detective Heo?" I call softly.

He looks at me, his eyes tired but sharp. "I got your message," he says, his voice gravelly with age. "Been watching you sit out here for hours. Felt guilty just letting you wait like that."

I'm taken aback by his frankness. "I appreciate you coming out, sir. I just have a few questions about-"

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. "Not out here. Come inside, but be quiet. My family's asleep."

As we enter the house, Heo leads me to a small study filled with books and old case files. He gestures for me to sit and then sinks into a worn armchair with a sigh.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation for the cold welcome," he begins. "A few years back, I was in the media, taking responsibility for some unsolved murder cases linked to a drug gang. Since then, my family's been harassed by the public. We've been avoiding the police and press ever since."

I nod, understanding dawning. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. I had no idea."

Heo waves off my apology. "Water under the bridge now. But it's why we're not exactly welcoming to unexpected police visits." He fixes me with a penetrating stare. "Now, what's so important that you'd wait hours outside an old man's house?"

I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. "It's about Lee Chunsik, sir. The cases he confessed to. Something doesn't add up, and I was hoping you could shed some light on it."

Heo's expression changes, a mix of surprise and what looks like... fear? He leans forward, his voice dropping to almost a whisper.

"Lee Chunsik? You're digging into that?" He shakes his head.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to say. "Detective Heo, there's something you should know. The reason this case is so important to me... Lee Chunsik confessed to murdering my parents."

Heo's eyes widen in shock. He stands abruptly, walks to a small cabinet, and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. As he pours, his hand trembles slightly.

"I'm sorry to hear that, son," he says, his voice gruff with emotion. He hands me a glass. "This calls for something stronger than tea."

I accept the drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. "There's more," I continue. "I recently learned that my father was undercover, working on a gang case. Senior Superintendent Choi told me."
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Heo nearly drops his glass. "Choi told you? Did he send you here?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm conducting my own investigation. Choi doesn't know I'm here."

Heo sinks back into his chair, taking a long sip of whiskey. "I see. And Lee Chunsik... I've seen him on the news. Confessed to multiple murders, didn't he?"

I nod, leaning forward. "That's right. Detective Heo, I know you were involved in the gang case, including my parents' murder. Anything you can tell me... anything at all that might help..."

Heo is quiet for a long moment, swirling the whiskey in his glass. When he speaks, his voice is low, cautious. "It was a complicated case. Lots of moving parts, lots of... pressure from above."

He looks at me, his eyes sharp despite his age. "What exactly do you want to know?"

I consider my words carefully. "I'm trying to understand what really happened. Lee's confession... something about it doesn't add up. And given my father's involvement in the gang case, I can't help but wonder if there's more to the story."

Heo nods slowly. "You're right to wonder. That case... it wasn't as clean-cut as the official reports make it out to be."

He takes another sip of whiskey, then sets the glass down with a soft clink. "Alright, I'll tell you what I know. But I warn you, this information... it could be dangerous. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

I meet his gaze steadily. "I'm sure. Whatever the truth is, I need to know it."

Heo takes a long sip of his whiskey, his eyes distant as if lost in memory. "We did catch someone," he says finally, his voice heavy. "We were about to reveal him to the press, but I stopped it. That's why I was forced into early retirement later."

My heart races. "You mean... you caught the real criminal who killed my parents?"

Heo shakes his head slowly, his expression grim. "No, son. That's not what I'm saying at all. What I'm telling you is that the police attempted to fabricate the result of the case. They were going to make up a criminal."

I feel like the wind's been knocked out of me. "What? How is that even possible?"

Heo sighs heavily. "It was a different time back then. That kind of... practice... it wasn't uncommon. The pressure to solve high-profile cases was immense, and sometimes...

sometimes corners were cut."

He leans forward, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "They found some evidence, but it wasn't enough. So they decided to force it to match one of the existing criminals in the system. They were going to pin it on him, close the case, and call it a day."

I struggle to process this information, my mind reeling. "But... but that's..."

"Wrong? Illegal? Absolutely," Heo nods grimly. "But it happened more often than you'd think. And in this case..." He pauses, seeming to steel himself for what he's about to say next. "In this case, it was Choi who was leading the fabrication."

The room seems to spin around me. Choi? The man who brought me into the unit, who seemed so determined to help me find the truth about my parents' murder... was actually involved in covering it up?

"I don't understand," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why would Choi…?"

Heo leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. "I understand this is difficult to believe. I don't expect you to take my word for it. But I'm telling you the truth, son."

He takes another sip of whiskey, his hand trembling slightly. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't waste an innocent person's life just to cover up the police's failures. That's why I stopped it. And I have no regrets, even if it cost me my career."

I sit there, stunned, trying to process this information. After a long moment, I manage to ask, "Do you... do you believe Lee Chunsik isn't the real killer?"

Heo sighs heavily, setting down his glass. "I don't know, and I'll never know for sure. The truth is, once you start down this road of fabrication and cover-ups, it becomes nearly impossible to separate fact from fiction. That's all I can tell you, son. The rest... well, that's for you to figure out."

I nod slowly, my mind reeling. "Thank you, Detective Heo. For your honesty, for... everything."

As I stand to leave, Heo catches my arm. "Be careful," he warns, his voice low. "Digging into this... it could be dangerous. More dangerous than you realize."

I nod again, unable to find words. As I step out into the cool night air, my thoughts are a jumbled mess. Everything I thought I knew about my parents' case, about Lee Chunsik, about the entire police force... it's all been called into question.

Walking to my car, I feel a strange mix of emotions. Part of me wants to dismiss Heo's words as the ramblings of a bitter ex-cop. But deep down, I know he was telling the truth. Or at least, his version of it.

As I drive through the quiet streets, my mind still reeling from Heo's revelations, a familiar voice echoes in my head.

"Well, well," Bundy drawls, his tone sardonic. "The stories about the Korean police are always so... interesting, aren't they? Corruption, cover-ups, fabricated evidence. It's like a poorly written crime novel."

I grip the steering wheel tighter, not in the mood for Bundy's commentary. "What do you want?" I mutter.

"Oh, nothing much," Bundy replies, his voice dripping with false innocence. "I'm just curious about what our intrepid detective plans to do with this... explosive information. Care to share?"

I sigh, knowing he won't leave me alone until I engage. "I'm going to continue digging," I say firmly. "There's more to this story, and I'm going to uncover it all."

"Ah, the relentless pursuit of truth," Bundy muses. "How noble. And potentially suicidal. You do realize you're not just up against a killer now, don't you? You're taking on an entire system."

"I know the risks," I snap back. "But I can't just let this go. Not now."

There's a pause, and when Bundy speaks again, his tone is uncharacteristically serious. "Well then, detective, I wish you luck. You're going to need it. Remember, in games like these, the pawns are usually the first to fall."

With that ominous parting shot, Bundy's presence fades, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.