Love's So Contagious

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Mew's phone buzzed. He immediately recognized Wanarat's ringtone. Wanarat wasn't officially part of the Incident Response team; he was the Public Affairs Officer. In Wanarat's eyes, he was the one who had to clean up the messes left behind by the Incident Response Team. Mew had to admit, Wanarat wasn't entirely wrong.

"Hey, Wanarat."

"I was going to give you a hard time about my phone blowing up since your press conference yesterday, but you sound exhausted. I'll let it slide for now." Mew could almost hear Wanarat's sympathetic expression. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm hanging in there," Mew replied wearily. "This case has me on edge, but I'll figure it out."

Wanarat let out a grunt and took a sip from his cup. Mew hoped it was coffee, but couldn't be sure. "This case is definitely strange," Wanarat admitted. "That doctor of yours seems knowledgeable though, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," Mew replied, waving his hand dismissively. "He's an expert in his field. He's worked with the CID and even teaches at the medical school. Infectious diseases are his specialty. He even gave me a great book on the subject."

"He gave you a book, huh?" Wanarat chuckled. "Well, that's something. So, what progress have you made so far?"

"We're still trying to figure out the motive behind all this," Mew explained. "The perpetrator isn't saying anything and they're releasing the virus—or bacteria, as Gulf corrected me—in unexpected locations. It's really bizarre. Usually, terrorists would claim responsibility, but even Isis isn't taking credit for this one."

"Those jerks will take credit for any little mishap that happens to you if they get the chance." Wanarat took another noisy sip. Yeah, that definitely wasn't coffee. Mew winced and wondered if he should speak up to someone. "Well, they probably couldn't even locate Yala Area on a map, so maybe you're approaching this from the wrong angle."

"What do you mean?" Mew shifted his position. Wanarat used to be a great investigator before he let alcohol take over.

"You're trying to figure out who would have the motive to commit such a heinous act. You'll drive yourself crazy that way, kid. They'll stick you behind a desk and have you answering phones all day. I know the old-fashioned way of doing things, the police instinct, hasn't been too popular lately, but damn it Suppasit, you've got the best gut feeling out of any ten guys from your generation. What's it telling you?"

Mew clenched his teeth and bit the inside of his cheek. "It's telling me that there aren't many people in the area who would have both access to the virus and the motivation. The pharmaceutical companies have strict controls on the bacteria, and their employees aren't involved in the investigation."

"That's correct," Wanarat's voice exuded pride. "In cases like this, with a high number of casualties, the perpetrator always remains close to the investigation. It doesn't matter what their motivation is or what they claim it to be. The killer always stays nearby, even if they don't directly involve themselves. They have this strange compulsion to witness the aftermath. It's not something that normal people do. It's what distinguishes us from them. Take a close look at the individuals involved in the case. It's likely to be someone who appears more helpful than expected."

Mew yawned and stretched his neck. "Everyone at Rathanburi Medical seems to be unusually helpful."

"I never said it would be easy, Mewwie." Wanarat chuckled. "Get to work, and I'll forward you the most interesting parts of your fan mail. Let's start with this one. It arrived today at ten-forty a.m. Why was nothing done about the meningitis situation until after the third incident? Oh, right. Because it only affected people in jail. Rot in hell, bitch. And that's just the one I feel comfortable reading out loud."