The case

chap 23

### **Murder on the Bus**

The rain poured down in sheets, drumming against the windows of the bus as it wound its way through the narrow, deserted streets of the city. The night was thick with fog, and the dim lights inside the bus cast eerie shadows on the passengers’ faces. It was the last bus of the night, a late ride that Thanh and Mai had reluctantly decided to take after a long day of investigating a string of burglaries in a nearby district.

There were only a handful of passengers: a young woman with headphones, a middle-aged man reading a newspaper, an elderly lady clutching her handbag, and a teenager staring blankly out the window. The driver, an older man with tired eyes, seemed eager to complete his route and head home.

Thanh leaned back in his seat, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Just a few more stops," he murmured to Mai, who sat next to him. "Then we can finally call it a night."

Mai nodded, her gaze wandering over the other passengers. She noticed how quiet everyone was, the only sounds being the hum of the bus engine and the patter of rain. Something about the stillness made her uneasy, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Suddenly, the bus jerked to a halt. The passengers were thrown forward slightly, and the driver muttered a curse under his breath. "Sorry, everyone," he called out. "Looks like we’ve got a flat tire. I’ll have to pull over and take a look."

The bus rolled to a stop at the side of the road, the streetlights casting a pale glow over the wet pavement. The driver stepped out, pulling his jacket tighter around him as he went to inspect the tire.

Mai glanced at Thanh, who shrugged. "Just our luck," he said, pulling out his phone to check the time. "We should be home by now."

Minutes passed, and the passengers grew restless. The young woman with the headphones glanced up, looking around nervously. The elderly lady clutched her handbag even tighter, her knuckles white. The middle-aged man folded his newspaper and sighed.

Then, without warning, the lights inside the bus flickered and went out, plunging the interior into darkness. There was a collective gasp, followed by a few murmurs of confusion.

"Stay calm," Thanh said loudly, his voice cutting through the darkness. "The power might be out temporarily. The driver will be back soon."

But before anyone could respond, a scream pierced the air. It was the teenager, his voice high-pitched and filled with terror. "Someone’s dead!" he shouted, stumbling back from his seat. "Someone’s been killed!"

Panic erupted inside the bus. Passengers scrambled to get away from their seats, bumping into each other in the darkness. Thanh’s heart raced as he reached for the small flashlight he always carried in his pocket. He flicked it on and swept the beam across the bus, trying to see what had happened.

The light fell on the middle-aged man, slumped in his seat with a knife buried deep in his chest. Blood pooled around him, staining the floor. His newspaper had fallen to the ground, and his eyes stared lifelessly ahead.

Mai quickly moved to the front of the bus, trying to restore order. "Everyone, stay in your seats!" she commanded. "We need to figure out what happened. No one leaves until we have answers."

The passengers froze, their faces pale and frightened in the glow of Thanh’s flashlight. The young woman was trembling, tears streaming down her face. The elderly lady looked like she was about to faint. The teenager, still shaking, clung to the back of his seat.

Thanh knelt beside the dead man, checking for any signs of life, but it was clear he was gone. He then examined the knife—an ordinary kitchen knife, nothing distinctive about it. The wound was deep, and the attack had been sudden, leaving no time for the victim to defend himself.

"The killer must still be on the bus," Thanh said quietly, glancing at Mai. "There’s no way anyone could have gotten off without us noticing."

Mai nodded, her mind racing. "We need to keep everyone calm and figure out who did this. The driver might still be outside. We should check on him too."

Thanh stood up, addressing the passengers. "We’re both investigators," he said, trying to project calm authority. "We’re going to find out who did this, but we need everyone to cooperate. Please, stay in your seats and don’t touch anything."

Mai opened the bus door slightly, peering outside. The rain was still pouring, and the driver was nowhere in sight. "I’m going to check on him," she said, stepping out into the rain.

Thanh nodded, turning back to the passengers. "If anyone saw anything—anything at all—now’s the time to speak up."

The young woman shook her head, tears still flowing. "I didn’t see anything," she whispered. "I was listening to music. I didn’t hear a thing."

The elderly lady mumbled something under her breath, clutching her handbag even tighter. The teenager just shook his head, too terrified to speak.

Mai returned moments later, her clothes soaked through. "The driver’s gone," she said, her voice tense. "I found his jacket near the front of the bus, but no sign of him. It’s like he just disappeared."

Thanh’s mind raced. A murder on a bus in the middle of the night, the driver missing, and a handful of terrified passengers. The situation was growing more complicated by the minute.

"We need to search the bus," Mai said, her tone resolute. "There might be clues, or maybe the driver left something behind that could explain what’s going on."

Thanh agreed. "You take the front, I’ll check the back."

As they began their search, the tension inside the bus grew thicker. The passengers huddled together, their eyes darting around in fear. Outside, the rain continued to fall, the night growing darker and more foreboding.

As Thanh moved towards the back of the bus, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. The shadows seemed to move in the corners of his vision, and the silence was unnerving.

Suddenly, Mai called out from the front. "Thanh! Over here!"

Thanh hurried to the front, where Mai was crouched down, examining something on the floor. It was a small, bloodstained piece of paper, folded into a tight square.

"What is it?" Thanh asked, shining his flashlight on the paper.

Mai unfolded it carefully, revealing a message scrawled in shaky handwriting: "This is only the beginning."

A chill ran down Thanh’s spine. The message was clear—the killer wasn’t done yet.