The Missing Link

014. Hematomystery

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DETECTIVE INSPECTOR GEORGE FERRER pulled a bundle of photographs from his blue, long-sleeved shirt, the bunch was sealed in cellophane. He laid them out on the table, and Raine and Zane leaned in, taking their usual seats.

The images revealed the victim—the man identified as the suspect in his wife’s murder. One photograph displayed his ID card, retrieved from his black leather wallet. Another, a grainy still from a security camera, captured him mere hours before his death. A third image showed the silencer lying on the floor, discovered during the police search of the house. There was also a picture of their beige-coloured home. The remaining five images detailed the grim specifics of the crime scene.

“Another!” gasped Zane.

“Yes, and like the others, his heart was taken,” replied DI Ferrer.

“Another man, the second since the first, the fifth victim,” Zane added. “What does the killer want with them anyway? What does he do with the victims’ hearts?”

“Tell us what you’ve found out, Inspector,” Raine said, her fingers clasped, two index fingers pushed toward each other while the others remained down, directing her hand towards him.

As DI Ferrer spoke, the room shifted in Raine’s mind, transforming into the scene from one of the photographs—the victim’s modest, one-storey home. With each detail the inspector revealed, the atmosphere morphed, as though they were witnessing the events unfold in real time.

In the bedroom one early morning on August 13, the couple clashed, their voices raised in a heated quarrel. “We will never come back here, you demon!” shouted the wife, Andrea Rivera, a large black bag slung over her shoulder.

“I told you I’m not cheating on you!” protested the husband, thirty-five-year-old Salvador ‘Val’ Rivera. “I love you, Andrea! That’s not a lie, and you know it! I would never cheat on you!”

“Then why is there a woman in your bed this morning? Don’t call me a liar!” Andrea shouted. “Why were you sleeping in the same bed in your boss’s guest room?”

As anger surged within him, Val slapped his wife’s cheeks, leaving them pink. “You’ve really changed!” she retorted, and at that moment, Val snapped.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but Andrea, tears streaming down her face, turned and walked away. “Andrea, I didn’t cheat! Don’t you trust me?”

Raine snapped her fingers, and suddenly, the two figures she had conjured paused. “When did this fighting happen? Does it occur often?”

“Neighbours say Mrs. Rivera often stays away from her husband ever since he was promoted from gardener to driver for a wealthy family in the city,” DI Ferrer replied. “The fight I’m referring to was the last one before Mrs. Rivera’s friend arrived to check on her, only to find Val inside their house, drinking beer.”

“This woman Mrs. Rivera mentioned—who is she? Have you interviewed her?” Raine asked. “What was her statement?”

“It turns out she was related to one of the women who came to the morgue for the first victim of the serial killer,” DI Ferrer explained. “She stated that both Val and she got drunk at a party hosted by the family he worked for during a debut celebration. They didn’t realize they had slept in the same room but claimed nothing happened. Mrs. Rivera found them asleep in the guest room when she looked for her husband, who hadn’t come home.”

“Now, what is her relationship with the first victim?” Zane inquired. “It was Gabriel Chavez, right?”

“The woman who fell asleep with Val was actually having a secret affair with Mr. Chavez,” the inspector replied.

“So, it was a toxic relationship between a woman who gets easily jealous and a man with a terrible… truly terrible temper,” Raine noted. “Goodness, what is happening in this world?”

The next scene unfolded in her mind as Val approached his wife’s house, the images materializing before her as the detective inspector spoke of their theories based on the evidence they found so far. He appeared to be seeking her forgiveness, but she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him. His temper erupted, and in a fit of rage, he retrieved his gun fitted with a silencer-the very weapon later seen in the photographs—and shot his wife.

Once his temper subsided, guilt flooded over Val. He grabbed the gun again, this time choosing to draw attention to himself by firing a shot into the wall, foregoing the silencer. It was as if he was the one who left the message for anyone who might discover it—he could no longer bear the weight of his conscience.

He placed the gun in his wife’s right hand in haste, then used a rope to escape into the backyard forest, hoping to avoid being seen by anyone.

“Can’t you sense it? Something or someone might be forcing him to do it,” Raine said as the scene paused before her once more. “Who gave him the gun? Is it registered?”

“An illegal firearm, according to the results from when it was found in his wife, the nurse’s possession,” DI Ferrer replied.

“Who might be controlling him? The family he works for?” Zane asked. “Could it be the woman he slept with that night? Pardon me for all the questions, Inspector, but what was she even doing at that party you mentioned?”

“The Monteverde family was interviewed, and they have no motive to kill Andrea or even their driver. They’re philanthropists with no history of crime,” DI Ferrer replied. “As for the woman, Ms. Kyla Deniega, she has no connection to Mr. And Mrs. Rivera. She was only present at the debut party for the Monteverdes’ first child because she is the debutante’s godmother.”

“Is she using drugs? What about Mr. Rivera?” Zane queried, his background in health finally showing—one of the reasons Raine had approved him as her partner.

“Well, Ms. Deniega tested negative for drugs during the interrogation,” replied the detective inspector. “However, Mr. Rivera’s tests showed the presence of drugs. The only downside is that the substance was injected just moments before his death.”

“Three days after his wife died, what else have you discovered regarding the evidence?” Raine asked. “Have you discussed this with the others?”

“They’re currently pursuing leads on the recent murder of Mr. Chavez,” the inspector replied.

“Mr. Chavez?” Zane asked. “I’m sorry, but there are just so many names flying around.”

“The first victim of the serial killer,” DI Ferrer clarified. “I’ll consult my cousin before adding more names to the list. I’m becoming quite confused with all the names and photographs plastered on our walls as well.”

“Continue,” Raine urged.

The scene before Raine shifted to the dark interior of Val’s house, where he was left alone. Witnesses reported that no lights were on at night, and they dared not enter, knowing his reputation for a bad temper. He was only manageable while working for the Monteverdes, where he could keep his anger in check.

The Monteverdes noted that he hadn’t shown up for work. Over the phone, he claimed he couldn’t come in because he wasn’t feeling well. Three days later, Mr. Monteverde visited Val’s house to check on him, but it was he who stumbled upon the freshly spilled blood. Near the doorway lay Mr. Rivera, dead, with the window on the right side of the living room wide open.

“The Nueva Aurora Police is once again asking for help privately. You’re lucky you convinced me to join the crime scene investigators; otherwise, this could be a real mess for you,” Raine said, swiping away the mental scene with a quick flick of her finger. “The only issue now is Zane, who’s here eavesdropping and soaking up clues from the investigations.”

“May I remind you that you recommended him to me because you wanted an assistant?” DI Ferrer replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I do need an assistant. It’s your fault for convincing me to join the investigators when you knew I was content being a freelance problem solver,” Raine shot back.

“Anyway, his body was taken to the morgue for further examination. The results only arrived today, and the body has already been buried,” he reported.

“Why did it take so long to get the results? It’s been twenty days since August 16, when that incident supposedly occurred, especially since I arrived here on August 13,” Zane asked, glancing at his phone’s calendar.

“Welcome to reality, Mr. Nuñez,” Raine replied. “It’s unfortunate that the government often prioritizes those with powerful names in society.”

Raine took out her own phone and opened the news, confirming her hypothesis that accidents and kidnappings involving wealthy individuals had kept the authorities busy lately.

“However, I agree that the delayed results are also due to the lack of equipment we have,” the inspector added. “Be thankful it didn’t take two months or more.”

“Instead of the mismatch between Mr. Rivera and that lady… Ms…” Raine began, the name hovering on the tip of her tongue.

“Deniega,” DI Ferrer supplied.

“Instead of the mismatch between Mr. Rivera and Ms. Deniega, what strong link have you found?” Raine asked.

“No link, and the tracking patterns were destroyed,” he replied with a sigh.

“Let’s refresh everything, shall we?” Raine snapped.

“The first three murders were women and followed a pattern of 35 days. Then there was a young high school girl who claimed she was a failed victim of the killer,” Inspector Ferrer explained. “That same night, the killer struck again, this time with just a 14-day interval after the last victim. Three days later, on August 16, Mr. Salvador Rivera became the fifth victim, and his death was successful.”

“Finally, a challenge!” Raine beamed. “It’s indeed an early Christmas gift for us.”

“What?” Zane snapped, his brow furrowed.

“Oh, sorry. I was talking to myself,” Raine replied.

“I hope this doesn’t stretch into Christmas at all. I don’t want another round of restless nights,” DI Ferrer said.

“What are the theories so far, sir?” Zane asked.

“Well, there’s the possibility of a psychopath doctor, a resurgence of Jack the Ripper, involvement from a secret society, foreign sabotage, and, of course, the famous theory of aswangs,” the inspector replied.

“Secret society, huh?” Zane said, almost chuckling at the thought.

“You find it more amusing than the theory of aswangs?” Raine asked.

“Look at you two bickering. What more can this quarrel lead to within my team?” the inspector remarked.

“Actually, have you considered that this could be the work of multiple individuals?” Zane suggested.

“Elaborate,” Raine said, leaning in.

“There was a pattern in the first three murders, as you both mentioned. But what if the fourth or fifth victims were the work of others inspired by this alleged serial killer?” Zane proposed.

“We’ve considered that possibility as well!” DI Ferrer replied. “But it’s still under further investigation.”

“Speaking of investigations,” Raine said, leaning toward the television stand to retrieve a red envelope from the center table where the photographs lay.

“What is that? Is it related to the heart stealer, too?” DI Ferrer asked, leaning closer as Raine slowly unfolded the paper.

“Someone left this in our mailbox. No sender name, no recipient name, just the address: Luna Residences, Liberty Street,” Raine explained.

“I think… I think I know what that symbol is,” Zane said, pointing at the symbol Raine had shown to the inspector. “I researched it yesterday.”

“Do tell, Mr. Nuñez,” Raine urged.

“It turns out it’s Baybayin, one of the pre-colonial writing systems used by early Filipinos. The term comes from the Tagalog root word baybay, meaning ‘to spell,’” Zane explained. “If I remember correctly from high school, that symbol represents the number six.”

“What is this red substance?” Detective Inspector Ferrer asked.

“It’s blood,” Raine replied. “I already sent a sample to your younger sister, and I hope it reveals the identity behind this hematomystery.”

“I have a bad feeling about that,” Zane said. “Perhaps it would be wise to monitor the people in this vicinity.”

“I agree,” Raine replied. “The next victim might be from this very building. It’s hunting for something. I can’t say who it might be, but there’s a high probability that the killer will strike sooner or later.”