Not every place is safe. Not everyone can be trusted
I stood frozen, my eyes glued to my wife’s body as it was just lowered down. Around me, red and blue lights from police cars flickered—the kind of lights no one ever wants to be surrounded by.
A firm hand landed on my shoulder, jolting me out of the storm of questions in my mind.
“Sir, we’re very sorry…” the officer said. “The door was locked from the inside, and there are no signs of forced entry. It appears she chose a way out for herself.”
I barely heard the rest. The noise in my head drowned everything out.
“It’s all done. Let’s head back to the station,” another officer said as he approached us. In his hand was a zip bag containing a rope, the knot still intact but loosened. It seemed to be what my wife had used to…
“Alright. Sir, could you come with us to the station to give a statement? It won’t take long,” the first officer continued, his hand still resting on my shoulder.
The statement process went quickly. That night, I had worked late due to overtime—my coworkers could confirm it. They let me go home to rest, but the place that was once a warm home had now become a prison for my own mind.
Why would she do this? Just a week ago, we were planning a hiking trip together. Or had she still not overcome the pain of losing our child? Did I miss something? Did I say something wrong?
Those questions circled endlessly in my mind. I lost sleep for days, searching for answers in the void.
…
A week after the funeral, I sat absentmindedly holding the rope the police had returned after closing the case. This rope was supposed to be for our hiking trip. Now, it was just a noose with a double knot that I was about to use to…
Wait.
My wife didn’t know how to tie knots like this. She was always clumsy with ropes and cords. There was no way she could have tied something this secure.
That night, I rushed to the police station with the rope, hoping it was evidence of a third party breaking in.
At the station, I met the same officer as before.
“Look—my wife couldn’t have tied this knot. Someone must have snuck in!” I said urgently, desperate to bring justice to her.
“That’s very useful information. In that case, it’s likely a third party broke into the house and committed the crime. If they had been just a bit more careful, they might have gotten away with it. Thank you for your cooperation—we’ll reopen the case and investigate further,” the officer replied.
Two days later, while I was cleaning the house, I received a message from him:
“I’ve found a lead on the culprit, but I can’t discuss it at the station. Meet me in the alley near your house tonight.”
Why couldn’t he talk at the station? Could the culprit be someone within the force?
Despite my doubts and unease, I went. When I arrived, the officer was already there, in plain clothes, a cigarette between his lips.
“Good to see you. I assume you got my message. I hope you understand—I had my reasons for asking you to meet here,” he said.
“As long as we can get justice for my wife. What’s your lead?” I pressed.
“Do you remember the officer who carried the evidence behind me? I asked him to look further into the rope, but the next day, it mysteriously disappeared. It seems he might be involved…” the officer explained, exhaling a stream of smoke.
“Then why not bring him in as a suspect at the station? Losing a key piece of evidence is obviously suspicious. Why meet me here?” I asked.
“Because I need to be more careful than him. The station isn’t safe—for us.”
The moment he finished speaking, a rope slipped from behind and tightened around my neck.
“Remember me?” a familiar voice said. Though I couldn’t see his face, I knew it was the other officer.
“Why not cooperate one last time and let us finish the case?” he added.
“That night, we were a bit drunk,” the officer in front of me took another drag from his cigarette. “If she hadn’t been sitting outside waiting for you in that short dress, things might’ve been different. We couldn’t leave any witnesses behind. Sorry.”
That’s when I realized all the details I had overlooked. There was no report of any neighbor calling the police—meaning I should have been the one to find my wife first. And more importantly, back at the station, that officer had said, “If they had been just a bit more careful…” Why did he already know there was more than one person before any investigation?
In the end, it was too late. My vision blurred from lack of oxygen. I no longer had the strength to resist.
Before everything went dark, I heard the officer’s final words:
“Not every place is safe. Not everyone can be trusted.”