The Mirror Says You're The Murderer

Fifteen years ago, my parents-in-law were cut into pieces. My wife and I spent years searching for the killer.

One day, I came back from the market and found that the neighbor’s family had been murdered in the same way.

At the crime scene, I saw the neighbor’s face in the mirror.

I rushed out and chased him.

I was just about to catch him when my wife stopped and handcuffed me with her own hands.

“Drop the act. You’re the killer!”

One morning, I came back from the market and saw a crowd gathered downstairs in the compound.

More than a dozen police cars were parked at the entrance. The neighbors stood around and were all talking at the same time.

“Mr. Lane and his family died horribly. The old lady who was bedridden was chopped into pieces!”

“Mr. Walker, you’re finally back. The neighbor’s family was slaughtered. Blood flowed down the second floor all the way to the first. It was terrifying.”

Chopped into pieces? Hearing those words again after so many years, my heart skipped a beat.

I rushed up to the second floor. Police tape sealed off the unit across from mine. My wife, Rebecca Parker, stood there with a group of officers collecting evidence. A forensic doctor examined the bodies. I took out my badge, then put on gloves. I stepped over the tape and entered the scene to inspect the bodies myself. The more I looked, the more shocked I became.

The cuts were clean. A mirror sat on the coffee table.

It was the same method as fifteen years ago!

Fifteen years ago, my parents-in-law were killed during a home invasion. Their bodies were cut up. The cuts were clean. Their heads had been placed on the coffee table, and a palm-sized mirror had been placed beside them. They had been drained of their blood. The scene had been so brutal that no one could bear to look at it.

Rebecca was deeply shaken after that. Her hair turned white overnight. We spent fifteen years investigating the case. We grew middle-aged, but we still had no answers.

I wiped my tears. The method was the same. It was very likely the same killer striking again.

The mirror on the table reflected the crowd gathered on the first floor.

One of them was a man with a scar on his face. The more I looked at him, the more familiar he seemed. It was my neighbor, Warren Lane.

Then who was the body?

I rushed downstairs. I pushed through the crowd on the first floor. Warren tried to run. He looked panicked. His reaction made me even more certain that he was involved in the case.

He might have been the one who killed my parents-in-law fifteen years ago!

“Make way. I’m making an arrest!”

More people gathered. I kept losing distance to Warren. I shouted again for people to move aside. Warren heard the noise and looked back. He ran even faster. Before long, he reached the entrance of the compound. I ran along the wall where there were fewer people. Then I took out a flare gun and fired it into the sky.

Warren tripped over a stone and fell. I saw a bullet scar on his arm.

It was him! When I chased the killer back then, I shot him in the left shoulder. It was the same spot.

I thought of my parents-in-law. I thought of Rebecca’s pain. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to run faster. The killer I had been hunting for fifteen years was right in front of me. I was finally going to bring him to justice. I was not on duty today. I did not bring my gun or handcuffs. That made the arrest difficult.

I was about to catch Warren when a car stopped at the entrance of the compound. Warren quickly opened the door and climbed into the back seat. Then, he tried to kick me away.

I grabbed his leg tightly and refused to let go.

I could not let him get into that car. If I let him escape this time, it would be much harder to catch him again.

The car started moving. Warren slammed the door against my head, but I used my elbow to block the impact. The car sped up. My knee scraped the ground and bled, but I still did not let go.

At a turn, I used the momentum and pulled Warren down with me.

We rolled onto the main road. Warren punched me in the nose. I did not stop to wipe the blood. I grabbed his wrist and tried to pin him down. Warren twisted his body and slammed into my stomach.

It had to be him. The killer. This was the same old injury from when the killer stabbed me years ago. Only the real killer would know this detail. We fought on the ground. I was no longer young. I did not know how long I could keep going.

Just as I was about to lose strength, Rebecca arrived with her team.

I felt a brief relief. Then, I saw her bend down and put handcuffs on me.

“The killer is you!”