Amélie startled, hitting her head on the lamp. With prominent eyes on her pale face and rapid breath, she surveyed the room.

She had forgotten the window open, and the gray daylight filtered through the curtains, illuminating the room. The white quilt still covered the king-size bed, and the pillows remained in place.

Feeling her heart racing, she buried her fingers in her dense, wavy hair, then turned off the deafening alarm beep. Nausea churned her stomach as she realized it had all been just a nightmare.

Amélie was still in her apartment, alone.

However, the distressing sensation from the dream had taken root in her gut. It was different from the usual dreams; Hannah hadn't appeared to haunt her with Yan's past choice, but Amélie felt like she was drowning, unable to breathe, much like when she dreamed of her cousin.

She breathed through her mouth several times until her breathing normalized. With a low groan, she rubbed her temples, only then noticing the yellow post-it note stuck about three inches above her left eyebrow. The shape of the notebook keys had left marks on her right cheek. The printed papers from the previous night were scattered on her desk.

Amélie felt her strength drain, even though she had just woken up, so she stretched and extended her arms and neck to dispel the fog enveloping her drowsy brain. Having the fatigue from the previous day, compounded with the fatigue caused by the nightmare, was enough for her.

She couldn't afford to spend the whole day with a sore back or stiff neck from napping at her desk. A whirlwind of thoughts disturbed her mind.

So, stifling a yawn, she headed for the bathroom.

She needed to check the call records on her phone to confirm if she had indeed spoken to her father before dozing off, or if it had been part of the dream. She also needed to inform Mayumi about the delivery of the jacket, which she had personally handed to Na-moo Hwang. Obviously, she would have to come up with some excuse for not saying she had run into him at the police station.

Thinking of the man with the intense coffee-brown eyes brought the words he had said before she left his flat back to her mind.

“I want to drink this wine tomorrow… with you. Saturday is our free day. I hope to see you here at 8 p.m.”

Amélie's heart raced; the anguish was replaced by a slight tingling that churned her stomach. With trembling fingers, she turned on the shower. Thinking of Na-moo Hwang automatically reminded her of how he had greeted her when she returned with the apology gift the night before. His dark, damp hair combed back, water droplets running over his olive-toned skin, sliding past his lean muscles before getting lost in the lines that marked his defined abdomen…

She bit her lip as she glimpsed, in her own retinas, the volume of the detective's intimate parts, marked on the white towel he had wrapped around his hips.

Na-moo Hwang had a breathtaking physique. Mayumi was right about that. Undoubtedly, he had a body that would make any woman, lucky enough, “enjoy herself.”

Too bad she was the unlucky one who had ruined an opportunity like that…

She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking? Na-moo's invitation was her chance to build a good professional relationship with the detective. This would be a meeting between two colleagues trying to undo the (bad) first impression they had of each other in a forced encounter.

It was clear that he thought so too. Both had started off on the wrong foot.

Everything would go well, as long as she didn't mistake the detective's kindness for flirtation. As long as she kept her heart calm and her mind away from sinful thoughts that sent shivers down her skin, even with the hot water falling on her body.

Amélie closed her eyes and turned the dial until the shower ran cold, hoping the icy water would cool her body and wash away the impure thoughts in her mind about the detective with monolid eyes and full lips.

✛✛

The detective spun in his chair, rubbing his arms. The day was gray and muggy, prompting Hector to turn the air conditioning to the max.

Na-moo observed the whiteboard filled by the doctor as she explained why she had placed it between the table they shared and the blinds-covered window. The woman unconsciously brought the pen to her mouth, the blue tip pressing against her full and attractive lips. Her eyes met his, and he held her gaze while she spoke.

Amélie's cheeks flushed quickly. For a brief fraction of a second, Na-moo had the impression of seeing the doctor's eyelids fluttering, just before she turned away. He tried not to notice the curves accentuated by the navy blue pencil skirt she was wearing, but it was impossible. The skirt, in contrast to the yellow button-up shirt, highlighted her brown skin, making her even sexier.

Na-moo cleared his throat and prudently averted his eyes to the whiteboard. It didn't seem right to stare at a woman's body like that. Hector would tease him if he noticed, and he feared that his colleague might misinterpret his invitation for them to meet at his apartment after work. So, he focused on the photos pinned to the board.

They were pictures of the last people to see the first family they found dead, photos from when they were still alive. The neatly written red ink in the blank spaces between the photos reported the facts gathered during the police investigation and some questions that Amélie had asked herself during her analysis of the cases, read the day before.

“Okay, but why is my photo also there?” Hector objected, crossing his arms with a sullen expression. “Suspecting me, Dr. Zhou? Even though I gave my testimony voluntarily, have an alibi, and am a detective, do you believe I fit the list of suspects?”

Amélie sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulders as she turned in Brown's direction. Her brown eyes discreetly assessed him. While she didn't have a list of suspects in mind, Detective Brown—who warned her with a slightly arched eyebrow—could easily be considered a suspect in the case if he didn't have an alibi for the night of the crime, given that his physical attributes resembled those described by Tsui Amoto in her testimony.

However, that wasn't the reason she pinned his photo on the board alongside the other faces that were there—faces of men and women present at the real estate agency that day.

“These people were the last ones to see the Harrison family alive,” Amélie stated the obvious. “And that's why your photo is here.”

“They've all been cleared,” Na-moo pointed out. “I personally checked them.”

“Please don't take offense. I can't pinpoint exactly who the culprit is; that's the job of forensics and both of you,” she pointed her pen first at Hector and then at the other detective. “However, in order to play your respective roles, we need to find a suspect. That's where I come in. I'm trying to create an accurate profile; only then can we gather precise evidence. We've already checked the commonalities between the crimes and know that the killer has a fixation on certain details found at the scenes he leaves behind. Like blindfolding the victims, tying and nailing dead rats with exposed flesh over people's heads. Both are details that never change.”

Na-moo leaned his elbows on the arm of the chair, his long fingers intertwining as he narrowed his eyelids to get a better look at the board.

“The murderer also uses the poem to indicate the choice the victim must make,” the doctor continued. “They are detail-oriented and methodical; we can say that the crimes are premeditated. This prevents them from leaving traces that could immediately connect them to the murders. However, what's most curious to me is that Chio went twelve years without doing anything…”

Amélie turned her face towards the photos on the board, unconsciously biting her lower lip and touching her chin with her index finger and thumb.

“I need to find out why Chio returned to action and why now. With this information, I can point out clues capable of proving who is behind these murders. Or at least potential suspects to direct the police to crucial evidence. And the answer to the riddle I'm looking for is right here.” Amélie tapped the pen cap on the black-and-white photo in the center of the board, taken from the real estate agency where the Harrison family was last seen alive. “It all began in that real estate agency on that morning.”

“You seem sure of that,” Hector remarked, crossing his arms with a dark expression.

She ignored the trace of cynicism in the detective's voice when she replied, “There's a reason why the Harrisons were the first victims.”

“And what reason would that be?”

“That's what I intend to find out by talking to you about that day.”

“I was responsible for interrogating him and confirming his statement,” Na-moo stood up, locking eyes with his colleague. He leaned over her, only two steps separating them in the small space between the table and the board behind her.

The tension radiating from both electrified the air. A mix of emotions passed through the detective's deep coffee-brown eyes, but Amélie couldn't decipher them.

“Do you believe I didn't do my job properly, Dr. Zhou?” Na-moo whispered, his breath brushing some strands of her hair.

Amélie clasped her hands behind her back. Her heart skipped a few beats when the scent of naphthalene and mint, embedded in his crisp white button-up shirt, wafted into her nostrils. She looked small in front of Detective Hwang's 1.86 cm height, and knowing that Hector Brown was also staring at her made her feel even more nervous.

Nevertheless, she met Na-moo's deep gaze with her chin slightly tilted upwards.

“I didn't say that, Detective Hwang, but sometimes it's necessary to look at the same situation from different angles. You interrogated all these people as possible suspects, and I just want to talk to them. All of them. Not just your partner,” she emphasized, her voice steady despite the conflicting heartbeats.

Hwang slipped his hands into his pockets and pressed his plump lips together. A cute dimple appeared on his left cheek as a half-smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“It seems like you both got lucky. You've gained a beautiful and intelligent profiler.”

Na-moo spun on his heels, turning away from Amélie, when he heard the newcomer's amused and familiar voice.

Amélie discreetly let out the air she was holding in her lungs as the two detectives stared at the man wearing a white dress shirt and polished brown shoes, matching the tortoiseshell glasses on his angular face. 

Wrinkles formed at the corners of the man's eyes and lips as he smiled.

“Remember me, Miss Zhou? Moo saved you from my disastrous skills.”

”I can't say much about that, Dr Go. I have my share of disasters too.” She smiled, squinting at Hwang, and shook the hand the newly arrived man held out. “It's a pleasure to see you again, but I must emphasize that I'm not yet a profiler.”

“You seem intelligent enough to become one of the best” he quipped, giving Amélie a knowing wink. “Aren't I right, Moo?” Dae-young nudged Na-moo with his elbow. Although the man was five years older than the detective, he was almost eight centimeters shorter. He didn't seem intimidated by Hwang's visibly athletic build, and he had just voiced what Na-moo had thought about her during their little argument.

“Is it already lunchtime?” Na-moo dodged the question, checking the time on his wristwatch. It was almost two o'clock. He had forgotten that he’d agreed to have lunch with the medical examiner when they were at the bar last night.

“Did you guys make lunch plans together?” Hector narrowed his eyes and divided his gaze between Hwang and Go, with his hands on his hips.

“You were busy trying to flirt, so you didn't pay attention to us,” Dae-young's lips quivered in a smile.

Hector let out a long sigh. One hand remained on his hip while the other ran through his silky brown hair.

“Anyway, my lunch is already done. And now it seems I'm in trouble with Dr. Zhou.”

“In trouble?” Dae-young observed Amélie with raised eyebrows.

“You're not in trouble, Hector” the woman scolded, annoyed. “We'll just have a conversation about the day you saw the Harrison family at the real estate agency. And I would like to talk to you too, Dr. Go.”

His small eyes examined the board behind her, his brow furrowed.

“Oh! My picture is here too” he scratched his head. “Are we back to the suspects' list?”

“She believes she can find something I missed” Na-moo replied. “Maybe she has the eyes of a hawk.”

“Maybe it's the brain that's as sharp as a hawk's eyes, or not?” Hector retorted, narrowing his eyelids.

“Is it just me, or are they teasing me?”

“Obviously, it's just you.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow, and Hwang scratched his nose to hide the smile that adorned the corners of his mouth.

“Anyway, Dr. Go, it's not an interrogation. I won't probe you to find out something about you. Not exactly” she added when the man looked visibly confused.

She needed to find out something that, hypothetically, those people heard about the Harrison family. All she had were hypotheses and suspicions, but she couldn't verbalize them before she was sure.

There were gaps that still needed to be filled.

“Alright… I don't see why not. But does it have to be today? I'm a bit pressed for time. Despite Longino being a small town, I have a bunch of autopsies to perform.”

“No, it doesn't have to be today. Show up here when you're free, I just ask that you don't take too long; it's very important that we have this conversation.”

Dae-young nodded with a simple smile and turned in Na-moo's direction, putting his arm around the detective's shoulders.

“Shall we? My stomach is about to revolt. I'm starving!”