Leaving the toilet, we were met with questions.

“Anything new? I need to know what happened, please!” A concerned parent begged.

Another asked for new findings. Another asked us to reveal what happened. So annoying.

I raised my hands as a signal for them to quieten down. Surprisingly, they did.

“I believe all of you are eager to know how it happened, why it happened. But you’ll have to wait till the investigation finds out more. We’ll do our best to get to the bottom of this.”

It was usual procedure to say these things, but as always the crowd was torn when I said those words. Anger, grief, nervousness. What’s so hard about waiting for outcomes?

Despite Sol’s suggestion of a quick car ride to our hotel and then crashing into bed, I insisted we walk.

“What? Why do we always do this?” He groaned

“You’re getting fat”

He looked down at his belly, “really?”

“Maybe”

We waved off the officers, who had to go back to the police station, as we began our trek.

Restaurants lined the streets, filled with people. Couples walking hand in hand, giggling, chatting. The ground of smooth concrete; I could hear my own footsteps. Cars quietly drove by, each generating a breeze that would sway the evenly spaced trees that followed the road. Children cycled past me, they looked like they were having fun, laughing at their competition to see who was faster. My partner matched my slow pace, gazing at the lights scattered across the shops and lamps.

I stretched my arms wide, like I wanted to hug or absorb all this good karma. Sol looked at me incredulously, and mockingly he followed suit.

“You know, you never do this.” He yawned. Clearly, he was tired.

But he was right, previous cases have all been in metropolitan skyscraper cities, they have their beauty in their own right, but it was hectic, messy.

I put my arms down, smiling to myself. Yawning again, my partner shook his head fondly, as we walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

As Sol bathed (thankfully he didn’t soil the bed with his dirty clothes), I sat by the window, drumming my fingers on the polished tabletop. This window had a good view.

The sun had already set. Darkness would’ve enveloped the town if not for the street lamps. The evening had wound down. People were bidding farewell, walking each other home, and despite reluctantly parting ways, they promised to see each other again. Birds flew down from their tree perch. They pecked the ground outside the restaurant for leftovers, they stopped, looked around, and went back to pecking.

Very soon, the birds flew away, and the streets became empty. And when the night finally stilled, I looked away and prepared to go over the case files.

As I loaded the clip on my laptop, I couldn’t help but feel weary. Watching someone whom I know is already dead move around in a video, supposedly killing people before taking her own life. It was like watching a tragedy unfold while being unable to stop it.

I watched the long haired suspect enter the bathroom, the three to be victims then quickly followed in—eager to chase her down. One of them trailed behind the rest, that short haired girl who had the gut wound seemed hesitant. The leader of the pack, the girl who drowned, confidently marched in, with ponytail girl right behind her.

Soon, screams echoed through the corridor. But from the outside, nothing moved. No one was around—late after school. The leader hobbled out from the toilet, crying for help, until her own panic sent her sprawling. The suspect followed, knife slick with blood, and methodically severed the tendons in her ankles and elbows, then dragged her back in by the hair. She could only scream. I already knew her fate.

I paused the video; the frame now mirrored the state of the crime scene when I had arrived.

To anyone, the next step was obvious. Find the long-haired suspect and interrogate her. But she had already hanged herself.

Her brother found her hanging in her bedroom a few hours after the killings, in the same blood-soaked clothing she wore home from school.

I heard a loud content sigh. Sol was done bathing. He tended to do that after relaxing activities like massages or a spa. He sat beside me, the soaked bathrobe he wore was definitely going to ruin the seat’s padding.

“Let me see.” My partner gestured to the laptop in my hands.

As he watched the video from the start, his face remained unreadable. Sometimes I thought his personality was an act. Or maybe I shouldn’t expect him to be making jokes about such a grim event.

He watched the footage intently, but not intensely. He too knew what happened couldn’t be changed. With hands resting motionless on the table, Sol finished watching. I only knew when he slowly breathed out, as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time.

Sol asked me for my thoughts. “Sad,” I said.

He nodded. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Aren’t you the one who loves talking to the people involved?”

“I do. Let’s figure out who we’ll speak to tomorrow, and in what order.”

Sol pulled out a paper and jotted some names down. “Why don’t we speak to the principal first, then the teacher? They’re both in school in the morning”

“Are you sure the principal has anything good to say? He doesn’t even know these students existed before this.” I muttered

“Doesn’t matter, he could be our appetiser,” Sol smirked. “In the afternoon, we visit the funeral of one of the girls and pay our respects”

It was a good opportunity for us to interact with the parents.

He rambled on. “They have planned to host three funerals, across three days, to allow all the families to mourn each girl individually.”

How excessive. But maybe grieving together and making each funeral unique is what the parents wanted.

“We’ll speak to the brother last,” Sol continued. “After all the three days of funerals are over, he’ll have had time to collect himself. Then we’ll talk to him.”

“We could do it on the second or third funeral, when our mornings are free, no?”

Sol looked at me softly, “It’s for us to breathe.”

I’d like to pretend I knew what he meant.

After showering, I lay in bed. The next few days would be about discovery. Not all of it related to the case. I couldn’t wrap my head around why the girl would kill herself after murdering three people. I would’ve run to another country with my brother in tow.

Sol was already asleep on the adjacent bed, his back facing me. To be fair, the night light near my bed was still on. I flipped the switch and drifted off to sleep.