I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head

The next five days pass in a whirlwind of activity. The briefing room becomes our command center, with maps, photos, and plans covering every available surface. The air is thick with tension and determination as we race against the clock to prepare for Thursday's operation.

Detective Pyo takes charge of assembling our team of decoys. In addition to herself, she selects three other female officers known for their quick thinking and physical prowess. I watch as they gather around a table, poring over photos of the victims and discussing how to emulate their appearance and behavior.

"Remember," Pyo instructs, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation, "we need to appear vulnerable without being obvious. Natural hair colors, minimal makeup. Clothes that are practical for the rain, but not too protective."

The officers nod, their faces a mix of determination and apprehension. One of them, Officer Kim, speaks up. "What about our movements? Should we act lost or distressed?"

I step in, addressing the group. "Good question. Based on our profile, the killer seems to target women who are alone and appear distracted or preoccupied. Maybe you're checking your phone, struggling with an umbrella, or just lost in thought. The key is to seem unaware of your surroundings."

As the decoy team continues their preparations, I turn my attention to mapping out the target areas. Detective Eum and I spend hours analyzing CCTV coverage around the three bus stops, identifying blind spots and secluded areas where our killer might strike.

"Here," Eum points to a small alley near the first stop. "This area has no camera coverage, and it's secluded enough for an attack."

I nod, marking it on our map. "Good catch. We'll need to position backup teams with clear sightlines to this spot."

We repeat this process for each stop, meticulously planning the placement of our undercover officers and backup teams. It's painstaking work, but we can't afford to leave any detail to chance.

Meanwhile, Seo coordinates with other departments to secure the necessary resources. Extra patrol cars are discretely positioned in the target neighborhoods. Surveillance vans, equipped with state-of-the-art monitoring equipment, are readied. Even a helicopter is put on standby, ready to provide aerial support if needed.

As Thursday approaches, we run through multiple simulations, fine-tuning our response times and communication protocols. The decoy officers practice their roles, while the backup teams rehearse their rapid response strategies.

On Wednesday night, we gather for a final briefing. The room is packed, with officers from various units all focused on the operation at hand. Seo stands at the front, his face grave as he addresses the team.

"Tomorrow is the day we've been preparing for," he begins. "I don't need to tell you how important this operation is, or how dangerous. We're dealing with a cunning and violent individual, and we can't afford any mistakes."

He turns to the decoy team. "You're putting yourselves at great risk. Your safety is our top priority. If at any point you feel the situation is getting out of control, use the panic button. Don't try to be a hero."

Pyo and the other decoy officers nod solemnly. The weight of their role is evident in their eyes, but so is their resolve.

Seo continues, outlining the final details of the plan. Each decoy will be positioned at one of the identified blind spots, with backup teams hidden nearby. They'll be in constant communication via hidden earpieces, with a command center monitoring everything in real-time.

I catch Pyo's eye as the meeting breaks up. She gives me a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of the trust we're placing in each other. Tomorrow, her life could depend on our plan, on our ability to react quickly and decisively.

Tomorrow, one way or another, our long hunt for the rain-day killer will come to an end. I just hope we're ready for whatever the rain might bring.

The clock strikes midnight, and Thursday officially begins. A palpable tension fills the air as officers take their positions across the designated areas. I'm huddled in a surveillance van with three other officers, our eyes glued to monitors showing various angles of Pyo's location.

The weather forecast flashes on one of the screens: 100% chance of rain. As if on cue, a light drizzle begins, droplets pattering softly against the van's roof.

Pyo's voice comes through our earpieces, calm and focused. "I'm in position. Light rain has started."

She's dressed convincingly as an office worker who's stayed late, her hair slightly disheveled, her blouse and skirt wrinkled just enough to suggest a long day. Underneath, we know she's wearing a thin bulletproof vest - a precaution we hope she won't need, but one we insisted on.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. The drizzle gradually intensifies, and by 1 AM, it's a steady downpour. The cameras struggle to maintain clear visuals through the sheets of rain.

"Visibility is decreasing," one of the officers in the van mutters, adjusting the camera settings.

Pyo's voice crackles through the earpiece, distorted by the rain. "...can barely see... moving to... shelter..."

We watch as she moves towards a streetlight, positioning herself under its small overhang. The yellow glow illuminates her clearly, a beacon in the dark, rain-soaked night. I can't help but feel a twinge of unease - she's so exposed, so visible.

"Pyo, maybe find a less conspicuous spot," I suggest into the mic.

Her response is broken, fragmented. "...think I saw... movement in the alley..."

Every muscle in my body tenses. This could be it.

Suddenly, Pyo's voice comes through clearly, urgent and low. "Someone's approaching. Fast."

We lean towards the monitors, straining to see through the rain-blurred images. A dark shape appears at the edge of one frame, moving swiftly towards Pyo.

"All units, be ready," I command, my hand hovering over the door handle.

Then we hear it - the unmistakable sounds of a struggle. Pyo's breathing becomes labored, punctuated by muffled grunts.

"Now!" I shout, throwing open the van door.

We spill out into the deluge, rain immediately soaking through our clothes. The street is a blur of grey and black, visibility reduced to mere meters. I sprint towards Pyo's last known location, my shoes splashing through growing puddles.

"Pyo!" I yell, but my voice is swallowed by the roar of the rain.

Heart pounding, I round the corner to the streetlight. The area under it is empty.

"Spread out!" I order, gesturing to the nearby alley. "They must be close!"

Officers fan out, flashlights cutting through the darkness. The rain is relentless, plastering hair to foreheads and obscuring vision. Every shadow could be our killer, every sound could be Pyo fighting for her life.

I dash down the alley, my flashlight beam bouncing wildly off wet brick walls. Suddenly, I hear a crash from behind a dumpster.

"Over here!" I shout, racing towards the sound.

As I round the dumpster, I see two figures locked in a desperate struggle. Pyo is on her back, arms raised defensively, while a hooded figure looms over her, something glinting in their hand.

"Police! Freeze!" I bellow, my gun drawn.

The attacker's head snaps up, and for a split second, I catch a glimpse of wide, manic eyes. Then they're moving, impossibly fast, darting past me and deeper into the maze of alleys.

"Suspect fleeing west down the alley!" I yell into my radio, dropping to check on Pyo. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately!"

As other officers race past in pursuit of the fleeing suspect, I assess Pyo's condition. She's conscious, bleeding from a gash on her arm, but alive. The bulletproof vest beneath her blouse is visible now, torn but intact - it may have just saved her life.

"Did you see his face?" I ask urgently.

Pyo nods weakly, rain mixing with blood on her cheek. "Not clearly."

As the sound of sirens grows closer, I help Pyo to her feet. The rain continues to pour, washing away evidence with every passing second. Our killer is out there, melting into the storm-drenched city.

The search for the suspect is frantic and chaotic. Officers comb through the labyrinth of alleys, their shouts barely audible over the pounding rain. But the downpour works against us, obscuring visibility and washing away any traces the killer might have left behind.

After thirty futile minutes, Seo's voice crackles over the radio. "All units, fall back. We've lost him."

Frustration and worry gnaw at me as I make my way back to Pyo. She's leaning against a wall, one hand pressed to her bleeding arm. The rain has plastered her hair to her face, mixing with the blood trickling from a cut on her cheek.

"We need to get you to a hospital," I say, supporting her weight as we head back to base.

At the command center, I grab my car keys. "I'm taking her to the ER," I tell Seo. He nods, already coordinating the ongoing search efforts.

I help Pyo into my car, wincing at the amount of blood soaking through her sleeve. The bulletproof vest saved her life, protecting her vital organs from the killer's knife, but her arms took the brunt of the attack.

As I navigate through narrow alleys, seeking the quickest route to the main road, Pyo speaks softly. "I'm sorry. I couldn't stop him."

"You did everything right," I assure her, eyes flicking between her pale face and the rain-slicked road. "We'll get him."

Suddenly, something catches my eye in the rearview mirror. A flicker of movement in an alley we just passed. I slam on the brakes, the car skidding slightly on the wet asphalt.

"What's happening?" Pyo asks, alarm clear in her voice.

My heart is racing. "Stay in the car," I order, already reaching for the door handle. "Lock the doors. I'll be right back."

Before she can protest, I'm out of the car and running back towards the alley, rain immediately drenching me. The downpour is still heavy, but my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. I peer into the alley, straining to see through the curtain of rain.