Deadly pursuit

YEAR 2006......

"Mom! The bus is gonna leave me!"

Six-year-old Taehyung slammed his small heel against the wooden floorboards, the brass door handle rattling violently under his grip. The lock refused to budge. He yanked it once, twice, his small knuckles turning white as his bottom lip juttered out in a full-blown pout.

Behind him, the apartment smelled faintly of dried lavender and toasted bread. Sunlight streamed through the tall living room windows, illuminating a simple dining table and two plush gray couches resting opposite a small television. On the far wall hung three framed photographs. In the first, a distant mountain range slept under a blanket of blue mist. In the second, Taehyung glared playfully at the lens in a graphic t-shirt and jeans, his youthful grin missing a baby tooth.

The third picture held a softer warmth. A woman in her early twenties cradled a tiny, newborn bundle against her shoulder. Her dark hair was thrown into a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes entirely eclipsed by the radiant, glowing smile fixed on her child.

A heavy latch clicked open at the back of the hallway.

"I'm moving, Tae, I'm moving!" Hwa-young hurried out of her bedroom, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor. She smoothed down the lapels of a sharp navy suit jacket while trying to wedge a thick leather folder into her handbag.

"The bus isn't going to wait for me, Mom!"

Taehyung whined, turning around to face her. His school uniform was pristine—a crisp white button-down tucked tightly into dark blue trousers, topped off with a neatly knotted necktie and a bright yellow SpongeBob backpack bouncing on his shoulders.

"Which is exactly why I am driving you today," Hwa-young said, sweeping past him into the small kitchen. She emerged a second later holding a soft purple lunch box by its strap. "My alarm didn't go off. Go on, step back from the door."

She unlocked the bolt, took his small, warm hand into her own, and guided him out into the morning air.

—————

The engine of their silver Toyota Corolla hummed softly as Hwa-young navigated the quiet residential streets. Taehyung sat in the back, his legs swinging rhythmically against the seat edge as he watched the houses blur past.

Up ahead, a line of cars had already formed outside the elementary school gates. Children in matching navy uniforms were tumbling out of backseats, waving goodbye to parents before running toward the brick building.

Hwa-young pulled up to the curb, shifted into park, and turned around in her seat. She rested her arm over the headrest, her gaze softening as she looked at her son.

"Listen to me carefully, Taehyung-ie," she said softly. "Work is going to run a bit late today. I won't be able to come pick you up after the final bell."

Taehyung's cheerful bouncing stopped instantly. His eyebrows pulled together in a tight, troubled furrow. "Why not? You always pick me up."

"I have an important meeting with my director," she explained, reaching back to gently adjust his crooked necktie. "Mrs. Yun-hee promised to walk you home after school. Do you remember where the spare key is?"

"Under the coir mat," he mumbled, looking down at his shoes. "But I don't want to stay in the house by myself. It gets quiet and dark."

Hwa-young's heart pinched. She reached out, running her fingers through his dark hair, smoothing down the stubborn cowlick at the crown of his head.

"I know, sweetie. But I promise I will hurry back the second my meeting ends," she said, her voice dripping with gentle warmth. "And if you are a brave boy and wait patiently, I'll stop by the bakery and pick up those strawberry chocolates you like. Deal?"

Taehyung looked up, his wide eyes instantly rekindling with hope. "The ones in the red heart box?"

"The very same ones," she smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

A radiant, toothy smile broke across Taehyung's face. "Deal!"

"Good. Now out you go, before your teacher marks you late."

Hwa-young unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, walking around to open his door. She lifted the purple lunch bag and carefully looped the strap around his neck, crouching down so they were eye level.

"Be on your best behavior for Mrs. Yun-hee today. No running in the corridors."

"I won't!" Taehyung piped up. He leaned forward, planting a quick, sticky kiss on her cheek.

Hwa-young beamed, returning the gesture with a tender peck on his forehead. "Go on, run!"

She stood by the open passenger door, watching the bright yellow SpongeBob backpack bob up and down as Taehyung dashed through the open school gates. She kept her eyes on him until his small frame vanished through the heavy wooden front doors.

A sharp, continuous buzz echoed from inside her suit pocket.

Hwa-young pulled out her mobile phone. The momentary warmth on her face vanished the second she read the name flashing across the screen. Her jaw set into a rigid line, her fingers tightening around the plastic casing. She shot one last glance toward the quiet school entrance, climbed back into the driver's seat, and pulled away from the curb into the morning traffic.

—————

By mid-afternoon, the bustling school yard had emptied into a quiet expanse of concrete and autumn leaves. Taehyung sat on the bottom step near the main entrance, his knees pulled up to his chest, staring wistfully at the street where the last remaining cars were driving away.

He rested his chin on his hands, a tiny sigh escaping his lips. "I wish Mom came instead..."

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Taehyung-ie."

Taehyung turned his head to see Mrs. Yun-hee stepping out of the glass doors. She was slipping a heavy knit cardigan over her blouse, looking noticeably worn out. Her tired eyes offered him a gentle, benevolent smile as she reached down and took his heavy lunchbox into her left hand.

"My staff meeting went a little longer than I anticipated," she said softly, extending her open right hand to him. "Shall we head home now?"

Taehyung nodded obediently, slipping his small hand into hers. "Yes, Mrs. Yun-hee."

They walked side by side down the suburban sidewalks, the quiet chatter of the neighborhood keeping them company until they reached the door of his apartment building.

—————

"Thank you, Mrs. Yun-hee," Taehyung said, stopping at his front door. He bent his knees and executed a polite, formal bow, taking his purple lunchbox back from her.

Mrs. Yun-hee smiled down at him, her expression soft. "You are very welcome. Now, remember what your mother said—stay inside, lock the latch, and do not open the door for anyone you don't know. Understood?"

"Understood!" Taehyung nodded dutifully.

He squatted down, lifted the heavy, coarse corner of the welcome mat, and retrieved the small metallic key hidden beneath the dirt. He carefully fitted it into the keyhole, turned the deadbolt until it clicked, and pushed the heavy door open. He turned around, gave his teacher a tiny wave, and stepped inside, pulling the door shut until the latch engaged with a loud thunk.

Outside, Mrs. Yun-hee lingered on the porch for a moment, listening to the chain slide into place. She let out a quiet, tired sigh, adjusted her sweater, and turned to walk toward her own home.

Inside the quiet apartment, the afternoon light slowly bled into shades of deep orange and indigo. Taehyung didn't bother changing out of his stiff school uniform. He kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the soft fabric of the living room sofa, and curled into a tight ball, his arms wrapped around a couch cushion.

The silence of the empty house pressed heavy on his shoulders. He stared at the front door, waiting for the sound of a key in the lock, until his eyelids grew heavy and sleep pulled him under.

—————

Morning light crept through the blinds in harsh, pale strips.

A loud, demanding knock echoed through the wooden door frame, rattling the living room silence and jolting Taehyung awake. He sat up abruptly, rubbing his knuckles into his bleary, swollen eyes.

Mom!

The thought shot through his small body like electricity. He tumbled off the sofa, his socked feet scrambling across the hardwood floor as he rushed toward the entryway. "Mom!" he began to call out, his hand reaching for the metallic handle.

He froze inches away.

Low, heavy masculine voices drifted through the thick wood from the porch outside.

"Are you certain this is the address listed on her record?" a deep voice asked.

"Yes, it is," a second, flatter voice answered. "Kim Hwa-young. Single mother, lives here with her six-year-old son."

Taehyung's hand recoiled from the handle as if the metal had turned to fire. The excited smile on his face vanished, replaced by a sudden, icy tightness in his stomach.

Another sharp knock shook the door.

Remembering Mrs. Yun-hee's warnings, Taehyung retreated a step, creeping silently toward the front window. He raised his hand and peeled back a tiny corner of the beige curtain, peering out onto the porch.

Two men stood near the threshold. They were dressed in dark, formal police uniforms with shiny silver badges pinned over their left breasts—just like the officers he had seen in action movies with his mother, and just like the uniform his uncle wore.

A flicker of hope sparked in his chest. Police officers are good people, his mother had always told him. If you're ever lost, look for a uniform.

Gaining a burst of courage, Taehyung unlatched the chain and pulled the front door open just a few inches, peeking his small face out through the gap.

The two officers jumped slightly, startled by the sudden appearance of the tiny child. The taller officer immediately crouched down on his knees, his stern face attempting to soften into a reassuring smile, though his eyes remained heavy with an unreadable pity.

"Hello there, kiddo," the officer said gently.

"We're looking for Mrs. Kim Hwa-young's home. Is this it?"

Taehyung's small fingers gripped the edge of the door frame. "That's my mommy. Do you know where she is? She didn't come home last night."

The two officers exchanged a quick, grim glance, their smiles faltering.

"Does anyone else live here with you and your mommy, buddy?" the crouching officer asked softly.

Taehyung shook his head. "No. Just me and Mommy. But my Uncle Joon comes over on weekends."

Before the officer could ask another question, the sharp screech of tires echoed from the street. A dark police sedan pulled up aggressively against the curb, its engine dying as a man scrambled out of the driver's side and bolted up the walkway.

"Taehyung!"

"Uncle Joon!" Taehyung cried out, throwing the door completely open and running out onto the concrete porch.

Uncle Joon was wearing his formal superintendent uniform, his hat missing, his hair disheveled and slick with sweat. He dropped hard onto his knees in the grass, enveloping Taehyung in a tight, crushing hug.

Taehyung felt his uncle's chest heaving against his shoulder. A wet drop hit the back of Taehyung's collar. Uncle Joon quickly pulled back, swiping his hand aggressively across his eyes to clear the tears before looking at the two officers, who snapped to attention and bowed their heads respectfully.

"I'll handle it from here," Joon said, his voice raspy and choked. "Return to the station."

"Understood, Superintendent," one officer replied softly before both men turned and walked back to their car.

Uncle Joon turned back to Taehyung, his hands trembling slightly as he brushed a lock of hair from the boy's forehead. "Are you okay, Tae? Were you here all night by yourself?"

Taehyung nodded, his eyes filling with big, fat tears. "Uncle Joon, where is Mommy? Why didn't she come home?"

Uncle Joon took a long, shaky breath. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, looking down at the grass, before forcing himself to meet his nephew's gaze. He reached out and forced a tight, pained smile onto his face.

"Let's... let me get you out of this dirty school uniform first, okay?" Joon said softly, his fingers gently squeezing Taehyung's shoulder. "Then I'm going to take you to see your mom."

Taehyung's tears stopped instantly, his face lighting up with raw excitement. "Really? You know where she is?"

"I do," Joon lied quietly, standing up and taking the boy's tiny hand in his. "I'll carry your bag. Let me lock up the apartment."

—————

After guiding Taehyung into his own house a short drive away, Uncle Joon helped him bathe, change into a soft pair of sweatpants, and settle down near the living room sofa.

"Sit right here for a minute, Tae," Uncle Joon said, his voice unusually hushed. "I need to make an important phone call in my office."

Taehyung sat obediently on the edge of the cushion, swinging his feet back and forth. But as the silence of the large house settled around him, his mind raced. His uncle had said his mother was here. Maybe she was resting in one of the guest bedrooms because she was tired from her long meeting?

Driven by an overwhelming urge to see her, Taehyung slipped off the couch. His socks glided silently across the floorboards as he padded down the dim, carpeted hallway toward his uncle's study.

As he approached the half-open door, he heard his uncle's voice. It was low, tense, and thick with suppressed rage.

Taehyung paused near the frame, peaking through the crack.

"...No, he doesn't know about his mother's death yet..." Uncle Joon was saying, his back turned to the door, his fist slammed hard against the wooden desk. "...I don't care what it takes! Make sure the forensic team searches every inch of that crime scene in Riverview Park. We need every piece of evidence to find the bastard who killed her!"

The hallway seemed to drop into absolute ice.

Taehyung stood rooted to the carpet. The words echoed in his tiny mind, repeating over and over, each syllable heavy enough to crush the air straight out of his lungs.

Mother's death... killed her...

His breath hitched sharply in his throat. His small hand reached out, gripping the wooden doorframe just to keep his trembling legs from collapsing beneath him.

"Momma?" he whispered into the empty hallway, his voice breaking into a fragile, barely audible squeak.

Taehyung was six years old, but he was far from foolish. He knew what death meant. He knew it meant sleeping and never waking up. He knew it meant someone was gone forever.

His mother wasn't coming home. She was never going to bring the strawberry chocolates.

Panic, sharp and suffocating, seized his chest. Without thinking, Taehyung turned around and bolted down the hallway, his small feet flying across the floorboards. He threw the heavy front door open and sprinted out into the blinding afternoon sun, running as fast as his small legs could carry him.

—————

Taehyung ran blindly down the suburban sidewalk, hot tears streaming down his flushed cheeks and blurring the world into streaks of green and gray.

"Momma! Momma!" he sobbed, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, his throat raw and burning.

Pedestrians stopped to stare at the weeping six-year-old sprinting past them, their expressions filled with alarm and confusion, but Taehyung saw none of them. He just kept running, trying to escape the terrible words echoing in his head.

As he rounded a busy commercial corner, the blaring audio of a television screen mounted outside a sidewalk café cut through his frantic gasps.

...Breaking news regarding the brutal homicide discovered earlier this morning...

Taehyung's feet slammed to a halt on the concrete.

High up on the mounted screen, surrounded by flashing red graphics, was a clear photograph of his mother—her mess of dark hair, her radiant smile, her warm eyes looking right down at him.

A news anchor with a stony, somber face spoke directly into the camera:

"We have shocking details tonight regarding the young woman found deceased in Riverview Park. The victim has been identified as 28-year-old Kim Hwa-young, a dedicated local social worker and single mother..."

Taehyung's hands came up to clutch at his small chest, his mouth hanging open as he stared up at the screen. "M-Momma..."

"Police report that Hwa-young's body was discovered in a secluded wooded area near the park's old oak tree, bearing evidence of a violent and harrowing attack..." The anchor continued, his voice echoing loudly over the quiet street. "...The victim suffered extensive physical trauma, including her eyes being surgically removed and thirteen severe stab wounds to her upper chest and torso..."

The screen suddenly cut away from the photograph to a shaky video feed of a black zippered bag being wheeled on a gurney into the back of a city coroner's van, surrounded by the flashing red lights of police cruisers.

The world around Taehyung began to spin violently. The sound of passing cars, the murmurs of horrified café patrons, the anchor's booming voice—it all fused into an unbearable, high-pitched ringing in his ears. The sky above him seemed to tilt sideways.

His knees buckled, completely unable to support his weight any longer.

"Taehyung!"

A pair of strong, urgent arms swept under his shoulders, catching his limp body just before he hit the hard pavement.

Uncle Joon pulled the sobbing boy tightly against his chest, burying his face in Taehyung's hair as his own tears spilled over. "I've got you, Tae... I'm so sorry... I've got you..."

Taehyung's eyelids grew heavy as lead. As his vision tunneled into complete, merciful darkness, the last thing he felt was the frantic, pounding heartbeat of his uncle pressed against his cheek, and the desperate, weeping whisper of his name repeating over and over again.