Attending ex-girlfriend's wedding, arresting the groom's officer on the spot

He zoomed in on the photo. The man's jawline was somewhat similar to the deceased's, but there was a birthmark behind his left ear. "The deceased's left ear was clean, so that should also be ruled out."

Xiao Zhou suddenly exclaimed "Ah!" and pointed to the screen: "Chen Tianming, 37 years old, construction supervisor!" "Look! Although his disappearance location is shown as the city, his last call was near a farm in our county, at 9:30 pm on July 12th!" She pulled up the detailed information: "Height 176cm, weight 72kg, the driver's license photo shows a noticeable bend in the left ring finger—the forensic doctor said the deceased had an old fracture in his left ring finger!"

Zhang Hui's heart skipped a beat. He grabbed the mouse and zoomed in on the photo; the man's features closely resembled the deceased's. "Check his medical report," his voice trembled almost imperceptibly. "Any history of neck injury? Any work experience in the construction industry?" Xiao Ma typed rapidly on the keyboard, and Chen Tianming's medical record appeared on the screen: "He had a herniated lumbar disc three years ago, but no history of neck injury." His social security records showed he worked at "Hongwei Building Materials," matching the information on the deceased's lighter.

“The most crucial thing is this,” Xiao Zhou pointed to the vehicle’s trajectory when it disappeared. “His motorcycle appeared near the farm in our county at 10 p.m. on July 12, and then the signal disappeared!” She compared the vehicle’s GPS with the location of the farm. “The straight-line distance is less than three kilometers, which fits the possibility of dumping the body after committing the crime.”

The printer in the information center suddenly started up with a "buzz," spitting out a new comparison list. Xiao Ma glanced at it and cursed, "This system is acting up again! It identified '37 years old' as '57 years old,' producing a bunch of old men's information. I'm speechless." He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the trash can, the metal can making a dull thud. "I should never have studied computers in the first place. Coming to this crappy place as a technician, I might as well have gone to a construction site to carry bricks."

Zhang Hui's gaze fell on the deceased's occupational information—"possibly a construction worker." He asked Xiao Ma to filter missing persons in the "construction industry," and 326 records instantly appeared on the screen. "Look at them one by one," he said, picking up his cold coffee, the bitter liquid sliding down his throat, "focusing on whether there are any cases of fractured left ring fingers and disappearances on the evening of July 12th."

At 7 a.m., the 1003rd record flashed by. Xiao Ma was so sleepy he was nodding off, only waking up with his head hitting the keyboard: "Brother Hui, this 'Zhao Gang, 38 years old, bricklayer,' has a labor dispute with a farm in our county!" He pulled up the business registration file. Zhao Gang had built pigsties for Chen Jianfeng's farm in 2022 and had a conflict over wages. "Height 177cm, weight 71kg, missing since July 12th, perfectly matches the criteria!"

Xiao Zhou noticed something suspicious: "His right hand has six fingers, which is clearly visible in the photo, but the forensic report says that the deceased had five fingers on both hands." She pointed to the right hand in the photo, "This is an obvious feature, there can't be a mistake." Zhang Hui looked closely and sure enough, it was true. His newly ignited hope was instantly shattered. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

The sky outside the window began to lighten, and the fluorescent lights in the information center finally stabilized, ceasing their hissing. Zhang Hui stood up, his back cracking. He looked at the mountain of scrap paper piled up beside the printer, each sheet covered with exclusion symbols. "We've compared over 1200 pieces of information," he said, rubbing his aching shoulders, "but haven't found a missing person who matches perfectly yet."

Xiao Ma and Xiao Zhou shuffled away, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. Zhang Hui glanced at the screen one last time. Next to the name "Chen Tianming" was a note saying "highly suspicious," and the "more than 1200" records beside it piled up like a small mountain, bearing witness to this tedious and lengthy comparison. As he shut down the computer, his bloodshot eyes were reflected on the screen, and he suddenly felt that this name, which he had been desperately searching for in the sea of ​​information, was like a corpse floating in a pigsty, still hidden in some unlit corner.

Morning light streamed through the windows of the information center, illuminating the more than 1200 records. Zhang Hui picked up Chen Tianming's photo; the man was wearing blue overalls, his smile gentle, the slight bend of his left ring finger barely visible in the picture. He knew the road to confirming the deceased's identity was still long. Next, they needed to expand the comparison scope, investigating missing persons in surrounding counties and cities, especially those connected to "Hongwei Building Materials." But right now, at least among these 1200+ records, they hadn't found the name awaiting confirmation.

When Lu Chuan pushed open the wooden door to the conference room, it carried the stench of the pig farm. A photo of the deceased's lighter lay spread out on the long table; the four characters "Hongwei Building Materials" gleamed coldly under the fluorescent lights, creating a stark contrast with the bag of dark blue fiber extracted from the pigsty on the corner of the table. "Everyone's here," Lu Chuan said, placing an enamel mug on the table, tea stains spreading across the "Pigsty Corpse Case" file. "Starting with Yang Lin, any new findings from the on-site investigation?"

Yang Lin lifted the projector screen, and a panoramic view of the farm instantly filled the entire wall. "The dark blue fibers extracted from the site, analyzed by infrared spectroscopy, are made of polyester with a warp and weft density of 120 x 80 threads per inch," he said, pointing his laser pointer to the drag marks in the lower left corner of the image. "The density is consistent with the wear-resistant work clothes commonly used by construction workers, but the twist is higher, as if it had been torn forcefully." The screen switched to a close-up of the feed warehouse. "The climbing marks on the back wall indicate that the perpetrator was left-handed, and the pressure zone of the size 44 safety shoes was off to the outside, making it highly likely that there was an old injury on the left leg."

A photo of the steel pipe appeared on the screen, the dark red stains standing out starkly under the ultraviolet light. "Benzidine test positive," Yang Lin read out the blood type report, "Type AB, consistent with the deceased's blood type. The curled marks at one end of the steel pipe perfectly match the dents on the fence latches; it was likely a tool used to pry open the fence." He suddenly raised his voice, "Most importantly, the last record on the warehouse scale—238 kilograms, 50 kilograms more than the normal feed weight. That 50 kilograms is very likely the deceased's weight."

Zhang Kai's autopsy report, glistening with the white of pulp under the light, stated, "The time of death is confirmed as between 10 PM and 2 AM on July 12th," he circled the X-ray of the hyoid bone fracture in red pen. "The greater horn of the hyoid bone shows an oblique fracture with subperiosteal hemorrhage, consistent with strangulation by thumb pressure, with greater force on the left side than the right, indicating the perpetrator was right-handed." The attached microscopic photograph of the stomach contents showed that the corn kernels were intact. "Death occurred 3-4 hours after ingestion, consistent with the estimated time of death. The pig hair fibers, with hair follicles, suggest that they were either injected post-mortem or fell in naturally."

"The chain of evidence for mechanical asphyxiation is complete," Zhang Kai said, his fingertip pointing to the photograph of the conjunctival hemorrhage. (End of Chapter)