Murdered, but My Cop Mom Thought I Ran Away

When my eyes were gouged out, my mother was shopping with my cousin. When I was forced to drink a bottle of acid and died in agony, she snapped impatiently, “Kara, can’t you be as well-behaved as Wendy? If you’re just going to run away, then don’t bother calling me!” However, when she saw the crime scene, she rushed outside and threw up. As a criminal psychologist specially hired by the River City police, how could she feel sick at the sight of her own daughter’s body? Chapter 1 After the report came in, the police rushed to the scene of my death. The empty building was drafty on all sides, thick with the stench of rotting blood. The blood on the floor was still wet, with swarms of flies clinging to it. The moment Mom saw my body, she froze for a moment. Then, she turned around and ran outside, covering her mouth as she gagged uncontrollably. Officer Zane silently put on a mask and handed her a bottle of water. I watched as she steadied herself before stepping back into the foul-smelling room. The body in front of her had no head, seemingly brutally chopped off at the neck. The upper torso had been split open from the chest, exposing organs that were already decaying. The lower half was a mangled mess of flesh and blood, making it impossible to even determine the victim’s gender. As I watched Mom carefully examine the body, my soul felt a quiet ache. It had been so long since we were this close. Every time we met, it always ended with tension and arguments. Mom frowned. Her gaze was fixed on an old scar on the arm. Hope flickered in my eyes. Did she recognize me? I got the scar as a child when I tried to pour her some hot water. I accidentally burned myself. There was no way she could have forgotten! Back then, she had looked at it with such pain and said, “I'll never allow you to be hurt again, Kara.” However, after my cousin, Wendy Page, came to live with us, I was no longer the one she protected. She felt sorry that my cousin had no one and left me to live like an orphan. However, Mom only glanced at the scar briefly before looking away. She looked away without a trace of concern. She frowned at the gruesome body and turned to the medical examiner, “Ms. Hudson, any initial findings?” The medical examiner stood up with her brows tightly knitted together. “The victim is a young woman, around twenty-five. She was forced to ingest a corrosive liquid before death. The exact cause will need further examination back at the station.” She paused for a moment, then forced out through clenched teeth, “She was also subjected to severe sexual assault and abuse before she died.” Mom's eyes reddened when she heard that. “Judging from the condition of the body, the killer was acting out of rage. Such a young girl. What a tragedy.” My dear mother had always been deeply empathetic. She could grieve the loss of a young life like this. Yet she had never once shown me the same compassion. I studied the sympathetic look on her face. If she knew the victim was me, would her eyes still turn red? Of course not. She would probably feel relieved to be rid of a daughter she found so bothersome. Even when my cousin and her friends were picking on me, Mom had only looked at me with disgust and said, “Kara, can you stop lying? I’d be grateful enough if you weren’t the one bullying Wendy.” Chapter 2 In Mom's eyes, even the victims in her cases seemed to matter more to her than I ever did. Her phone rang. When she looked at the screen, a faint warmth appeared on her face. I leaned in. It was Wendy. She was asking whether Mom would be coming home for dinner. Mom sent a voice message back. Her voice was softer than anything I had ever heard from her. “Sweetie, I’ve got a tricky case on my hands tonight. Don’t wait for me. Take care of yourself. Just tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll get it for you.” Officer Zane, who stood beside, let out a chuckle. “Moira, so you and Kara made up? I thought you were still holding a grudge against the girl. Moms and daughters are close at heart. Any conflict will soon be forgotten.” Mom pressed her red lips together and said in a low voice, “Wendy is my one and only daughter. Wesley, don’t bring up Kara again. She ran away from home this time. She’s been missing for five or six days. She didn’t even go to her father’s memorial.” I wanted to tell her that I didn’t run away from home. I just couldn't ever go back again. … The task force took the brutal murder case extremely seriously. The police feared the horrifying condition of the body would cause public panic, so catching the killer was urgent. The medical examiner sat at the conference table and handed a file to Mom. “Moira, this is the autopsy report I compiled back at the bureau. Take a look.” Mom's expression turned cold as she read the report, “Female victim, identity unknown, approximately 25 years old. The crime scene is an abandoned building in the suburbs. Multiple fatal injuries. The cause of death was internal organ corrosion from sulfuric acid, leading to shock from extreme pain. Genital mutilation and sexual assault confirmed. Head severed from the body… This child died far too tragically.” Officer Zane noticed her grim expression and asked, “From a criminal psychology perspective, what stands out as the key breakthrough in this case?” Mom bit her lip. “We need to determine whether this was a revenge killing or a crime of passion. Sexual motives can’t be ruled out. But given the extent of torture inflicted before death, it’s more likely the offender had deep personal resentment toward the victim.” I shuddered. Mom’s analysis was completely accurate! An officer frowned and asked, “The victim’s head is still missing, and we don’t even know how long she’s been dead. Why hasn’t anyone reported her missing?” A sharp ache rose in my chest as I looked at Mom, who was still calmly analyzing the case. She had never cared about where I was. It did not matter whether I appeared or disappeared. I was just something insignificant to her. Mom cleared her throat and parted her red lips. “From the crime scene, the offender likely has underlying psychological issues. The motive appears largely driven by the release of pent-up rage. We need to identify the victim as quickly as possible and reconstruct her social network.” Officer Zane nodded in satisfaction. “Moira, take Team A back to the scene for another sweep. Forensics, please go as well. See if you can find anything we missed.” After a pause, he added, “Anyone with daughters at home, make sure they stay safe lately.” Mom let out a sigh and reached for her phone. Officer Zane pointed at her from across the room. “Moira, don’t forget about Kara. She’s your biological daughter!” Mom froze ever so slightly. Then, a flicker of irritation crossed her eyes. “Wesley, my husband died because of her back then. I can’t get past that. All these years, the daughter who’s been living with me is Wendy, not Kara.” Chapter 3 Officer Zane rubbed the bridge of his nose and said helplessly, “You should at least listen to Kara’s explanation. That kid’s always been quietly looking out for you behind your back.” Mom's lips twitched slightly. Her expression was slightly stiff. “Wesley, I know you mean well, but whatever bond I had with her as mother and daughter is long gone. She caused her father’s death, and she’s been bullying Wendy all these years. She’s just born bad.” I let out a self-mocking laugh. Back then, after my aunt divorced, she died in a car accident. Hence, my parents took in my cousin. One day, my cousin and I ran into Dad while he was on a mission. I knew I had to pretend not to recognize him in public. However, Wendy ignored everything I said and walked right up to him, smiling innocently yet chillingly. “Uncle Damian, are you catching bad guys?” Her words exposed him, and Dad was killed by the criminals that day. Wendy claimed it was me who had called out to him and exposed his undercover identity. Mom looked at my cousin’s tear-streaked face, then at my stunned silence, and believed her. I was too young, too frightened to even process what had happened. Mom simply went ahead and judged me guilty on her own. Now, remembering the day she learned of Dad's death, Mom's eyes darkened with anger. “Wesley, Kara didn’t even cry once after Damian died. She refuses to go to the memorial with me every year on his death anniversary. She’s just a cold, ungrateful child!” But she brought Wendy to his grave every year. I just did not want to mourn my father alongside the person I believed had caused his death. Officer Zane shook his head. He did not agree with Mom. “You say she’s cold-hearted, but every year, Kara passes me a birthday gift to place on your desk. She was just a child back then.” He paused for a moment and added, “Besides, you can’t just take your adopted daughter’s word for what happened back then.” Mom clenched her hands tightly. Her chest rose and fell. “Wesley, you don’t need to defend Kara anymore. She came from my body. I know exactly what kind of person she is. From now on, Wendy is my only daughter.” Officer Zane could only throw out a final remark when he saw how stubborn she was. “You’ve been up all night. Go home and rest. If anything comes up, I’ll call you back to the bureau.” When the sulfuric acid burned through my mouth and white smoke rose from my lips, I wanted so badly to whisper one last thing—'Mom, take care of yourself.' However, the pain was too overwhelming. I could not even form a full sentence. All I could do was listen as her irritated and sharp voice came through the phone, “Kara, can’t you be as well-behaved and sensible as Wendy? If you’re just going to run away from home, then don’t bother calling me!” My breathing grew weaker. As I was tortured to death, I looked helplessly as the devil walked toward me with a knife. Even in my final moments, I was still thinking about how I had not given Mom the birthday gift I had prepared for her this year. … The house was still warm, just like it had been when I was alive. To Mom, this was her home with Wendy. My existence would only disturb the life they shared. Wendy thoughtfully poured my mother a glass of honey water. She gently massaged her shoulders. “Mom, is the case that hard? You’ve got dark circles already.” Mom pinched her cheek affectionately. Her tone was warm and doting. “You’ve got sharp eyes. You really are an angel sent from heaven.” Chapter 4 My cousin lowered her gaze, and tears the size of pearls rolled down her face. “Mom, Kara keeps saying I’m a demon.” A sharp pain pierced my chest. There she went again, putting on that same fake, delicate act again. However, Mom always fell for it. Every time she did, I was the one who ended up getting scolded. Wendy glanced at Mom's darkening expression, and a glint of satisfaction flickered in her eyes. She had long since replaced me, becoming the only daughter in Mom's heart. Even the blood bond between Mom and me could be easily twisted apart by her. One time, Wendy led me to my deranged admirer. She knew exactly what would happen to me, yet she did it anyway. Of course, she had nothing to fear. In Mom’s eyes, she was always an innocent, kind-hearted daughter. The moment Wendy came into our home, I did not just lose Dad. I lost Mom as well. Wendy bit her lower lip. Her face was deathly pale, pitiful enough to make anyone’s heart ache. “Mom, is it because I accidentally broke Kara’s doll that she still hates me?” I stared at Mom’s face at the mention of the doll. It was a fabric doll Dad, Mom, and I had made together when he was still alive. However, Mom softened instantly when she looked at Wendy’s reddened nose and misty eyes. “Wendy, you didn’t mean to. It's Kara who’s being petty. I’ve already taught her a lesson. When she comes home, I’ll make her apologize to you. You can decide how she makes it up to you.” Wendy understood Mom’s temper too well. She could easily stir her anger again with just a few words. “Mom, Kara isn’t the type to apologize easily. All these years, she hasn’t even said sorry to Uncle Damian.” Mom’s breathing grew heavier. Her lips pressed into a tight line as anger flickered in her eyes. The rage I had been holding back surged up inside me. That scheming woman still had the nerve to mention Dad! After I rejected the deranged admirer, she even smiled and said to me, “Kara, I think you two are actually pretty compatible. Why don’t you just marry him?” I wore a look of restrained anger. My tone was cold as ice. “If you’re so eager to get married, why don’t you accept his confession yourself?” Wendy raised an eyebrow, flipped her curled hair over her shoulder, and sneered, “Kara, stop pretending. You know exactly how much Mom hates you. If I were you, I would’ve been too ashamed to stay in this house a long time ago.” Her father was an alcoholic who abused her mother. After her parents divorced, he took revenge by running her mother over with a car. I had always felt there was something twisted about her, but she hid it well. She was jealous of my happy family and wanted to replace me, to become part of it herself. She succeeded. Mom, moved by her fragility and pitiful act, trusted and pitied her completely. My gaze turned icy as I looked at her. “The blood ties between Mom and me can never be severed. You’re nothing but a pathetic clown.” My words enraged her. She picked up scissors and began cutting the cotton doll—the one Dad, Mom, and I had made together. It was the last thing Dad had left me and the last remaining memory of our family. My face flushed with anger. I grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it at her. A surge of satisfaction rose in my chest when I saw the blood at her temple. All the years of humiliation and lies she had inflicted on me finally erupted. However, a sudden force struck me. I was shoved down onto the shattered glass. Chapter 5 The palm of my hand was cut open, and blood would not stop flowing. Mom’s voice, thick with anger, rang in my ears. “Kara, I knew it. You’ve always been cruel at heart!” Mom still would not listen to a word I said. In her eyes, everything I did was wrong. It was just like how she was convinced I was constantly bullying Wendy, that poor, fragile girl. However, even if I wanted to explain everything, to talk to her properly about all the years of pain and injustice, there was no way I could do it anymore. I was already dead, killed by Wendy. Pain surged through me, and it felt as though my soul itself was being torn apart. No matter how much Mom scolded me, I would not be able to answer her. I would no longer be able to quietly leave her gifts to try to fix our broken relationship. All I could do now was lie in the cold morgue, hoping that she would recognize my body and seek justice for me. … Just as Mom was about to open the fridge to cook, Officer Zane’s call pulled her back to the police station. I wondered if she would blame me. After all, my death was ruining the time she could be spending with Wendy. Officer Zane held up a transparent evidence bag and handed it to her. “Moira, this was found by forensics. There’s a receipt inside the victim’s coat pocket.” The receipt was stained heavily with blood. Mom lifted it under the light and examined it carefully. Slowly, she read out the store name, “Ethera Boutique…” A wave of bitter grief surged up my throat. I had gone there to get Mom's birthday gift. Just then, her phone rang. A gentle female voice came through. “Hello, may I ask if you know Ms. Kara Summers?” Mom clicked her tongue and answered impatiently, “Yes. Has she caused trouble again?” There was a brief silence on the other end. Then, the voice hesitated. “She picked up the dress she ordered, but she left behind an accessory. We can’t reach her, and you're her listed emergency contact.” Mom was confused and replied, “I’ll come by tomorrow. Can you give me the address…” She wrote it down as she spoke. Officer Zane’s expression suddenly turned serious. “Moira, that address matches the one on the receipt!” Mom shrugged indifferently. “Probably just a popular shop. What is Kara even up to this time?” However, Officer Zane shook his head. “You should call her. Check if she’s safe. I have a bad feeling about this.” Mom frowned in annoyance. “Wesley, why are you so worried about her? Right now, identifying the victim is what matters most.” She was so close to the truth yet still so far from me. She was such an exceptional criminal psychologist. How could she so instinctively overlook the boutique? Perhaps it was because she had always hated everything connected to me. On the back of the receipt, I had written the pickup date. Yet Mom could not recognize my handwriting. Officer Zane asked her, “Can you infer the victim’s profile from the handwriting?” Mom’s tone softened as she shifted into professional mode. “The victim likely has large eyes, a high nose bridge, and a slender build. Probably around 5'4". She comes from a good family. From the handwriting, she seems gentle and kind, yet emotionally suppressed. She lacks security and feels lonely.” She paused for a moment. Was it because the reconstructed image of the victim looked like me? She could analyze a victim's mind… Chapter 6 Yet, Mom had never once tried to understand what I was feeling. It always felt like we were just a step away from each other. One step away from making things right, and one step away from her realizing the victim was me. Officer Zane’s tone grew firmer. He was clearly dissatisfied with her attitude. “Moira, you fell seriously ill back then. Before you came back to work, Kara treated the entire task force to dinner just so they’d take care of you.” Mom knitted her brows together in suspicion. “Wesley, don’t joke around. You don’t need to make things up just to speak well of Kara.” “You keep saying she doesn’t care about you, but when you were hospitalized and unconscious last year, she was the one running herself to exhaustion, bringing you homemade meals every single day!” Officer Zane snapped in frustration. A trace of self-mockery flickered in my eyes. All these years, everyone could see how much I cared about Mom. However, to her, I was nothing but cold and heartless. Mom finally gave in under Officer Zane’s earnest persuasion. Masking her irritation, she dialed my number. Still, all she got was the cold, mechanical voice repeating over and over that the phone was switched off. Annoyance crossed her face as she muttered, “Not picking up my calls? Fine. It's better if you never contact me again. Honestly, I wish I had never had a daughter like you.” Officer Zane brought Mom and the team to the boutique. A surge of excitement I could not suppress rose within me. The case was finally about to move forward! As for Mom, I no longer expected her to react to my death at all. The shop owner was an elegant middle-aged woman. After hearing the police officers explain their purpose, she checked the records using the receipt. “Oh, this one. That pretty girl ordered it. She said it was a birthday gift for her mother and even asked me to make sure the craftsmanship was extra fine.” The shop owner pulled up the surveillance footage. The video began to play. Officer Zane stared at the screen in shock. On it, I walked into the shop with a smile, chatting with the owner as we picked out styles for the dress. The owner sighed. “You’re not here about that brutal murder case that’s been all over the news, are you? I remember this girl clearly. She was gentle and meticulous. She spent a long time choosing the perfect color for her mother. I can’t imagine how devastated her mom must be.” Mom stood frozen, staring at the screen. The air seemed to freeze in place. The cicadas outside and the shop’s heavy silence blended into something eerily harmonious. “Check again. How could it be her? Kara is probably off somewhere having fun!” Mom grabbed the shop owner’s hand. The owner was startled for a moment and sounded a little aggrieved. “The order matches exactly. It’s the same piece and the same date. It’s actually the most expensive one in my store. Hardly anyone ever buys it.” Mom’s breathing grew ragged. Veins bulged on the back of her hands. Her nails dug into her skin. She kept muttering under her breath, “The head hasn’t been found yet. It can’t be Kara. People like her don’t die easily.” Just then, Officer Zane’s phone rang. It was the medical examiner. The voice on the other end was urgent, almost sharp with tension. “Officer Zane, is Moira with you? The DNA results are back. The victim is her daughter—Kara Summers!”