Chapter 37
Chang Ting stood in the elevator and reflected, feeling that his suspicion of Song Zhou came from two points.
First, Song Zhou’s girlfriend “painted” Xu Candong to death, which was indirectly related to the case; second, he was a doctor and had access to anesthetics.
Apart from these two points, there is no other basis.
He looked up at the camera on top of the elevator.
Unlike the tenant areas, the hospital is heavily guarded with cameras, from the ward building to the main gate. If anyone wanted to verify whether Song Zhou left the hospital on the night of the murder, a quick check would reveal it.
There was also the tough old man who could prove Song Zhou's alibi. There was also a shoe size that didn't match the murderer's footprints.
Song Zhou looked kind and polite, spoke gently, and was considerate to his patients. The murderer must have been a cruel and decisive person.
According to criminal profiling theory, the two images couldn't be linked. The man in black who disappeared on Spring Branch Street was more likely to fit the description.
Chang Ting reflected on himself for once, and felt that he had indeed been unreasonable in pestering Song Zhou.
At this moment, Zhou Zhengzheng called. He pressed the answer button as he walked out of the elevator.
"Master, I walked around the crime scene again and found a bottled water distribution station. Their water barrels were those 19-liter purified water barrels. They were the same ones that were half burned at the scene."
Chang Ting's spirit trembled. "Watch closely, don't alarm the owner yet, wait for me to come over."
*
Song Zhou finally persuaded the old man in bed 29 to return to his bed.
He returned to the doctor's duty room, stood with his back to the door in front of the west-facing window, just in time to see the large, uneven rooftops of the tenant area outside the hospital wall.
It was beyond his expectation that Chang Ting would find him so quickly.
"With such a sharp nose, is he a police dog? I really underestimated him. I have to be more careful next time."
Song Zhou muttered to himself, and it was as if a mask was removed from his face. His gentleness disappeared, revealing the sharp coldness underneath.
His gaze passed through the window glass and fell on the wall separating the hospital from the tenant area. He slowly traced the intricate alleys, retracing the route he had taken that morning.
The ward doctor's night shift is from 6pm to 8am, usually once a week, but it is often adjusted depending on which doctor is busy.
At six o'clock that Sunday evening, Song Zhou, as usual, dressed in off-white casual clothes and light camel-colored sheepskin loafers, arrived at the doctor's duty room in the rehabilitation ward. His colleagues on the day shift had already left, leaving him alone in the room.
According to regulations, the doctor on duty needs to patrol the ward every two hours.
However, the rehabilitation department mostly houses patients with mobility impairments. Each ward has a 24-hour nursing staff, and the role of the on-call doctor is mainly to be prepared. Unless the patient has an emergency, a doctor is generally not needed.
Therefore, this ward inspection system is usually not implemented properly, and no one cares if the doctor sleeps on the small bed in the duty room all night.
The lights in the ward were turned off at 9:30. As midnight approached, the corridor was completely silent and no one was walking around.
The door to the duty room suddenly opened, and Song Zhou walked out in a white coat. Standing at the door, he glanced at the nurses' station. Under the white coat, he was no longer wearing off-white trousers, but a black suit, and his shoes had changed to a pair of black sneakers.
The nurse on duty was sleeping soundly on the counter.
That was right. An hour ago, he had dropped a crushed sleeping pill into the nurse's water glass.
Instead of going to the elevator, he turned to the emergency passage next to the duty room and entered the stairwell.
He had already adjusted the angle of the camera in the corridor so that it could not capture the section from the duty room door to the stairwell.
There is no surveillance in the stairwell from top to bottom. Even if you occasionally see someone smoking on the stairs, no one will be suspicious of a doctor in a white coat.
He went all the way down to the first floor and encountered no one. The stairwell led to the morgue floor. It was late at night, so no one would be hanging around there.
The side door on one side is not locked. This is a large hospital, and people die every night. This door is the entrance for transporting corpses.
He carefully looked around to make sure no one was at the side door before walking out. He didn't walk along the cement road, but directly into the green belt.
There is an inconspicuous path among the trees in the green belt. It was not built intentionally, but was trampled out by people walking on it frequently.
As he walked, he took off his white coat, folded it casually, and stuffed it between the branches of a tree, hiding it tightly. His movements were so smooth that he barely stopped walking.
Because even the branch where the white coat was placed was chosen by him long ago, and it wasn't the first time he had hidden it. He had done the same thing countless times.
Under the white coat, he was wearing a loose black shirt and black pants. This outfit was worn directly over the original off-white casual suit, making him look fatter.
As he continued to walk forward, he took off his glasses and stuffed them into his pocket. At the same time, he took out black gloves and a black mask and put them on. Then he took out a black baseball cap from his arms and put it on his curly head. The brim of the cap was pulled down low, and the eyes exposed at the edge looked much sharper without the cover of glasses.
The disguise was skillful and smooth, as if it had been rehearsed countless times.
The short walk through the woods to the wall was complete.
It was during these few steps that his entire posture suddenly changed.
The back leaned forward slightly, the shoulders were inward, the neck leaned forward, the steps became larger, the toes were pointed slightly outward, the walking posture changed completely, the eyes and temperament also changed, from the original elegant and dignified to both relaxed and sharp, as if it was a different person.
As his posture changed from being upright to being somewhat hunched, his height also decreased by a few centimeters.
The extent of the change is no less than that of a transfigured person. Even an acquaintance standing in front of the person would not recognize him.
There was a large wooden box at the foot of the wall.
He stepped onto the wooden box without hesitation, as if he had done this countless times, grabbed the wall with his gloved hands, and climbed up with a little force from his arms.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
