Kuebiko

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Wondering was what dumb men did. The ancient detective wondered. His mind was simply a fuse overloaded by all the girl would tell him. It was a pity that he was so unlike the likes of her. The questions he could have taken the risk to ask. Each exclamation would remain unanswered until the lake rose further higher.

Especially dead girls did not talk. She sealed her lips in waiting.

"All I want to know is who killed her," the detective posed the question wearing the mask of a statement.

"Really, detective? You ought to tell me," the student replied.

"Everything you told me gives me no clue to who killed her," he said.

At that moment, his deputy entered the icebox. A ghost in his own right, he was as far away as she was closer in. He held a petroleum bag sealed with secrets.

"Locals dragged the lake for us. Our guys wouldn't dare go around that crumbling bridge. That thing could crush you if you dive under it," he explained.

"Locals found that?" The detective asked.

"Locals found it, but they won't touch it," he said.

In a motion infected with his own bravery, the detective unsealed the bag. Inside was a backpack belonging to another decade. The once brown leather was no longer that color. The edges where the leather was bound together frayed, untangled by the threads bearing down on it.

"All they sent with me. There are more where that came from. We fished a white one with blue and purple stripes out of it an hour ago," he explained. "And detective, that girl wasn't alone down there. There are dozens more bodies in that lake. They all have their backpacks on 'em."

Raised eyes looked to the student to explain. All the detective saw was an empty chair. There was no sign anyone had ever sat across from him.

"Sir, who are you talking to? There is no one in here," the deputy said.