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The house in question was on the corner, an old building of Japanese construction. I looked over the wall and spotted a large garden with a doghouse at the far end. The doghouse looked handmade, like a wooden box, and there was a stake driven into the ground next to it, around which the dog’s leash was tied.
The dog had big eyes, and the moment it saw me, it began barking furiously, jumping around. It was small enough that even a child could carry it easily.
I moved away from the house, hiding myself in a thicket a safe distance away. There were no lights near me, and I was surrounded by darkness.
I checked my watch. It was dark out, but when I pressed the button on my watch, a light inside it turned on so I could read the display. It was ten, the same time they had last heard Pavlov bark two weeks ago. If the kidnapper was coming here tonight, it would be soon.
The ground beneath me was covered in leaves, and the slightest movement shook the branches of the bushes around me. It was early fall, so it was still warm during the day, but come night, it was a little chilly.
I reached into my jacket pocket, touching the hilt of the knife inside, which I had brought with me just in case.
If I did catch a glimpse of the kidnapper, I had no intention of turning the criminal in. I intended to simply watch from a distance, unseen—so it was unlikely I would need the weapon, yet I had brought one of the knives from the knife set with me anyway, without really thinking about it. The naked blade made it easy to cut myself, so I carried it in a leather case I had bought for it.
I enjoyed watching people carry out unusual crimes. This hobby had once led me to encounter a man who had killed several women. I’d stolen a set of twenty-three knives from that man’s apartment, which I now kept hidden behind a bookcase in my room. When I was at home, I often gazed at the reflection of the ceiling light in the metal of the blades—the white light gleamed like it was wet.
Occasionally, my reflection in the blade would transform into the faces of the women those knives had killed. I knew this was just a trick of the mind, but I felt like their suffering and despair had stained the knives forever.
The knives were a little too much for me. I should never have brought them home. I felt like the gleam in that metal surface was telling me to use them.
I checked my watch again, turning the light on and reading the display. It was Wednesday now. Not a single person had passed the whole time I’d sat in the bush.
I wondered where the kidnapper lived. If I knew that, I might be able to narrow down the list of places to wait. At any rate, it seemed obvious I hadn’t seen the kidnapper that day.
Ten minutes later, I left the thicket and returned home.
My parents were asleep, but Sakura was studying for exams. When she heard me come home, she came downstairs, asking where I’d been. I told her I’d been to the convenience store.
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