The Current Path of Delusions: the Mental Puzzle of Modern Criminal Investigation

The rain hitting the windshield was like scratching with thousands of fingers, and blue veins appeared in Chen Mo's hand holding the steering wheel. In the rearview mirror, the red shadow appeared again - the fiancée in a white dress stood in the middle of the bridge across the river, her wet hair sticking to her pale face and smiling at him. "Don't follow me this time." He whispered to the empty seat. The moment the siren tore through the rain curtain, the red shadow jumped down. When he arrived at the scene, forensic doctor Zhou Zhengzheng used tweezers to pick out half a piece of plastic hairpin from the deceased's clenched palm. The metal teeth were stuck in the flesh and blood: "Look, Xiaoya's painting tools." Chen Mo suddenly rushed to the guardrail and retched, and rainwater mixed with gastric juice flowed into his collar. He clearly saw his fiancée's body hanging under the bridge pier, but the real body was still on a stretcher a hundred meters away. "Captain Chen is sick again?" The young police officer asked in a low voice. Zhou Zheng put the blood-stained hairpin into the evidence bag, and the zipper sound sounded like a sneer: "His PTSD is more difficult to deal with than the murderer."