EDGE by Kôji Suzuki

generations of their family tree, thoroughly examined their financial obligations and collateral, and the possibility of any extramarital affairs. She’d visited the children’s schools, spoken to their friends to see if the children had had any special issues, and followed up on every possible lead.
    All told, Saeko had easily devoted over a hundred hours to the investigation. For the director to redo the same work would take him even longer, given that he lacked Saeko’s experience. From that perspective, it would be a lot more economical to use Saeko’s information, not to mention a lot quicker. Shows like these usually didn’t have a moment of production time to waste.
    A man in his thirties emerged into the lobby, holding a cell phone to his ear as he glanced about. It was Hashiba, the director. Saeko got up from the sofa and walked over to meet him. As soon as Hashiba saw her, he ended his phone call, smiled, and bowed.
    “Thank you for waiting.”
    He was dressed casually, in slim jeans and a denim shirt, and Saeko noticed that he had perfectly flat abs. Somehow he gave off a more innocent vibe than he had at their first meeting.
    Was he this good looking?
Saeko cocked her head with uncertainty as she followed Hashiba inside.
    4 There were seven people in the meeting room, including Saeko. Oki the producer and chief director Hashiba sat at the head of the table, with directors Kagayama and Nakamura on the left and writers Shigeta and Satoyama on the right. Saeko was the only woman in the group.
    “Thank you for coming all this way,” Oki said by way of greeting. Then he got straight to the point, explaining the goal of the project. “Here’s the concept. We want to zero in on the pathological phenomenon in modern Japan—the disappearance of 100,000 people each year—incorporating a sort of public investigation element. Ideally, the show would lead to the resolution of some cases.”
    Saeko wanted the same thing. She had hoped her reporting would at least bring the investigation closer to the truth. She’d love to have discovered the clue that would lead to the answer—she needed the catharsis that would come with cracking the case. But reality hadn’t conformed to her wishes.
    When Saeko made no response, Oki continued. “By the way, Ms. Kuriyama, I’m sure there are things you found out that didn’t make it into your article. Could you please give us a general explanation once more of everything you’ve found out about the case?”
    Saeko opened the file in front of her, trying not to make eye contact with any of the men. “As you all know, the four members of the Fujimura family disappeared suddenly on the night of January 22nd of this year.”
    “Can we be sure they disappeared on the night of January 22nd?” Hashiba asked promptly.
    “To be precise, it was sometime between 10 p.m. that evening and 7 a.m. the next morning.”
    “You have a specific time frame?”
    “Yes. At around 10 p.m. that evening, a friend of Haruko’s called the house and spoke with her.”
    “Haruko?”
    “Here. Let’s go over the family tree once more,” Saeko replied, passing out copies of a diagram that showed the Fujimuras’ familial relationships at a glance. “There you have the four members of the Fujimura household. Kota, the husband, age 49, an employee of the local Japan Agricultural Cooperative; his wife Haruko, age 45, a high school teacher in Ina City; daughter Fumi, a first year student at Takato High School; and son Keisuke, a second year student at Takato Junior High. We know that all four were at home at 10 p.m. on the 22nd.”
    “This was confirmed by Haruko’s friend who called?” Hashiba wanted to know.
    “Of course she didn’t talk to each individual family member,” Saeko replied. “But Haruko’s friend has stated that when she spoke to Haruko, everything seemed normal, and she could hear the voices of the other family members in the living room over the line.”
    “I see. But