Chapter 103: The Murderer Has Been Caught?

Chapter 103: Chapter 103: The Murderer Has Been Caught?

Startled, I looked at Zeke Shaw and excitedly squeezed Asher’s hand.

’They caught the killer?’

’If they’ve caught one, it’s only a matter of time before they unravel the whole network!’

Noticing I was clutching his hand, Asher looked up at me.

I took a deep breath, waiting for Zeke Shaw to hang up.

Zeke Shaw hung up and glanced back at me. "Zane caught someone. I don’t have time to take you guys back, so just come with me."

Zeke Shaw floored it, speeding toward the hospital.

The whole way there, I was thrilled and full of anticipation. ’Who on earth is the killer?’

’Who killed me?’

’I was dying to know.’

Asher was silent the whole way, probably because he knew he’d made a mistake. He kept his head down with a pitiful look on his face, afraid I would scold him.

When the car stopped in the hospital parking lot, I couldn’t wait to get out and run after Zeke Shaw.

Asher followed behind us. After a few steps, he stopped and stared coldly at a corner near the entrance to the inpatient building.

It was pitch-black there; nothing was visible.

I stopped and looked back at Asher. "Asher?"

Asher turned to look at me and walked over.

"Hurry up." I was too eager to see the killer, so I turned and started running again.

As I glanced back, I thought I saw Asher point toward that corner and then make a throat-slitting gesture.

When I looked back again, he had that same innocent and pure look on his face.

In my memory, seeing Asher’s face right before I died was the first time I could put a real face to the image of an angel.

Now that I was used to seeing him, I felt more and more that too many things were hidden beneath that pure, angelic face.

「The Hospital Room.」

Zane and a few others had a guy pinned to the floor. Erin Whittaker, now conscious, was cowering in a corner, trembling all over with a deathly pale face.

For a woman like Erin Whittaker, who had been spoiled rotten by Julian Fletcher, these successive shocks were an immense blow.

’I bet she won’t sleep well for a long time, constantly worrying that the killer will come for her.’

’This is her retribution.’

Asher was right that day. Death isn’t the worst punishment; living is more painful.

Living every minute of every second in guilt, loneliness, and fear—that is the cruelest punishment for a person.

"Lowell, this kid... he’s a minor," Zane said anxiously, handing the bagged weapon to Zeke Shaw.

It was a syringe.

It must have contained a lethal drug.

"Someone gave me money... to come here and inject this stuff into her IV. I was just doing a job for the money!" the teenager shouted at Zeke Shaw. "Don’t kill me."

Zeke Shaw’s expression was grim. He stepped forward and grabbed the teen’s collar. "This is murder! Where are your parents!"

The teenager was tall and wearing a white coat. He looked to be about fifteen or sixteen.

"Let me go!" The teenager struggled, trying to run.

"Take him away!" Zeke Shaw was furious. If this kid wasn’t the killer, then he must have been put up to it.

"Check on his guardians, his school," Zeke Shaw said, exasperated. This killer was just too brazen.

"I don’t have parents! They died a long time ago! Don’t arrest me, please don’t arrest me! I have a little brother, he’s sick, he needs money! Please, my brother will die!" the teen cried out to Zeke Shaw, dropping to his knees. "Please, I know I was wrong, I know I was wrong. Don’t take me."

Zeke Shaw kicked the teen. "I don’t care what your reasons are, you were about to commit murder! Don’t you even have that basic understanding?"

The teen slumped to the ground, kneeling, and suddenly lost control. "What do you people know?! All you do is stand on your moral high ground! Look at me, look at us! We’ll die without money!"

After shouting, the teen looked resentfully at Erin Whittaker, who was still trembling in the corner. "The person who hired me said this woman deserves to die! Why are you protecting a bad person?!"

Zeke Shaw stood rooted to the spot, momentarily unable to answer.

After a long moment, Zeke Shaw finally spoke. "Take him back to the station."

Zane grabbed the teen to lead him away.

"Don’t take me! My little brother is waiting for me..." the teen wailed, trying to break free from Zane’s grasp and run.

Zeke Shaw strode forward and pinned him against the wall. "Let me tell you something. The law deals with bad people, it’s not your place to carry out vigilante justice! Who do you think the person who put you up to this is? He’s the real monster!"

Zeke Shaw was losing his composure as well. Ever since the first murder, he had been getting less than three hours of sleep a night.

The killer was taunting him, taunting the police, taunting everyone.

In Zeke Shaw’s eyes, no matter the killer’s motives, anyone who murdered so many people deserved to die.

The teen was taken away, and I leaned against the wall, a little disappointed.

As Zane dragged him past me...

His eyes met mine, and his mouth opened, as if he was trying to say something to me.

I frowned, looking at the teen in confusion.

’Is he talking to me?’

’What is he trying to say?’

’Do I... know him?’

"This kid... he was probably put up to it, right?" I asked quietly.

Zeke Shaw leaned against the wall, weakly striking his own forehead.

He looked like he was in real pain.

If they didn’t catch the killer, more people would die. He was wracked with guilt and self-blame.

"I could have... I could have been earlier..." Zeke Shaw muttered in frustration.

He could have found Cecilia Caldwell earlier.

The doctor said that if he had found her just one day sooner, Cecilia Caldwell might have survived.

BANG! He slammed his fist into the wall, and the back of his hand started to bleed.

I rushed forward to stop him, but I didn’t know how to comfort him.

Zeke Shaw turned and walked to the smoking area, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

Asher and I stood at the entrance, both of us silent.

"Want one?" Zeke Shaw asked, looking at Asher.

Asher shook his head. "Smoking is bad for your health."

"Heh..." Zeke Shaw gave a bitter laugh. "Then I’d better have a few more to calm my nerves."

Asher spoke again. "If you know it’s bad for your health, why do companies still produce them? Where is the source?"

’Where is the source of the evil?’

Zeke Shaw’s hand, which was lighting the cigarette, froze. He snapped his head up to look at Asher.

Asher was reminding him that the direction of their investigation had been wrong from the very beginning.

The police had been focused on the killer and the victims.

But understanding *why* the killer was murdering people was the key.

Since the killer’s plan for Erin Whittaker had been foiled, they should use this opportunity to follow the trail and work their way up the chain.

To find the so-called source of the evil.

...

It was 4:30 in the morning when we left the hospital.

The sky was beginning to lighten, but it was still dim and gloomy.

What I hated most was the darkness before dawn—the dead silence that inspired a strange sense of panic.

Erin Whittaker was traumatized and had a stress reaction. She only calmed down after being given a sedative.

I watched from outside the door. She said I was laughing at her, gloating over her misfortune.

And I was. I was laughing at her and gloating over her misfortune.

But I didn’t feel any satisfaction.

’I want her to experience the worst suffering in this world. This is far from enough.’

Leaving the hospital, we saw a little boy in the parking lot who looked about eight or nine years old.

He was very thin and pale. His nose was clearly bleeding, and his face was smeared and dirty where he had tried to wipe it away.

"Please, can you give me my brother back?" the little boy pleaded with Zeke Shaw, crying.

Obviously, this was the younger brother of the teen who had just been arrested.

"I’m begging you," the little boy cried, blood continuing to gush from his nose.

"My brother did it all for me."

Zeke Shaw took out a tissue and wiped the boy’s nosebleed.

A female officer ran over. "Lowell, this is the teen’s younger brother. He has leukemia... We just confirmed it. The teen and this boy are both orphans. They were never adopted and have been living on the streets. Their life... is basically supported by the older one stealing and robbing."

Zeke Shaw looked at the boy, then crouched down with a frown. "Your brother... has he always supported you by stealing?"

The little boy shook his head. "My brother doesn’t let me steal."

Zeke Shaw didn’t speak. He lowered his head in silence, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

He was probably thinking about the teen’s hysterical cries: *What do you know? You just stand on your moral high ground.*

*Criticizing other people’s lives...*

"Take care of him," Zeke Shaw said to the female officer before standing up and leaving.

I was about to leave too when I heard the little boy whisper beside me, "Silvia..."

I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the little boy in astonishment. ’They really do know me? Silvia Lynch?’

*(Darlings, you can go to sleep. I’ll post an extra Chapter for you all later.)*