I stared at Robin in shock.


    “Indeed, I’ve visited the crime scene, and there’s a possibility the killer was trying to mimic a serial


    killer’s MO, but we can’t rule anything out just yet, Robin nodded.


    “Dr. Quinton’s autopsy found that the fatal blow was to the back of the head. Someone struck him from


    behind with a clean and precise hit, knowing exactly where tond a deadly blow,” Finn mused


    thoughtfully. “The victim was probably on a call before he was attacked. There was a trace of a


    dropped phone on the ground, but the killer took it. Serial killers never take anything from their victims.


    It’s like they are confident the police can’t trace anything back to them.”


    “That means we’re looking at two separate cases,” I murmured.


    The serial killings and this Tangle Lane muttion case were not connected.


    “What about the victim’s identity? Didn’t you say he was a former psychiatrist? Connected to Phoebe


    Caldwell?” I looked at Finn anxiously.


    “I checked the victim, named Alex, a psychiatrist who won several awards in mental health years ago.


    At the hospital, he was always neck and neck with Damian, but the head preferred Alex, because Alex


    was better at navigating social waters,” Robin interjected.


    As soon as word of a murder on Tangle Lane broke, Robin had started digging.


    “But this guy left the mental hospital years before it was shut down,” Finn turned, ncing at the old


    hospital wing sealed off with crime scene tape. “And after the head was disciplined and took his own


    life in prison, most of the doctors moved to the current Sea City Mental Wellness Sanatorium. Alex left


    before the hospital’s closure, and I heard he went off to Cloud City to venture into business, got into


    fashion, and was making good money. He was always decked out in designer wear, even had a watch


    worth over three hundred thousand dors,” Finn pondered. “But when I checked hispany, it was


    just a front, and the so–called fashion business was just a smokescreen. What was he really profiting


    from…”


    “Then dig deeper, why guess here?” Robin looked at Finn disapprovingly.


    What a time to be specting.


    Finn’s phone vibrated on the hood of the car. He shot Robin a re and answered the call.


    “Officer Finn, we might have a break! We’ve checked the nearby surveince footage and pinpointed a


    suspect’s address, at 37 Coastline Avenue, in the demolition area.”


    I nced at Robin.


    37 Coastline Avenue, in the demolition zone, was Sea City’s so–calledst slum.


    ￡5 F 3 # 9 8 9 8 2 2 2 2~


    Carter’s sister Zoe lived there, a ce indeed teeming with all sorts.


    “I’ve got a lead to follow. If you are so capable, you can keep digging yourself.” Finn, still holding a


    grudge, pushed past Robin and drove off.


    Robin frowned and looked at me. “Shall we go?”


    I nodded.


    I hoped this murder case truly had nothing to do with the serial killings.


    37 Coastline Avenue.Têxt belongs to N?velDrama.Org.


    The police had zeroed in on a room on the third floor.


    By the time Robin and I arrived, they were breaking in to make an arrest.


    It was one of those tube buildings, with small spaces between floors, rooms packed tight together.


    The suspect lived on the east side, Carter’s sister on the west, ?eparated by the gap.


    When I looked westward, I saw Zoe in disarray, her gaze vacant as she watched the police action.


    Suddenly, her eyes met mine, and her lips curled into a smile.


    That smile sent a chill up my spine…


    “The killer…” Zoe suddenly pointed at me,ughing foolishly.


    Even though I couldn’t hear her, I could read her lips: the killer.


    Was she calling me the killer? What did she mean?


    “Watch out! Hold him!”