He remained very calm, looking around curiously as if witnessing something novel, and even had the leisure to keep sizing up the cramped room.

He wiped his nose and asked, “Comrades, what’s going on?”

His voice echoed in the empty room, sounding especially loud. Ethan Ford was startled by the sound of his own voice.

A colleague at the side slapped the table: “Keep pretending, go on.”

Ethan Ford shouted, “I’m not pretending!”

A police officer pressed his finger on the keyboard and interrogated, “Where were you last night?”

Ethan Ford: “I was just lying at home, sleeping.”

Colleague: “On the night of the 27th, Michael Wood called the police saying someone was following him. Was that person you?”

Ethan Ford was about to deny it when The Vault suddenly spoke: “Julia Campbell has already identified you. All we need to do is check the street surveillance to see if your white van was following Michael Wood’s car, and we’ll know if it was you. If you confess now, it’ll save us some work, and it’ll count as a good attitude in admitting your mistake.”

Her voice was as cold as the temperature, and her gaze was as deep as a cold pool. When Ethan Ford looked at her, he inexplicably felt a chill all over.

He shifted in his seat to sit up straight, trying to appear more confident. Then he tugged at the corner of his mouth, not daring to keep up his cheeky grin.

The Vault continued, “Around 1 a.m. today, you appeared at the entrance of Michael Wood’s neighborhood, sneaked in while the security guard was asleep, and then took the opportunity to kill Michael Wood.”

“Huh? I didn’t!” Ethan Ford cried anxiously. “Stalking and murder are two different things, right? I was just after money! Wait, is Michael Wood dead? How did he die?”

A colleague sneered, “You’re a good actor. Didn’t you go there last night? Didn’t you see?”

Ethan Ford: “I really didn’t see anyone!”

“What a coincidence?” The Vault curled her lips with interest. “The time you showed up just happens to be the time Michael Wood died. You didn’t see anyone—so did you see a corpse?”

The colleague chimed in, “Listen to yourself. In the middle of the night, he invites you to his house. Why couldn’t this be discussed during the day? Why wait until night?”

Ethan Ford: “He was drunk and said he wanted to talk business with me, so I… I just went, didn’t I?”

The officer asked, “How much was the business worth?”

Ethan Ford mumbled, “Not much.”

Seeing he was still being evasive, the colleague slammed the table in anger: “Hey! You little punk!”

The Vault wasn’t angry. She just looked at the file in front of her and read from it unhurriedly: “Last night, Michael Wood was dead drunk and had no strength to resist. There’s a clear contusion on the back of his head, and the time of death matches your movements.”

The Vault went on, “Michael Wood had a pretty good reputation. We investigated all his friends and family, and the only one who had a falling out with him was you. You found his weakness and blackmailed him. Someone who can do that is definitely greedy, but Michael Wood was a cautious man. So you two couldn’t reach an agreement, argued, and you accidentally killed him, then fled in panic.”

Ethan Ford: “How many times do you want me to say it? I didn’t see him!”

The Vault looked up, her gaze clearly falling on him, yet it was as if she wasn’t really seeing him: “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this. Telling you to speak the truth is sincere advice, to help yourself. But you’re just wasting time.”

The Vault said, “Michael Wood was wealthy, with several famous internet celebrities under his name. Now he’s been murdered, and countless media reporters are waiting outside for an answer. The police can’t overlook any clue. Can you withstand a thorough police search and a media storm?”

Under her relentless pressure, Ethan Ford began to panic, a thin layer of cold sweat appearing on his forehead.

“I didn’t go in!” Ethan Ford pressed both hands on the table, and when he got really nervous, he couldn’t even speak fluently. “It was Michael Wood who called me and asked me to go over. But after I got there, I couldn’t reach them. I didn’t have a key to their place, and I didn’t dare shout for them outside. I thought he was messing with me. I know, home invasion is a serious crime, and if they wanted to frame me in the middle of the night, I’d have no way to defend myself. So I waited a bit, then left. You can check for yourselves—I never went inside!”

“The time you claim you waited was enough for you to commit murder.” The Vault sighed lightly. “The footprints in the room were wiped, but in the garden, there were only two sets of men’s shoe prints: size 44 and size 42. Michael Wood wore size 44, you must be size 42. Now we have both witness and physical evidence. What do you say to that?”

“It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!” Ethan Ford shouted frantically. “Don’t frame me!”

The light illuminated every change in Ethan Ford’s expression. His lips lost all color in an instant, turning deathly pale.

“But the neighborhood surveillance last night shows that only you appeared at that time. If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?” The Vault leaned in, resting her elbow on the table, and said lightly, “You have a record of stalking and extortion, and a bad relationship with Michael Wood. The timing of your appearance is just too coincidental. Do you think the judge and the public will believe you?”

Ethan Ford rolled his eyes anxiously and asked, “What about Julia Campbell? She hates Michael Wood even more!”

The Vault said, “She wasn’t home at the time.”

“What a coincidence? Go check her out!” Ethan Ford patted his chest. “It was Julia Campbell who hired me to investigate him in the first place!”

“I know, she told me.” The Vault asked, “So what did you find? Was Michael Wood cheating?”

“Michael Wood wasn’t cheating at all, I lied to her!” Ethan Ford lowered his voice, took a deep breath, and said cautiously, “Michael Wood is a pervert. He likes to wear women’s clothes. He even bought an apartment just to secretly cross-dress. He’s also impotent, hasn’t had kids for years. I saw him sneak to the hospital with his face covered to buy Viagra. He clearly can’t have children, but tells everyone it’s his wife’s problem. Hah, if his wife really had a problem, he’d have divorced her long ago. He’s not some loyal, devoted guy. I… I just wanted to use this to get some compensation from him. It was consensual, not blackmail.”

A colleague rolled his eyes: “What dictionary defines ‘consensual’ like that?”

The Vault asked, “When you got to Michael Wood’s door, did you hear anything?”

“No, nothing at all! It was completely quiet inside. The living room lights were on, but no one opened the door for me,” Ethan Ford said. “It really wasn’t me!”

The Vault picked up the file and stood up, saying coldly, “Let’s go check out the apartment you mentioned.”

Not long after, a police car took Ethan Ford to a residential complex on the outskirts of the city.

It happened to be rush hour in the city center, so it took them twice as long as usual to reach the entrance. Then they negotiated with the property management and called a locksmith to help open the door.

The Vault pushed open the door, her gaze sweeping inch by inch over the furnishings, stepping forward as if walking a path she’d traveled before. She murmured under her breath, “Cross-dressing…”

While one officer took photos for evidence, he remarked, “You really can’t judge a book by its cover. Michael Wood cared a lot about his reputation—he’d never let those photos get out. I think Ethan Ford is very suspicious.”

The Vault pressed her forehead and said, “This all feels so familiar. Something’s not right.”

A police officer came over and asked, “Captain, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” The Vault said. “You stay here and search carefully for any useful clues. I’m heading back to the station.”

“Okay.”

·

When The Vault returned to the station, the subordinate she’d sent to check records that morning had just come back as well.

“There are two… well, not sure if they’re good or bad, but big pieces of news.”

The policewoman took off her hat. Even though it was cold in February, she was sweating.

She raised the two file folders in her hand, and the surrounding colleagues immediately gathered around, waiting for her report.

“First, the police report you asked me to check, Captain. Ten years ago—actually, to be precise, it’s already been 11 years. In August 11 years ago, on the same day that Nancy Dawson committed murder, about two kilometers away, there was an armed robbery. The victim was stabbed in the abdomen, but fortunately the injury wasn’t serious and he was saved. The police found a set of fresh footprints at the scene, and based on the victim’s statement, determined the perpetrator was a young man wearing size 44 shoes, about 185 cm tall, weighing around 71 kg, dressed in fast-fashion clothes, and wearing worn-out shoes. All of these match Michael Wood. But because he was a witness in Nancy Dawson’s case at the time, it gave him an alibi and ruled him out as a suspect. To this day, the perpetrator hasn’t been found.”

A police officer frowned tightly: “Are you saying Michael Wood gave false testimony back then? So that note actually meant he was the one who stabbed someone?”

The colleague shrugged: “I don’t know. That’s our current guess. But very few people know about this, not even the victim saw the perpetrator’s face. It’s all very strange.”