Everyone fell silent, tacitly agreeing to the proposal. Crime Analysis itself is all about relying on one’s own abilities.

“Hahaha!” Quinn Foster burst out laughing, exuding a laid-back air completely different from what he had in the screening room. Waving his hand, he boasted to everyone, “The Vault, well, she’s my client. You all probably know her. No other strengths, just smart. No other weaknesses, just too smart! Everyone, pay attention, give her a tip or a like, let’s all learn from each other. Newcomers need everyone’s support to grow, especially this one, who’s a bit strapped for cash. Thank you, thank you!”

Henry Harris glanced at him, not understanding why he was so excited and proud, but still turned to Quinn Shelby and said, “Help me follow her.”

Quinn Shelby: “??” Are you serious?

·

Julian Grant was just about to drive to the victim’s home. As soon as he sat in the driver’s seat, his phone in his pocket started vibrating non-stop, as if electrified. He fastened his seatbelt, took it out for a look, and found that the content was actually Justin Hall’s personal information.

The questions raised by The Vault were all clearly listed, each numbered.

Julian Grant was stunned, then said, “The investigation results are out.”

The Vault leaned in to check, getting close to him, and said, “So fast? Looks like this year’s grassroots are working hard.”

Julian Grant fell silent.

This had nothing to do with the diligence of the grassroots; it was all about the parameters.

Didn’t he know what his subordinates were thinking? This was definitely blatant flattery toward The Vault. They’d all been dumbed down by Susan Scott.

Shameless.

Chapter 62: Old Grudges

The phone screen was small, so even if The Vault looked closely, she could only make out a few pictures. Any closer and she’d be right up against Julian Grant’s shoulder.

Julian Grant turned the screen and read out the content.

“Justin Hall was originally a bus driver. Married, with a harmonious family. When his wife was giving birth, she suffered a sudden hemorrhage and, due to limited medical resources, couldn’t be saved in time and passed away. The fetus didn’t survive either, leaving him all alone.”

Below was a photo, taken not long before his wife’s death.

The man in the photo looked gentle and refined, grinning foolishly at the camera. His hair was neatly trimmed, his clothes clean and simple, clearly a sunny and particular person, with a bit of endearing goofiness. Back then, his hair was jet black, his eyes sparkled with life, and he looked quite young—it was hard to imagine he’d become what he was twelve years later. It was like he was a completely different person.

The difference wasn’t just twelve years; it was probably a whole different life.

The Vault stared at the man in the photo for a long time, then slowly said, “So, unable to cope with the blow, he gave up on himself, abandoned his job and decent life, and in the end became a sanitation worker just to get by? He had no other family?”

“It wasn’t just simple misfortune.” Julian Grant’s expression grew colder, his gaze darkening. “Justin Hall’s wife gave birth prematurely, but the due date was only about half a month away. While celebrating the New Year in the countryside, his wife accidentally fell. Justin Hall called an ambulance and took her to the nearest hospital. But the vehicle was delayed too long on the road, and by the time they arrived, she was already unconscious. In the end, both mother and child couldn’t be saved.”

Julian Grant swiped his finger, revealing more content.

“According to the traffic police report, that day, it was D. Daniels driving, occupying both lanes and blocking the ambulance, causing the patient to miss the best window for rescue. The driver kept honking and shouting, but D. Daniels ignored it. In the end, a driver behind the ambulance couldn’t stand it anymore and rammed him aside, finally letting the ambulance through.”

The Vault’s lips pressed into a straight line, and she pulled away from Julian Grant.

“Afterwards, D. Daniels claimed he was wearing headphones and listening to music, got distracted, didn’t hear the shouts or realize the honking was directed at him, and didn’t see the ambulance in the rearview mirror. In the end, he was only fined, given penalty points, and detained for ten days.” Julian Grant said, “This D. Daniels is Thomas Daniels.”

The Vault sneered, “So how do you judge that?”

Julian Grant continued scrolling, pulling up another report image.

“Justin Hall once called the police, saying Thomas Daniels blocked the road on purpose. Thomas Daniels lost a company contract that day and was in a bad mood, so when he heard the ambulance behind him, he refused to give way, even deliberately slowed down to drag things out. He said this himself, but since there was no evidence, the police couldn’t file a case, and it ended up going nowhere. Also, the law’s punishment for maliciously blocking ambulances isn’t strong enough—at most, it’s just an administrative penalty.”

The Vault said, “Unless he’s deaf or has a hearing impairment, how could a veteran driver make such a serious mistake?”

Julian Grant thought the same.

Such a clumsy excuse—everyone knew Thomas Daniels did it on purpose: Justin Hall, the traffic police, or the doctors. But no one could do anything about it.

Julian Grant cursed, “Scum.”

The Vault slowly turned to stare at him.

Julian Grant said, “What?”

The Vault replied, “Scum is still human. For this kind, you should just call them a beast.”

Julian Grant took the lesson: “Beast.”

The Vault: “Animal.”

Off to the side, Henry Harris nodded in quiet agreement. A sensible person.

The admin popped up a warning: 【Mind your values, no foul language allowed】

The Vault and Julian Grant both ignored it, but didn’t continue discussing the art of cursing.

Julian Grant refocused and analyzed, “Based on the current information, Justin Hall witnessed his wife and child die in agony because of Thomas Daniels’s selfishness. The culprit didn’t take responsibility and even went on to live a good life, without a shred of guilt. After learning this, he must have harbored resentment. He has enough motive for murder. Also, he happened to be at the scene of Thomas Daniels’s death, was the first to discover the body, and claimed not to know the victim. But after such an experience, there’s no way he’d forget Thomas Daniels.”

The Vault closed her eyes, leaned back in the chair, and calmly added, “But, he might have said he didn’t know the victim just to avoid trouble and keep the police from suspecting him. That kind of instinctive reaction is normal.”

Julian Grant glanced down at the screen and continued, “According to Justin Hall’s usual work schedule, he would have cleaned this area before four o’clock, but today, because he wasn’t feeling well, he didn’t show up until 5:15. Although it’s unclear if this timing change is related to Thomas Daniels’s death, it’s a strange coincidence that something happened today. Maybe he’s trying to blur the time he found the body. Thomas Daniels reeked of alcohol, and Justin Hall deliberately shifted the timeline, perhaps to ensure that when he arrived, Thomas Daniels was already dead.”

The Vault: “Or it really was just a coincidence. Sometimes, the hardest thing to believe is coincidence, but it might just be the truth.”

Julian Grant: “Justin Hall clearly had a phone on him, so why did he walk to the convenience store to call the police? It feels like he’s trying to cover something up.”

“He might be telling half the truth,” The Vault said. “He hated Thomas Daniels so much, he didn’t want to be associated with him—even seeing the corpse didn’t move him. But after leaving, he regretted it and decided to call the police for him, without thinking much, so he went into the nearby convenience store.”

Julian Grant turned off his phone, set it on the rack beside him, and asked, “Which possibility do you lean toward?”

“My feelings don’t matter,” The Vault said. “The point is, there are a lot of suspicious points about Justin Hall.”

Julian Grant asked, “Should we bring Justin Hall back for another statement?”

The Vault thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Let’s wait for the autopsy results and the analysis of the scene’s footprints. We don’t even know how he died yet—there’s not much to gain from questioning. Have someone keep an eye on Justin Hall in secret. If he does anything unusual, bring him in. Also, keep an eye on the surveillance. Tell them to report any findings promptly.”

Julian Grant: “So, go see the victim’s family first?”

The Vault: “Yes.”

Julian Grant drove to Thomas Daniels’s home.

Thomas Daniels was a clothing manufacturer. He owned a large factory, had a top-selling shop on a wholesale website, and also ran offline businesses. The main store was near the city center, targeting the low-cost market, and business was decent.

The factory, shop, and residence were all some distance from the scene of death, and not in the same area, so it was clear Thomas Daniels wasn’t killed on his way to or from work or home.

The biggest mystery at the moment was why Thomas Daniels went to the suburbs and ended up collapsed on the grass. Who drove the dead-drunk man there? And when?

When The Vault and the others arrived, the lady of the house, Sylvia Shaw, wasn’t home. Reportedly, after hearing the bad news, she was so distraught that, accompanied by a police officer, she went to the school to be with her son. She had cried to the point of nearly fainting and was now calming down. She would return home once she felt a bit better.