The doctor had already been informed. He nodded calmly to the patients crowding at the door, signaling for them to wait outside, then got up to close the door and returned.

“Sit.” He casually dragged two round stools over for them, letting them make themselves comfortable. He straightened his white coat and sat down across from them.

Julian Grant said, “The main reason we’re here today is to ask about Harold Thornton.”

The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Dr. Thornton was a good person, and he was highly regarded in our hospital. He had regular features, a generous personality, and was easy to talk to. He got along well with both nurses and patients.”

Julian Grant scrutinized him subtly. “How much do you know about the surgery that led to the medical malpractice dispute?”

The doctor replied, “We all discussed it at the time.”

After all, as colleagues who had spent a lot of time in the operating room, it was inevitable to encounter similar situations.

His account of the surgery was almost identical to what the nurse had said—he trusted the results of the investigation and expressed sympathy for Harold Thornton’s tragedy.

This doctor, already advanced in years, was clearly much more experienced than the previous nurse. His tone and facial expressions shifted appropriately between emotions, yet he remained very composed, revealing little. Even The Vault couldn’t find an opening to get more out of him.

Julian Grant noticed the person beside him had changed posture, crossing their legs and becoming more relaxed, so he switched topics.

“Do you know about the relationship between Harold Thornton and Meredith Stone?”

The doctor lowered his voice. “Meredith Stone?”

Julian Grant: “The woman who accused Harold Thornton of sexual assault after becoming pregnant.”

“Oh, her. She came to our hospital, but she wasn’t my patient, so I don’t know her very well.” The doctor’s gaze dropped, looking at the corner of the table as he recalled, “On the surface, that girl seemed quiet and gentle. She liked to hang around Dr. Thornton, and would sometimes bring him food. I thought it was just a patient expressing gratitude—after all, Dr. Thornton had been married for a long time. Sigh, I really didn’t expect things to end up like this between them.”

Julian Grant asked, “Dr. Thornton was quite popular at the hospital, right?”

“Yes, he was good-looking, successful, and had a good temper. To be honest, I was a bit envious of his popularity with women.” The doctor smiled wryly, then added seriously, “But he usually kept his distance from patients. Our hospital doesn’t really approve of doctors getting too close to patients. Besides, everyone’s so busy—who has the time?”

“So, it was Meredith Stone who pursued him first?”

The doctor gave a faint smile, answering flawlessly, “How would I know if it was pursuit or just gratitude in private? But this patient did seem to like Dr. Thornton quite a bit.”

“Did Harold Thornton ever respond? Do you know when they started a romantic relationship?”

“How would I have time to pay attention to that?” The doctor picked up a thermos, unscrewed it, and took a slow sip, unhurried. “Dr. Thornton cared a lot about his reputation. Everyone at the hospital knew he was married. The few times I saw them together, they were just chatting—nothing suspicious. Later, that girl stopped coming to the hospital altogether. The sexual assault accusation came out of nowhere and shocked all of us.”

His glasses fogged up from the steam of his cup, obscuring the view behind him.

The Vault asked, “How was Dr. Thornton’s relationship with his wife?”

The doctor turned his head slightly toward her, probably finding her voice a bit odd.

“If you ask me, I can’t really say.” The doctor took off his glasses and carefully wiped them with his shirt. “Mrs. Thornton has her own job and rarely came by. I worked with Dr. Thornton for a long time, but I’ve only seen his wife once or twice. I heard they met through a family introduction, a blind date.”

He put his glasses back on, lowered his head, and sighed helplessly. “Honestly, in our line of work, working overtime and assisting in surgeries is normal. We don’t have much free time, so we don’t know much about others’ family matters. Dr. Thornton always had a good reputation. Before the incident, we all thought his family life was harmonious, but now that you ask, I can’t say for sure.”

Julian Grant nodded, his gaze wandering, and instinctively glanced back at The Vault. The Vault’s eyes were calm as water, half-lidded, and she looked back at him.

Their eyes met briefly in the air, but neither picked up on the other’s thoughts, and both looked away, puzzled.

Based on the statements from the two witnesses so far, Harold Thornton came across as a good-natured man wronged by false accusations, not much different from what Rachel Thornton had said.

If it was true, Julian Grant couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

The doctor raised his hand in a gesture. “I still have over a dozen more patients to see today, so…”

Julian Grant snapped back to attention. “Sorry to bother you, and thank you for your cooperation. Please, go ahead with your work.”

“Of course.” The doctor stood up to see them out. “But I’m curious—Dr. Thornton has been gone for so many years. Is Trident reopening the investigation because there’s something else behind Dr. Thornton’s case?”

Julian Grant slowed his pace and said, “It’s nothing. Trident just wants to do a feature on social hot topics. Harold Thornton’s case was never fully resolved, and the family hopes we can give them some closure.”

The doctor nodded in understanding. “I see.”

·

After leaving the hospital, it was almost noon. The two of them stood in the sunlight for a while, heard their stomachs rumble, and decided to pick a random noodle shop on the street to settle lunch.

The Vault started to miss Trident’s time adjustment function. In her view, anything that got in the way of satisfying her curiosity—like eating, sleeping, traveling, or using the bathroom—was a waste of life.

Julian Grant felt she misunderstood him deeply. “You seem to enjoy eating quite a bit, though.”

The Vault sighed gloomily. “I just go with the flow.”

Julian Grant: “…” Do you even have any shame?

Maybe he didn’t hide his look of disdain well enough, because The Vault shot him a sidelong glance, reached out, and tapped the air meaningfully. “Requesting mute.”

Julian Grant pursed his lips, didn’t argue, and walked straight into the shop ahead.

He got the message—she wanted him to shut up. At least she put it politely.

They had a simple meal, then drove off to find Charles Linton.

Trident’s information network was very powerful when it came to finding people. As long as the person wasn’t deliberately hiding, Trident could easily contact the target through account registration info. Susan Scott had already spoken with Charles Linton yesterday.

When Charles Linton learned over the phone that they were from the [Crime Analysis] studio, he readily agreed to their request and gave them his address. Since he still had to work and his job location changed, he could only ask Julian Grant and the others to make an appointment before coming.

During their brief conversation, Susan Scott had noted down some basic information.

After being released from prison, Charles Linton had been working at a renovation company. He wasn’t a formal employee, just tagging along with a familiar foreman from his village, doing carpentry work. It was tough, but enough to support his family.

When Julian Grant found him, he was helping with renovations at someone’s house.

The site was filled with the noise of various machines. Several burly workers were scattered around, their faces covered in dust, making it hard to tell who was who.

Julian Grant called out several times, and after a moment, someone finally stopped working and walked over.

Charles Linton had a slight limp—a lingering injury from a car accident. He hadn’t had much savings at the time, so he never got proper treatment. Then he went to prison, didn’t recover well, and was left with a chronic problem.

“So it’s you guys?” Charles Linton’s voice had a streetwise edge to it. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it, but it always sounded a bit mocking or sarcastic.

He patted his hair, shaking out a cloud of dust. “Do big companies require good looks for their employees now?”

The Vault said, “Not at all. Compared to my intelligence, my looks don’t even matter.”

Julian Grant unconsciously used an honorific: “…You’re too modest.”

Charles Linton walked to the stairwell outside, put one foot on a higher step, and squatted down in an ungraceful pose. It made him feel a bit more comfortable.

His hands were black with dust. He pulled a cigarette from his equally dirty pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag.

White smoke curled up, forming a screen between the three of them. The strong smell of tobacco quickly spread through the air.

The Vault and the others couldn’t find a good spot, so they stepped down two stairs, standing where they could meet his gaze, quietly waiting for him to speak.

Now that he finally had a chance to talk, Charles Linton didn’t know how to start.

“That Harold Thornton…” Charles Linton’s face wrinkled deeply, bitterness showing at the corners of his eyes and mouth, blurring the lines of his features. His loose, rough skin was proof enough of his years of hardship.