Henry Harris abruptly asked, “Are you familiar with Leonard Campbell?”

The Vault was momentarily stunned upon hearing the name, then replied as neutrally as possible, “Not very familiar.”

Henry Harris: “Then how would you evaluate him?”

The Vault pondered for a moment and answered, “It’s hard to say, I really don’t know him well. He’s someone with strong professional abilities, deeply devoted to his academic work. Being around him gives you a sense of pressure.”

The Vault disliked any feeling of being scrutinized or observed, which happened to be at odds with Leonard Campbell’s profession. Leonard Campbell had been studying social psychology for many years and had developed the habit of showing great patience and enthusiasm when dealing with special groups of people. What The Vault felt from this was the coldness of being treated as a sample. Moreover, as an elder, there was a distance in status between them, and The Vault was not good at interacting with him.

The Vault’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

Yes, she had always been used to being independent and solitary. She never thought of letting others participate in her life, nor did she have any desire to start a family. When it came to friendship, there was no need to think about the future—she hated pondering such questions.

This was the difference between her and Julian Grant, and she subjectively avoided such issues.

Henry Harris didn’t notice her distraction, simply responded briefly, and hung up before The Vault could ask anything further.

The Vault stared at the darkened screen, her thin figure motionless in the interplay of light and shadow. After about fifteen minutes, she finally snapped out of this meaningless trance, put on her coat, and left the room.

·

Henry Harris, wearing black high heels, stepped into the office and stood at the entrance. Her pupils shifted slightly as she quickly and discreetly scanned the details of the room.

The lighting was bright, and the furnishings straightforward. The small room bore many traces of daily life; trophies and photos were arranged in the corners, fully attesting to the owner’s life experience. Yet, despite the various odds and ends piled together, the scene did not appear messy.

With just a few glances, Henry Harris concluded that the office’s owner was a self-disciplined and gentle person.

“If you’re interested, feel free to look around.” The person behind the desk smiled and offered, “I’ve worked at Dalton University for over forty years. Many of these are memories with my students. You might even recognize some of the people in the photos.”

Henry Harris turned her gaze back and smiled at him. “Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s nothing. I used to work as a consultant and often cooperated with the Public Security Bureau, but now that I’m older, it’s not as convenient.” Leonard Campbell pointed to the wooden chair opposite him. “I wonder what brings Captain Harris to see me?”

Henry Harris took a photocopy out of her bag, politely placed it on the table, and pushed it over. “Do you recognize this handwriting?”

Leonard Campbell picked it up, carefully examined each character, his eyes moving as if recalling something, then placed the paper back on the table and said naturally, “This is indeed my handwriting, but I don’t remember when I wrote it.”

Henry Harris sat down across the table, maintaining eye contact, and asked, “Do you know where I found it?”

Leonard Campbell shook his head, inviting her to explain.

“It was found in the home of a female driver who just had a car accident.” Henry Harris took the paper back, propped it up, and showed it to Leonard Campbell. “Our investigation found that this woman had an affair, or at least an emotional affair, years ago. This is a love letter her lover wrote to her by hand. All other evidence was burned, and only this card was accidentally kept by her daughter.”

“Oh?” Even when Leonard Campbell frowned, he still appeared gentle, making it impossible to discern anger or any other emotion from his face—only pure confusion.

“I don’t quite understand your point. The logic here seems a bit odd? Why did the female driver have the accident?”

Henry Harris replied, “It was an accident.”

“If it was an accident, why investigate her private life from years ago?” Leonard Campbell gave a helpless smile. “And now I’m involved—I guess you have some rather unusual theories.”

Henry Harris stared at him intently, but Leonard Campbell didn’t feel offended and met her gaze openly.

Henry Harris said, “Didn’t you write this?”

“I did,” Leonard Campbell admitted readily, “but I never sent anything like this to anyone, nor have I ever had an improper relationship with any woman. Let me explain: this poem was actually written for my ex-wife. How could I use it to confess to another woman? Besides, judging from the content, it seems to be a later revision. That was over ten years ago…”

He paused, unable to recall clearly, then lowered his head and chuckled, “I was already in my sixties back then—how could I still have the interests of a young man?”

This was exactly what puzzled Henry Harris the most.

Over ten years ago, Sean Hall was only in her thirties. Admittedly, Leonard Campbell was quite charming, but would Sean Hall really fall in love with a man a whole generation older than herself?

The hardest part of this case was that no one knew who was innocent and who wasn’t—who was ultimately the perpetrator, and who was being used.

Suppressing her emotions, Henry Harris politely asked, “Then, who could have gotten hold of your handwritten note?”

Leonard Campbell replied regretfully, “I imagine quite a few people.”

The muscles around Henry Harris’s eyes twitched, and she felt a chill inside. “You mean?”

“When you’re young, you have all sorts of interests, and it was also work-related. I liked getting to know all kinds of people, so I joined quite a few interest groups.” Leonard Campbell pointed to the item in her hand. “This is one example.”

He continued, “Sometimes I’d be responsible for teaching newcomers. Also, when lecturing my students, to lighten the mood, I wrote a lot of cards like this. For convenience, I wrote these same poems most often. After class, these things were usually handled by my assistant or students—I never asked where they ended up.”

“Why wasn’t it signed?”

“It wasn’t meant to be given to anyone,” Leonard Campbell said with a laugh. “Would Captain Harris write her name on her own scratch paper?”

In such a short time, even Henry Harris began to doubt herself.

The man before her was flawless, as if none of this had anything to do with him. Yet, the more this was the case, the less Henry Harris dared to rule him out as a suspect.

He kept a low profile, never revealing anything, shrouded in an air of mystery.

“Is it just about this poem?” Leonard Campbell asked with concern when she fell silent. “Is it important?”

Henry Harris put the paper back and took out another bag, from which she produced two photos and placed them on the table.

The photos were taken from the side: an elderly man with gray hair stood at a street corner, waiting for the light to change. Several other pedestrians were nearby. The street was in a bustling area, always crowded with people.

Leonard Campbell recognized himself and nodded in realization. “That is me. I was just wearing those clothes a couple of days ago… So the car accident you mentioned was that one. The driver really was in an accident, right? What are you investigating?”

Henry Harris said, “Yes, what a coincidence. You just happened to be at the scene. The driver ran the red light because she was looking in your direction.”

Leonard Campbell raised his eyebrows in surprise, his expression growing serious. “What’s her name?”

“Sean Hall.”

“Hmm…” Leonard Campbell pressed his forehead, thinking hard, and sighed, “I really have no impression, I don’t know her. Maybe she was one of my students? I truly regret this.”

Henry Harris couldn’t detect anything unusual about him.

All the clues clearly pointed to this man, yet he easily deflected them all, like a hidden iceberg impossible to see through.

Henry Harris pressed a bit harder in her tone: “Why were you passing by there that morning?”

Leonard Campbell answered lightly, “Shopping.”

Henry Harris’s rising tone betrayed her dissatisfaction: “Shopping?”

“Am I not allowed to be there?” Leonard Campbell said helplessly. “Even if I was there, I can’t guarantee the driver would have an accident just because she saw me, right? Besides, why would I do such a thing? I think you should reconsider this case. I don’t know what you want me to explain.”

Henry Harris realized her attitude was too aggressive and lowered her head to tidy up the things on the table.

Leonard Campbell, on the contrary, took the initiative to explain, “That morning, I went shopping with my son because my ex-wife’s birthday was coming up, and we wanted to pick out a gift… My ex-wife has been bedridden for years due to poor health. The doctor said she might not have much time left, so my son wanted her to be a little happier in her final days and asked me to go out with him. Before this, I actually didn’t have much contact with my ex-wife.”

Is that so? Henry Harris thought to herself.

Leonard Campbell had said all he could, and Henry Harris no longer knew what to ask.