The food delivery guy, under the scorching gaze of a group of public servants, delivered the highest level of service of his life. He carefully approached, arranged the dishes, and then, just like a palace eunuch, bowed once, bowed twice, and retreated out.

Julian Grant couldn't bear to watch and gave him a positive review.

Not long after, the recently released Harry Forrest also came over and sat down at their table.

The three of them gathered around the large conference table, closed the door, and quietly had dinner inside.

Netizens were envious. The programmer, not wanting to waste his own effort, had made the food look extremely exquisite. The camera kept sweeping over the plates, and the rising steam seemed to hook the souls of all the office workers still at work.

“I vaguely remember that Q-ge once criticized this kind of behavior—eating in the instance. Huh? Sizing Up”

“What makes a man walk the path of double standards? Is it beauty? Money? Love? None of the above. It’s shamelessness.”

“Let me see what dishes there are... Spicy crayfish, charcoal-grilled steak, isn’t that steamed East Star grouper a bit much!!”

“I think I know something now. If you simp long enough, you get everything. Lost in Thought”

·

The three gathered smoothly, showing no sense of urgency about the instance. The relaxed atmosphere was such that they could even open a bottle of wine to liven things up.

Harry Forrest took a few bites and asked, “Can I take a look at the files?”

The Vault casually handed over the notebook nearby.

Harry Forrest propped the notebook up with both hands, reading in the standard posture of a primary school student, carefully scanning through the contents, then said, “Something’s missing.”

The Vault put down his chopsticks and asked, “What’s missing?”

“The notebook and the voice recorder.” Harry Forrest's gaze stopped at the record of the victim’s belongings, pointing at it to indicate, “Laura Lowell had a professional habit—no matter where she went, she always carried a voice recorder and a small black notebook about palm-sized. The night I saw her, she was listening to something on the recorder. It looked a lot like an ordinary pen. Did you check everything carefully?”

The Vault took the notebook back, double-checked the contents, a dark glint flashing in his half-closed eyes, but his voice remained calm.

“What does the voice recorder look like?”

Harry Forrest couldn’t quite remember, since it had been so long.

“Laura Lowell always used a black voice recorder, right? But I accidentally broke it, so I bought her a new one. I got a pink one, with a clip on the side, and a little green leaf on top that wobbled like a spring. It didn’t look like a voice recorder at all...”

The Vault quickly flipped through the pages, pulled out a photo, and slid it across the table. It showed all the items found on Laura Lowell.

Harry Forrest glanced at it and said with certainty, “It’s not there.”

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Updating, updating! I want to finish quickly too, so everyone please be patient~

Extra: Harry Forrest 05

The three sat in silence, each lost in thought, saying nothing.

The fact that the other party took the voice recorder meant it was a key piece of evidence. But so much time had passed since the crime, the killer had plenty of chances to dispose of the evidence—they might not be able to find it.

Moreover, if the recorder had already disappeared in reality, even if they searched every inch, they would never be able to recover it.

The three of them quickly tidied up the meal boxes on the table, took their files, and returned to the office area.

Half an hour later, the officer who had gone out to pull surveillance footage returned.

The young man sat down at his desk, panting, tossed the printed photos onto the table, and kept tugging at his collar, his breath unsteady, giving The Vault a big thumbs up.

“Amazing, Captain, your guess was spot on!”

The Vault unwrapped the paper on the outside and buried her head in the photos. The captured images weren’t very clear, only showing a blurry half of a man’s face.

The young man leaned over to explain: “This was caught by the bank’s entrance camera. After Laura Lowell withdrew money and left, a minute or two later, a man in a white hoodie and dark blue loose pants followed her out. He kept his head down, walked quickly, and acted suspiciously. I thought he was very suspicious, so I checked other cameras and finally got a clear shot of his face.”

“Confirmed!” The young man jabbed at the photo with his finger, eyes shining with excitement. “He’s one of Laura Lowell’s colleagues, named Victor West, and he’s worked with Laura Lowell for over a year. According to traffic camera footage, after Laura Lowell left the company, he followed her the whole way. A camera at an intersection 200 meters from HY Community also caught him. He appeared around 9 p.m. and left around 10, so he had plenty of time to commit the crime. The biggest problem now is—”

There’s no evidence.

Surveillance can only serve as indirect evidence. No matter how convincing their reasoning, they couldn’t put Victor West on trial.

The Vault stared at the photo for a long time, then put it down thoughtfully and nodded.

The young man’s excitement faded in her long silence. Turning his head, he finally noticed Harry Forrest.

“Hey, little brother, why are you still here? Hurry back to class, students shouldn’t neglect their studies.”

Harry Forrest, with his young face, felt a mix of emotions at these words. He rolled his eyes at the young man, then silently turned his back.

The young man felt silently mocked and couldn’t help but touch his own face.

No big deal, thick skin means nothing happened.

Right then, The Vault’s phone on the table started vibrating. The officers sent out earlier were efficient, and results were coming in one after another.

The Vault put the call on speaker, and a rough male voice came through the speaker.

“Captain, I double-checked the details with the witness. The citizen living in HY Community said he saw a figure running out from the direction of the crime scene, dressed very much like Nancy Dawson. But he actually left out one detail because he was worried he’d seen it wrong. He said the killer might have been wearing glasses, because he saw a glint off a lens.”

Before the caller finished, the young man waiting nearby immediately shouted, “Victor West wears glasses! He’s the most suspicious one right now!”

The person on the other end continued, “If that’s the case, then the testimonies of Michael Wood and Thomas Daniels are a bit odd. We’re about to go see them now.”

“Bring Nancy Dawson along too.” The Vault picked up the phone and exchanged a glance with Harry Forrest. “Tell them we now have clear evidence that Nancy Dawson took a different route—let’s see how they react.”

The man on the phone chuckled deeply: “Alright, I’ll come pick them up now.”

After hanging up, The Vault casually picked up the black backpack on the floor and handed it to Harry Forrest, saying, “Put on your little backpack and wait at the door for uncle to pick you up.”

Harry Forrest muttered under his breath, slinging the strap over his arm.

The Vault instructed, “Put it on properly. Act a bit more innocent and pitiful later.”

Harry Forrest was a bit reluctant, but still put the backpack on properly.

The young police officer was very satisfied—now he really looked like a high school student.

The Vault glanced at the young man who was nodding enthusiastically at the drama. The latter rolled up his sleeves, eager to go: “Should we summon Victor West right away?”

The Vault pressed his hand down, signaling to wait a moment: “Let’s also apply for a search warrant and see if we can find a pink voice recorder at his house.”

“Got it.”

The team split up—some went to Laura Lowell’s company to search her work records, some were doing background checks on the five witnesses, and others went to Victor West’s house for a thorough search. Only Julian Grant was left with nothing to do.

Comrade Old He happily ran to the entrance to buy two cups of milk tea and a bag of fruit. Passing through the lobby, he collected a batch of jealous, sour looks.

But the current Julian Grant was no longer the Q-ge of the past. A mature man, after a long period of effortless wins, either learns to stay silent or learns to enjoy it. Now, he liked this feeling of unspoken privilege.

Isn’t it nice to be pampered?

By the time Victor West arrived, the interrogation room had almost been turned into a tea party by Julian Grant. The table in front was covered with fruit, and the two of them each had a cup of milk tea, sitting there leisurely waiting for him to come in.

Victor West couldn’t help but pause, looking at the two of them with hesitation. In that brief moment of observation, he keenly sensed their unwavering determination for an “all-night battle to the death.”

The officer who brought him in saw him stop, gave him a push, and signaled for him to sit across from them.

Victor West’s face was grave as he dragged himself forward, each step feeling unusually heavy.

He remembered what the officer had told him on the way—that Nancy Dawson had already been safely released. He was now even more certain that the police had made a major discovery. After days of worry and fear, the moment had finally come. Victor West slumped into the chair, clutching the edge of the table.

His unfocused eyes wandered aimlessly in the air, as if he had finally made up his mind. His whole demeanor sank, closing himself off completely.