At two in the morning, the plane from San Francisco to Landon takes off.
Sylvan Cheney's brow furrows tightly, his jaw strained, a chilling coldness covers his refined face.
He holds an envelope in his slender fingers.
The envelope has been opened, and it's filled with freshly developed photographs.
A lot of them.
As Sylvan flips through them one by one, his face ashes, casting a gloomy atmosphere.
It is as foreboding as the sky before a storm: dark, dreary.
Charles Mcintosh stands by, silent, afraid to disrupt him.
The protagonists of the photos are none other than Jasmine Yale and Joe Heath.
The two of them are drinking and singing in a private room; Joe lighting fireworks for Jasmine; Joe sending Jasmine home.
In the photographs, the two of them are extremely intimate.
Especially the way Jasmine looks at Joe, her eyes are tender with affection and idolization.
A thick stack of photos, approximately twenty or so pieces.
Sylvan's eyes are bloodshot.
