But it wasn't the Assault Rescue Team.
Yvonne Finley rolled onto her stomach on the bed, aimlessly scrolling on her screen.
A few seconds later.
She directly searched for related entries on the Sioux Rescue Team.
Quite a lot of information came up.
But...
He wasn't there.
It was as if he was a fleeting, beautiful hallucination that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
She got down from her bed, ran to the bathroom, and stared at the running washing machine.
Inside was the assault suit.
Because it was soaked in the rain, it smelled a bit damp and needed to be washed.
The existence of this suit made it clear to her.
She had indeed met that noble yet... shattered-filter young man.
Yet.
His voice had already begun to blur in her memory. At the time, her consciousness was already hazy. In her memory, the man was only a shadow, alongside the beautiful butterfly tattoo on his left shoulder blade.
Perhaps unable to suppress the unnamed melancholy in her heart, Yvonne Finley chuckled to herself.
They would never meet again.
Why did she bring this suit back?
Ding——
The washing machine stopped running.
Coming back to her senses, Yvonne Finley took out the wrung-out clothes and hung them on the ventilating balcony outside the hallway.
Let it serve as a memento of her first, end-without-any-illness 'love affair'.
*
*
The next day.
Yvonne Finley was woken up by the noisy sound of her ringing phone.
Groping for her phone in a daze, she slid the screen to answer: "Who is it?"
"Is this Miss Yvonne Finley?"
"Yes, it is."
"This is the Eastern District Criminal Police Brigade, my name is Arthur Hudson, we met yesterday."
Yvonne Finley became much awake, she sat up, ran her fingers through her hair: "Mr. Hudson, is there something else?"
"Well, the case from yesterday, the missing severed arm was found. It was thrown away in a mountain, discovered by a night-time mountaineer. Along with the severed arm, there was also a painting, that looked identical to the one in yesterday's photos. So Miss Finley, you'll have to come to confirm whether it's your artwork. We've assessed the value of your painting, so it's necessary to conduct a thorough investigation into the motive of the murderer."
Yvonne Finley knitted her eyebrows slightly. Being involved in a murder case over and over again, she rubbed her aching temples, finally saying: "Okay, I'll be right over."
After hanging up the phone.
She was slightly surprised at the progress of the case.
But…
The man who went mountain climbing was really unlucky to have found a severed arm in the middle of the night. Must've given him quite a scare.
——
When Yvonne Finley arrived at the Criminal Police Brigade.
It was only nine in the morning.
Upon entering the hall, she could feel the busy atmosphere. Shadows flitted here and there, some of them obviously having worked an all-nighter.
Seeing her arrival.
Arthur Hudson quickly went up to her: "Miss Finley, please follow me."
Yvonne Finley nodded.
And followed him into another office.
The office was large, divided into several work areas.
The further inside, the fewer people there were.
She noticed that a tall figure was sitting on a chair with a leg cocked up, the length of his leg attracting attention. His upper body was reclining on the back of the chair, and a black baseball cap on his head obscured his face. His graceful neck formed an arc, too alluring to ignore.
So much so, that she almost didn't hear what Mr. Hudson was saying to her.
"Is this yours, Miss Finley?"
Arthur Hudson presented a painting encased in a sealed evidence bag.
Yvonne examined it for a while and confirmed, "It's mine."
This one was a brightly colored new impressionism style painting of a maple forest in the mountains.
She had painted it last year.
Five months ago, it was auctioned off at the Italian Art Exhibition by Matthew Brown.
At that time, he had got it for a price of two hundred and thirty thousand.
Her paintings were sought after overseas, and international media had reported on her works. Anyone familiar with art would understand that this painting was of considerable value.
Yet the murderer had callously discarded it.
The main point was...
"Why would the murderer throw the left arm of the victim into the deep woods along with this painting, but leave the rest of the body near the Luwail Building?" Yvonne pondered with knitted brows.
Arthur Hudson was also troubled by this: "We need detailed investigations. Now that we've confirmed the painting is authentic, we've reduced the likelihood that it was a financial killing by fifty percent. We don't have any leads at the moment."
Yvonne didn't say anything else. The less she was involved in such matters, the better.
Arthur Hudson passed the painting to someone else: "We'll send the painting and the severed limb for fingerprint and DNA analysis. Sorry, Miss Finley, for making you come down here."
Yvonne slightly breathed a sigh of relief: "That's fine. So does that mean the case will soon be solved?""
Arthur Hudson shook his head: "This case is brutal. If it wasn't for money, I fear the motive may not be simple. We're lucky for this gentleman's help. If not for him, we might no longer have any leads once the severed arm is devoured by wild animals in the forest."
He pointed to a bench behind Yvonne.
Yvonne turned around.
The man on the bench slightly moved. He raised his hand to rub his slender neck.
He took off the hat that was obscuring his face.
His black hair was smooth, hanging over his eyebrows and partially shading his eyes. His lips were like dew-covered roses in the morning fog. His face... beautiful, mesmerizing enough to make Yvonne lose herself for a moment.
He stood up, put his hat back on, making his jawline appear even more chiseled.
His voice was husky: "Can I leave now?"
As he spoke, his gaze casually swept over Yvonne. She was dressed in a beige cashmere coat, her vintage wavy hair cascading down to her shoulders. Her features were calm, her eyes clean and warm. Despite her demeanor exuding composure and poise, her character was cold and independent.
Quite different from her previous predicament in Sioux...
But she probably wouldn't recognize him.
Good.
That would spare her embarrassment.
Arthur Hudson nodded: "Yes, thank you for reporting promptly and cooperating. Go home and get a good night's sleep, forget what you saw last night. Don't be scared, don't stress over this."
After all, who wouldn't be frightened upon seeing a severed arm?
While Arthur Hudson was comforting Caleb Baker, another police officer pulled lightly on Hudson's arm, speaking in a low voice, "Do you know how we retrieved the arm?"
Arthur Hudson looked puzzled.
Yvonne also looked over curiously.
The officer glanced at Caleb Baker, who was nonchalantly drinking water from a disposable cup before getting up to leave.
He seemed very much at home, as if he belonged here.
Ask any normal person coming to the Criminal Investigation Department. Who wouldn't be nervous?
The more he thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed: "This young man... after calling the police, he... he carried the severed arm down the mountain on his own, and then waited by himself at the foot of the mountain well into the night."
When their team arrived, they were shocked at the sight.
Arthur Hudson: "....?"
"Since the wild dogs were attracted by the smell and wanted to devour the arm, he said he was afraid there wouldn't be anything left when we arrived. So he used a few condoms as gloves to not leave fingerprints and not damage the evidence. He told us not to worry."
Yvonne: "......."
Arthur Hudson: "......."
Nothing to worry about?
This should've been fucking horrifying, right?!