Chapter 11

Looking back, it was Leonard, the current Deputy Chief Prosecutor and my old boss.

We hadn't seen each other in three years. He looked rough, with bags under his eyes and skin like old tree bark. A few years ago, he had just a few gray hairs at his temples, but now they were completely gray.

If I remember right, he was only fifty.

Time was a killer for women and a curse for men. Women aged slowly, but men seemed to age all at once. After forty, time became a vengeful ghost, tearing at them, eager to strip them to the bone. This was the price of ambition and power; now time wanted its payback, with interest.

I felt a bit sorry for him and forgot our past issues for a moment. "Leonard," I called out.

Leonard nodded, still stern, and slowly walked down the steps. When he looked at me, there was a flicker of the old him in his eyes. He hesitated, his dry lips moved like he wanted to say something, but it turned into a sigh, "Nancy, my condolences."

Seeing his expression, my heart sank. After the long trial and intense focus, I was exhausted, and the sadness started to creep back in.

Back then, during the office dispute, I hated the bureaucracy, the ruthlessness of my colleagues, and especially Leonard's actions. Three years ago, I told him in his office that he had betrayed the prosecutor's oath and turned into a power-hungry politician.

Alan supported my decision but sighed, saying Leonard had his struggles.

Leonard had mentored me. I remembered his proud look when I was commended by the state prosecutor's office, and his anger and disappointment when I left.

This world was tough on idealists. With Alan gone and Leonard aging, I felt a deep sadness, realizing everyone just wanted to get by.

For a moment, we both fell silent.

"Is there a problem with the witnesses?" Leonard got straight to the point.

"Yeah, something feels off, but I can't put my finger on it. I want to investigate. I don't just want the killer caught; I want to know why Alan was killed. Besides, Laura might not be..."

"That you can still be like this after what happened to Alan shows I wasn't wrong about you." Leonard sighed, pulled out a stack of photocopies from his bag, and handed them over. "Just this once!"

I was stunned. The victim's family wasn't supposed to see the case files without going through the proper channels. What Leonard did was definitely illegal, which was unlike him.

"Scott is slick, but he's top-notch nationwide. What he said in court makes sense. This case needs quick, accurate, and ruthless handling, but the state court is pushing too hard. I was only notified this morning to be the prosecutor." Leonard paused, seemed to think of something, but held back, in his usual mature and steady way. Then he said in a deep voice, "Don't overthink it. If you want to investigate, go ahead, but let me be clear: you can't act in the name of the prosecutor's office, and don't be impulsive. You've got guts!"

My eyes reddened, and just as I was about to speak, Leonard waved his hand, walked down the steps, stopped after a few steps, and said slowly without looking back, "If you have any difficulties, let me know. And if you want to come back... we'll talk about it later."

With that, he left.

I got back to the car and started going through the case file. Most of the stuff had already come up in court, but there were four big red flags.

First, the autopsy report was super vague, just a few sentences.

Second, the club's surveillance footage had issues recently, and the video was incomplete.

Third, the list of injured people was missing some names. They could be folks who were actually there.

Fourth, there was no list of guests on the fourth floor of the hotel that day, which should be managed by the Entertainment Club's manager.

This case file was a mess, full of holes, and missing key info. While the speed of handling the case had been commendable, the efficiency was regrettably poor, unlike the thoroughness seen in previous "special cases."

It looked like someone wanted to wrap this up fast.

From Leonard's expression earlier, he probably noticed this too. Investigating the higher-ups was out of my league for now, so I'd need to ask him later.

I had to start from the bottom. It seemed like these three witnesses had issues, and there was also the manager who hadn't shown up.

I needed to figure out if Alan and Laura's meeting was planned or just a coincidence, and if the other three had really not been in touch recently.

I had to dig into both sides at the same time.

Just then, my phone rang. It was my boss.

He asked, "Nancy, Frank's secretary just contacted me. It's about an investment project. We need to meet Frank tomorrow at noon. You in?"

I replied, "Yeah, what time?"

He said, "11 o'clock, VIP Table 3 at Darben Coffee. I've made the reservation."

"Got it," I said.

When I talked to Frank's secretary yesterday, she said he was out of town for a meeting. How did he get back so fast?

I decided to check out Alan's three friends first.

The next day at 10:30, I headed out.

There was some traffic, so I texted my boss that I might be a bit late.

When I got to the coffee shop, I was already about 10 minutes late. From a distance, I saw my boss stand up and wave at me, so I hurried over.

A man was sitting across from my boss, must be Frank. The info I found said he was a manager at a foreign company. I expected him to be like the court witness Tom, in a branded suit and gold-rimmed glasses, looking all successful.

But Frank was in sportswear, looking pretty plain. When he saw me, he slowly stood up, looking sad and worn out.

"Nancy, Alan..." Frank said, his voice trembling, almost sobbing. I noticed he didn't look well, his face pale and sickly.

I replied, "Yeah, he passed away the night before last."

Frank covered his mouth, one hand shaking as he held onto the chair, sobbing softly. In his thirties, in his prime, he looked like an old man about to collapse.

Seeing him so heartbroken made me feel even worse. Even though we hadn't seen each other in ten years, I felt a bit closer to him and quickly went over to help him sit down.

As I turned, I glanced at my boss, casting an inquiring look to ask if he had conveyed the news of Alan's murder. My boss shook his head slightly, indicating he hadn't.

Currently, the authorities had not disclosed any information about the victim of this case, and even the entertainment media had not reported on it.

So how did Frank know?