Revenge After Death

Chapter 145

Chapter 145

“He’s not dead yet…” Steven shoved away the people around him and went to feel the man’s pulse. “He’s not going to live…”

Zion called an ambulance. Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

Michael quickly took several steps back, clearly never having seen such a bloody sight. before. Meanwhile, everyone else had run outside the house to heave their stomach contents out. They had pretty much ruined the crime scene.

“The murderer was able to calculate how long it’d take for this victim to die… “Steven said in a panicked tone as he knelt on the floor. “He knew what time we’d arrive and what time we’d find this victim. He wanted us to watch him dic…

Just like how the murderer had done to Stephanie.

I walked forward, feeling numb as I looked at the body. “It’s the orphanage director’s husband.”

I had seen this man before in Steven’s photos.

“If the murderer was able to shove such a heavyset man into the shoe cupboard, then he must definitely be a strong adult,” Zion said sullenly.

That was the only way the murderer could’ve moved a body around and shoved a man on the verge of death into this small cupboard.

“Maybe… the victim climbed in there himself.” Steven pointed at the footsteps which Michael and the other movers had disturbed on the ground. “There was only one set of

footprints.”

“There’s something else that’s scary too. The murderer didn’t leave behind fingerprints, hair, or any clues. Even camera footage is useless because we can’t identify the murderer from his face.”

The person I saw the other day at home had an extremely scarred face from burn injuries. and looked incredibly scary.

I couldn’t tell what he originally looked like.

“The murderer is too intelligent,” Zion said. The murderer had been taking the police as

fools.

“Are you out of your mind?” 1 turned to Michael. “Why did you come here at this late hour just to move some furniture?”

Michael looked at me, displeased. “These are all my wife’s belongings.”

“Bullshit.” I went up and slapped him in the face. “Can you be more considerate for once?

Michael glared at me warningly. “I told you, this house is in my name, so you guys are the ones who are trespassing!”

“Why did you bring movers here at this time of the night, Michael Ford? If you don’t give a reasonable explanation, I have reason to suspect you intentionally ruined a crime scene! “Zion warned.

“I met a fortune teller who told me… that Stephie died a terrible death and her soul is currently wandering unbound. The fortune teller told me to burn her furniture at midnight tonight,” Michael grumbled, looking away.

Wait, why would someone as self–centered as Michael who never believed in the metaphysical suddenly believe in this sort of thing?

I cast a suspicious look at him. “Something’s wrong with that fortune teller.”

It was too big of a coincidence.

“Where did you meet this fortune teller?” Zion asked.

“At the cemetery.” Michael had gone to Stephanie’s grave again today.

Now, I suspected even more that Michael had negatively affected my journey to the afterlife. He was tormenting me even after my death.

“Officer Landon!” The other police officers and backup had arrived.

But it was too late. The victim had already died, just like Steven said. There was no saving him even after Steven tried to stop his bleeding. Too much blood had been lost.

The medics took Rachel away, who had passed out from hunger and shock. I heaved a sigh of relief when they told me her life was no longer at risk.

“Why was he kneeling in the shoe cupboard?” I didn’t understand what the murderer was trying to tell us.

Steven murmured, “Redemption. He’s trying to redeem himself.”

Chantry 14

Zion looked at Steven and then at me. “Steven has always refused to cooperate with the investigation in the past. Why is he so active today?”

Steven had always been opposed to helping with the investigation even when the police questioned him. He would never so much as utter a word.

But Steven was clearly cooperating right now.

I realized this difference as well. Steven was particularly cooperative today.

Steven stared at the victim, mumbling, “Anesthesia… overdose. Hallucinations, poor wound clotting… One will slowly die without feeling any pain.”