Crimes Without Evidence Chapter 06
“This is what happened last night.”
In the interrogation room, I wrapped myself in a coat and spoke to the two police officers questioning me.
After hearing my words, the stern-faced older officer, around fifty years old, glared at me with narrowed eyes and suddenly slammed his hand on the table!
“Emily, don’t you dare spin tales here. Tell us the truth, how did you and your husband Holt murder these three people?”
My expression remained unchanged, my eyes coldly fixed on him.
“I’m not making up stories. Everything I’ve said is true.”
“Alright then, let me ask you this: do you know this person?”
He picked up a photograph and placed it in front of me.
I glanced up, my pupils suddenly constricting, my whole body trembling as I clenched my fists tightly.
The image of a lovely girl flashed before my eyes.
“Yes, I know her. She’s my sister,
Delia.”
Indeed, with golden hair and an adorable face, it was my sixteen-year-old sister.
Except now she was bound tightly to a bed, dozens of syringes stuck into her body. Blood had stained her golden hair red, her once lively eyes now lifeless, her sweet face twisted into a grimace.
My mind flashed back to how she used to cling to my arm, saying “Big sister, I love you.”
How happy and adorable she was then. I feel as if a knife has carved into my heart, but my eyes remain dry.
The old detective observes my pained expression, a flicker of sympathy crossing his eyes, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Swiftly, he resumes his stern demeanor.
“You’re saying that after your husband, Holt, entered the room, you lost consciousness again, correct?”
I nod.
“And you have no knowledge of what transpired afterward?”
I shake my head.
He slams his hand on the table once more.
“The knife wounds on Quint’s body clearly indicate two assailants. Are
you claiming you didn’t lay a hand on Quint?”
“It’s possible someone else came in after I passed out.”
He approaches me, gripping the sides of the restraint chair, his bull-like eyes boring into mine.
“You wanted revenge for your sister, so you and your husband Holt attacked Quint together, didn’t you?”
I lift my head, feigning a look of bewilderment.
“What does torturing him have to do with my sister’s death?”
“Drop the act. You know full well that Quint is the West Side Killer who murdered your sister.”
A sneer plays at the corner of my mouth.
“Tell me, Officer Lincoln, where’s your evidence?”
The old detective is momentarily struck speechless. “You say it was Holt and I who killed Quint together, so please provide the evidence.”
The old detective’s expression turned sour as he reluctantly sat down in his chair.
“Are you saying your husband Holt did all of this by himself?”
I nodded.
“Then did you know that Holt had already been diagnosed with cancer?”
I hesitated for a moment, my eyes growing a bit moist.
“Yes, I knew.”
He was about to say something else when suddenly there was a
knock at the door.
The old detective stood up and walked out. The officer outside
whispered something to him, and his face grew even more grim.
He returned to the interrogation room and let out a sigh.
“Holt is dead.”
The corner of my mouth twitched slightly, but my face remained expressionless.
“It was suicide,” he added.
I nodded.
“He killed someone. He deserved to die.”
A strange look flashed in the old detective’s eyes, as if he couldn’t quite figure me out.
“Why did your husband kill Lavender and Carter?”
I smiled.
“You’d have to ask him that. How would I know?”
I could tell that this question puzzled the old detective as well. “Emily, don’t think we can’t touch you. The law is a vast net that catches all; we’ll find evidence sooner or later. If you confess now, you might still have a chance.”
I let out a cold laugh.
“Catches all, you say?”
“Officer Lincoln, I’ll say it again.
You claim I killed someone? Show me the proof.”
I enunciated each word slowly.
Officer Lincoln sighed.
Both crime scenes were littered with evidence of my presence, along with numerous biological tracés.
But my alibi was airtight.
The hallway cameras matched my testimony perfectly.
As for witnesses…
Lavender and Carter were dead.
Quint had his eyes gouged out, tongue cut off, eardrums pierced, and body slashed thousands of times.
Though he barely survived, he was just a breath away from death, unable to provide any evidence.
And Holt took all the blame, but he committed suicide.
In other words, apart from myself, there were no witnesses left. Silence fell over the interrogation room.
I lowered my head, my mind feeling like it was about to explode.
After a long pause, the old cop sighed. “Emily, I don’t expect you to account for anything, but I just want to ask why you killed Lavender and Carter.”
I raised my head to look at him, revealing a painful smile.
“Officer Lincoln, the case has come to this point, the culprit has been identified, and the evidence is there. Why do you need to obsess over the truth?”
He stared at me without saying a word.
“I’m sorry, officer, I don’t know anything, but if you’re interested, I can tell you a story.”
“A story about revenge…”
