Chapter 3: Devoted Wholeheartedly, Plan Backfires

It matched the logo on his backpack from yesterday.

Yvonne Finley stopped at the gate, her phone continually vibrating.

—Warrior Tucker: Your flight is booked, a flight at five and a half this afternoon, come back immediately.

—Warrior Tucker: Looks like I need to buy you a huge insurance policy, given your fearless, risk-taking nature. Who knows, one day I might just become the beneficiary.

— Warrior Tucker: An artist, worth more dead than alive. "Smile"

Yvonne massaged her stiff hand, scrolling through the messages on the screen, and chuckled leisurely.

Warrior Tucker, a popular actress known for her poisonous tongue and beautiful looks.

A close friend since their teens with a deep bond.

News of Yvonne's tragedy and missing status had probably made Tucker eager to kill her in revenge.

Yvonne lowered her head in response.

[I'm planning to attend your banquet decades from now, don't curse me.]

Having replied,

a man approached her, a member of the Assault Rescue Team.

Noticing Yvonne gazing out at the entrance, he approached and asked, "Are you looking for something?"

Yvonne Finley lifted her head under the foggy sky, glanced at the number on the man's chest - number 37.

She put away her cellphone, scanning towards the building, "I would like to ask, is number 22 here?"

He seemed surprised, he took a good look at her.

Realizing: "You're the one who got trapped in the rainforest yesterday? Yvonne Finley?"

Yvonne sighed at her widespread notoriety, she pursed her lips: "…Yes, I would like to see number 22."

The man shrugged, somewhat regretfully: "I'm afraid that's impossible, he left at dawn."

He added, "Resigned."

Implying,

That the chance of meeting again had vanished.

Yvonne was momentarily dazed by the news.

The overcoat in her hand felt heavier.

There was a sense of inexplicable disappointment.

But the thought didn't linger long, she gave a polite nod: "Alright, then I won't disturb you."

She had always been nonchalant.

The bond between people is a fate set by heaven.

If they couldn't meet now, they will remain strangers in the future.

The personal details became irrelevant.

As for that perplexing pledge of dedication...

What a mess.

The first confession of love ending in such a pitiful state.

The only thought was—

Fortunately, there was no clear rejection.

It was a bit embarrassing, but also a bit pleased.

After all, those were her delirious ramblings, completely unrelated to the fully conscious Yvonne Finley.

…

The plane landed, gliding for a few minutes in the cold and silent night before arriving at the destination, Chelsea.

Winter was nearing, the cold was biting.

Just exited the airport VIP channel.

Yvonne Finley received a call from her assistant, Jane.

This was her seventh call.

Yvonne wrapped up her collar against the cold wind and answered, "Why are you calling so many times? What's the matter?"

Jane, panicking and out of temper, "Sister Yvonne, are you still at the airport?"

Yvonne Finley looked down at her feet in oversized slippers, awkwardly adjusting her stance: "Just got out, going to the gallery in a bit, is there an emergency?"

Jane gasped, "Sister Yvonne, actually, there were some police officers who came to the gallery today. They say you're implicated in a case—"

"Yvonne Finley."

In the hustle and bustle of the crowd, a few people with strong purpose came in front of her, interrupting Jane's voice on the other end of the line. Some of them were in plain clothes, some in uniforms, they would immediately attract attention in the crowd.

The lead person showed his credentials to Yvonne Finley.

"We are from the Eastern District Criminal Police Brigade, my name is Arthur Hudson. There was a murder near the Luwail Building at around seven tonight, which you are somewhat implicated in, and we need your cooperation for the investigation."

Yvonne Finley glanced at the credentials, Jane's voice grew more frantic from the earpiece, she nodded calmly, fully aware that asking questions wouldn't help, "Alright."

The police car was parked outside the corridor.

Regardless of whether Yvonne understood the reason or not, she had to go along.

As for the murder case—

She was in Sioux these past few days, there was no reason to panic.

*

*

A free ride in a police car had saved the taxi fare, returning to the main city area.

Eastern District Criminal Police Brigade.

The adjacent department was just around the corner.

Not far apart.

Yvonne Finley was taken to the interrogation room for questioning.

Arthur Hudson, the captain of the Criminal Police Brigade, was in his early forties and had a calm demeanor, "Don't be nervous, we just want to ask a few questions."

He looked at Yvonne who had injured her foot. Her body had not fully recovered, her face slightly pale, she looked delicate and weak.

Her beautiful eyes were soft and appealing.

It evoked an irresistible urge to speak in hushed and gentle tones when in conversation with her.

"Where have you been these past few days?"

"Sioux," replied Yvonne Finley, without grovelling or arrogance, "A county town in the snow zone."

"How long have you been there?"

"About a week."

"Do you know a man named Matthew Brown?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar."

"Try to recall anything related to this person."

A crease formed in Yvonne's forehead, her brain whirring at high speed, after about a minute...

She looked enlightened, "I do know him. When I was in Lynch, he bought one of my paintings. We met once, that was five months ago. What happened to him?"

Arthur Hudson stared at her, pondering, "He's the victim who was killed and dismembered near Luwail Building. His left arm was removed and we still haven't found the severed limb—"

Yvonne subconsciously visualized the scenario.

Her lips pursed, it seemed as if they were going to show her photographs of the mutilated corpse if possible.

Arthur Hudson knew that for a young girl, such a scene would be excessively brutal so he continued, "The reason we brought you here..."

"Was because the only suspicious item left at the scene was a photograph. We examined your public works and the printed photograph contained one of the paintings from your exhibition last year." Arthur Hudson's colleague handed over a photo sealed in a transparent evidence bag.

Indeed, the painting in the photograph was hers.

It was the same painting that Matthew Brown had purchased five months ago.

On the back of the photo, there was a line.

Uneven and irregular handwriting: Scum, you deserved to die.

Yvonne pondered for a long time before despairingly saying, "I don't know anything about this nor do I know about Matthew Brown's interpersonal relationships. I'm really sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to provide any assistance."

Learning that someone she had once known, and had a connection with, had been brutally murdered and dismembered made it hard to remain in a state of calm.

Arthur Hudson knew this.

Although Yvonne was implicated due to the painting in the photo, she had in actuality very little to do with the case. She was nothing more than a potential clue in the search for the killer.

Since she was completely unaware...

There was no reason to detain her.

After a routine questioning session, they let her leave.

From landing at the airport to being rigorously interrogated at the Criminal Police Brigade, more than one hour had passed, now past ten at night.

Jane had been waiting outside the Criminal Police Brigade in her car throughout this time.