The nail on my left little finger had been black since I was a child. It had been a natural condition since I was born.
However, the murderer painted my severed palms with red nail polish, which just covered up my black nails.
The assistant leaned over and saw that Stacey didn't say anything. She asked curiously.
"Miss Tucker, are there any new discoveries?"
Stacey came back to her senses from her shock. She put down the broken palm and shook her head.
"Not yet. Based on my previous experience in handling cases, the murderer usually paints the nails of the deceased or dresses the deceased up as a doll, mostly to satisfy his inner perverted desires."
What?
I sighed heavily.
Really.
Stacey didn't care about me at all.
She always ignored me.
The next day, Stacey discussed with the team members for a whole morning and decided to go to the crime scene for another inspection.
She looked around the abandoned factory, and suddenly walked to a corner and picked up a bracelet that had fallen on the ground.
The assistant walked to Stacey's side and asked curiously.
"Miss Tucker, is this what the murderer left behind?"
I floated over. I felt nervous again.
This bracelet was something I wore often. And it was also the evidence I desperately left behind before I die!
When the murderer was whipping me madly, I took the opportunity to fall and deliberately threw the bracelet to the ground.
If Stacey had ever paid attention to me, she would have definitely discovered that this was mine.
Stacey stared at the bracelet in a daze. After a moment, she spoke.
"The murderer acted cautiously. I think he left it there on purpose to provoke us."
I was so anxious that I shouted.
"It's wrong. Completely wrong. Honey, think about it again!"
I heard it with my own ears. They were preparing to attack Stacey.
Stacey looked back.
I didn't know if it was providence, she looked at the bracelet and muttered.
"Take it back for identification..."
Back at the police station, Peter called everyone together for a three-hour meeting.
The meeting ended at around eight o'clock.
Peter glanced at the gate in confusion.
"That's weird. Usually, Nicolas would come pick you up whenever you work overtime. Why didn't I see him today?"
Stacey raised her eyebrows and snorted.
"He'd better not come. I don't want to ride in his car."
Seeing that Stacey was full of resentment towards me, Peter sighed and patted her shoulder.