In the midst of a tense gathering, Dominic articulated a thought that sparked a wave of agreement among his peers. “What if there’s another angle to this? Perhaps someone with insider knowledge of the case intentionally provoked the police as a form of retaliation!”
His words hung in the air, echoing in the minds of those listening. Yet, a curious police officer interjected, “But there are no reports of missing officers or their families. How could that be?”
A murmur of contemplation swept through the room. “If someone has truly been missing for so long, why hasn’t anyone brought it to our attention?”
Timothy, his gaze fixed on the haunting photo of the deceased, spoke with a sense of urgency. “The DNA from the body has been rushed for identification, but so far, there’s no match.”
Dominic, rubbing his brow in thought, asserted, “Regardless of the circumstances, our first step must be to pinpoint the origin of the body. Once we can confirm who the deceased is, we’ll be in a much better position to track down the murderer.”
He continued, “In this suitcase, we’ve only found a torso. It’s possible that the limbs were concealed due to identifying marks, deliberately hidden by the murderer to stall the identification process.”
“Or perhaps,” he mused further, “the suitcase, being only 24 inches, simply couldn’t contain an entire adult body, leading to the remains being scattered across two locations. If that’s the case, then the second dumping site can’t be too far from the first.”
Timothy’s brow furrowed, his mind racing as he absorbed this information. A sudden wave of nostalgia washed over me as I instinctively traced the scar on my left hand.
Last year, as I endeavored to whip up a dish he adored, I had an unfortunate mishap with a pot of boiling oil, leaving a painful reminder on my skin. He had felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for my injury, tending to my wound daily with care and attention.
I found myself wondering if he would recognize me just by that scar alone.
Another voice broke the tension, posing a chilling question. “Given the brutal nature of the crime, does it imply a deep-seated hatred towards the victim? Perhaps the perpetrator views her as a representation of betrayal, or maybe he’s been wronged by women like her in the past. Otherwise, why would he choose such a cruel form of vengeance?”
At that moment, Timothy’s expression shifted. His eyebrows twitched as a flicker of realization crossed his face, quickly morphing into a look of disgust.
Could it be that my presence triggered such a reaction in him? In his eyes, I might have been nothing more than a reflection of his disdain.
Dominic, sensing the shift, glanced at Timothy and quietly inquired, “Did Mia respond to your message?”
FLASHBACK
That night unfolded like any other; Mia found herself in the master bedroom while Timothy shared his space with another woman. Their marriage had stretched over six months, yet they remained strangers in the same house.
The next morning, Mia received an authoritative call from her mother-in-law, Sharon Wilson. “Mia, ensure that one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor is prepared for a visitor. Someone will be staying over for a few days, and I expect you to welcome her warmly.”
Before Mia could inquire about the identity of this guest, Sharon had already ended the call. A faint smile graced Mia’s lips, accustomed as she was to Sharon’s dismissive tone, which implied that any further conversation would only tarnish the Barrett family’s reputation.
Descending the stairs, Mia discovered that Timothy had already left for work.
Later that afternoon, a striking young woman adorned from head to toe in designer attire stepped into the living room. Surprise flickered in Mia’s eyes. Could this be the guest Sharon had mentioned? A beautiful young woman, no less?
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