Gavriel was dead.
Her body shook uncontrollably, Estelle's breathing trembled, almost unable to catch her breath. In her extreme helplessness and panic, she instinctively clung tightly to Crescent's hand. He held her, stroking her back gently. "Don't be afraid, I'm here."
Estelle forced herself to calm down in half a minute, struggling to look towards the living room again.
Gavriel lay in a pool of blood, the blood coming from a wound on his wrist. In his right hand he held a blade, which seemed to explain the cause of the wound. He was neatly dressed, his expression calm; there had been no struggle before his death. Not far from him, on a table, there was an envelope containing his suicide note.
"He couldn't have committed suicide," Estelle was certain. "He was murdered, during the more than one hour it took us to get here."
She looked around calmly; the room was very tidy, with no signs of having been ransacked. Only the surveillance camera in the corner had been removed, indicating that the murderer hadn't come for any object but had only one purpose: murder.
Her intuition told her that Gavriel's death had nothing to do with her arrival. If they just wanted to prevent them from meeting, they could have kidnapped him or staged a car accident—there would be no need to kill him. Even if they accidentally killed him, they wouldn't leave the body in the house.
She and the murderer had arrived almost simultaneously, probably just a fortunate coincidence. So the thing he mentioned in their last phone call, the thing he wanted to give her, should still be in this room.
"Find what he wanted to give me, and don't disturb the scene," Estelle ordered. "Once we find it, we'll leave and then call the police."
But it wasn't going to be easy; she didn't even know what the thing was.
The room was neatly organized; at first glance, aside from the suicide note, there were no prominent items. Estelle searched for a while without much direction. Crescent followed behind her, helping to clear away footprints and fingerprints. After a moment, he suddenly looked at her. "There are police sirens."
Estelle froze, stopping her movements. "Where? I didn't hear anything."
"I can hear them," said Crescent. "They're about five kilometers away, heading in our direction."
Estelle got up immediately. "Let's go."
Crescent followed her out of the bedroom, glancing once more at Gavriel as they passed through the living room.
Clearing all traces, they quickly left Gavriel's home and stepped out of the stairwell into the dark night, where a tall man stood quietly. Estelle stopped abruptly, subconsciously grabbing Crescent's arm.
"Don't go home, someone is waiting for you there," Soren said in a low voice, tersely. "Come with me."
Estelle stared at him without speaking, "It's you who killed Gavriel?"
"Killing him would do me no good," said Soren.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
"Because I'm resourceful."
His response didn't match the question. Estelle ignored it, saying coldly, "Why should I believe you? Give me a reason."
"There's no reason, believe me or not as you wish," said Soren. "If you don't believe me, you can try going home."
Estelle pulled Crescent along, turning around only to realize that her car had vanished.
"Oh, I had Charlie drive it away earlier," Soren explained. "The police will arrive soon. If they see your car under Gavriel's building, it will be troublesome. You'll have to walk home."
Estelle glared at him. Soren looked at her with interest. After a moment of staring, he suddenly smiled.
"All right, I'll give you a reason," said Soren. "Didn't you always want to know the truth? Come back with me to Bosen Hotel, and I'll tell you."
Like a bolt of lightning, Estelle stood stunned in place. Soren opened the car door, gesturing for her to get in. "Let's go."
The black business car passed the approaching police car. As the siren neared, Soren lowered the window and smirked at the police officers.
Through the rearview mirror, Estelle saw his smiling eyes. She couldn't say anything, only feeling estranged. "Gavriel is dead, and you don't look upset at all."
"Why should I be?"
"He's Gavriel," said Estelle. "We were college roommates, we went through so much together…"
She kept talking like this. For a moment, Soren felt transported back to that hot summer when he walked out of prison, standing under the green leaves of the poplar tree, looking into her eyes.
But sentimentality and nostalgia are always the most useless weaknesses of humanity.
"Whoever he is," Soren spoke indifferently, just as he had answered her years ago amidst the blinding flashes of reporters' cameras, "if Aiden wants someone dead, they will die."
"…Who are you talking about?"
Estelle's heart skipped a beat. Soren, as if he hadn't heard her, glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "But with me here, you're the exception."
