A Lonely Death

Even though Patrick had locked down the information in time, this was the digital age. Rumors still spread like wildfire.

Mom's frown finally relaxed as she hugged Freya, full of concern. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

I curled up in the corner, dejected. Another lead was gone!

…

Two days after my murder, Patrick received a police report.

Two miles from the market, a motel staff member had found what appeared to be human remains.

The caller was a housekeeper at the motel.

While cleaning a recently vacated room, she noticed something strange. The place had been tidied up too thoroughly as if no one had ever stayed there.

The only exception was the bathroom. The drain was severely clogged, and water had pooled up.

She used a plumbing tool to clear the blockage and pulled out a pile of tiny flesh fragments.

A sick feeling crept over her. She immediately reported it to the motel owner.

But the owner, afraid of hurting business, chose to cover it up.

Not only that, he also destroyed the security footage and guest records from those days.

For three nights in a row, the housekeeper was haunted by nightmares. Unable to bear the psychological torment any longer, she finally called the police.

When Mom received the news, she rushed to the crime scene.

My soul followed, returning to the place where I had been killed.

The moment I stepped into the room, a wave of resistance surged through me. Horrifying memories of my final moments flooded my mind.

The only way to suppress the fear deep within my soul was to stay close behind Mom.

With a single glance, Mom recognized the flesh fragments as human remains. In the bathroom, she found bloodstains on the walls.

It didn't take long for her to conclude that this was the primary crime scene.

The case was becoming clearer. With a cold expression, Mom laid out her analysis.

"The victim is a female, with an estimated age between 20 to 22 years old. The victim's height is around 5'2". There is an old scar on her left ankle. Based on the level of decomposition, the time of death was approximately one week ago. Evidence suggests she was likely tortured before she died."

A young officer listening to the report let out a heavy sigh. "She was so young… How much hatred does it take to do something this brutal?"

Patrick hurried over to Mom. "Your mother just filed a report. Aubree has been missing for a week. You need to check this out."

Mom snapped, her voice laced with fury. "Pat, we're dealing with a major homicide case here. Instead of focusing on solving it, you're playing along with that walking disaster's vanishing act? Where's your professional integrity?"

Patrick frowned. "I'm worried about Aubree. She's only 21."

The young officer, who had just been lamenting how tragic the victim's death was, suddenly spoke up. "21? The victim's estimated age range is 20 to 22… Could it be—"

Before he could finish, Mom shot him a fierce glare. "Are you as obsessed as your superior? I already told you. It's not Aubree. Stop wasting time. Eliminate all false leads. If we can find the victim's head, we'll be able to confirm her identity."

The moment Mom finished speaking, a detective rushed into the room. "Patrick, we've restored the motel's security footage!"

The possibility of identifying the victim reignited everyone's energy. Patrick immediately plugged the USB drive into the computer.

Just then, Mom seemed to remember something and turned to Patrick. "Pat, my work here is done today. Today's Freya's birthday. I need to go home and be with her."

The instant the footage appeared on the screen, Patrick's pupils contracted sharply. He immediately shouted at my Mom's retreating back.

"Hold up," Patrick called out.

Mom stopped in her tracks and turned around.

Patrick pointed at the surveillance footage. "Look at this figure. Doesn't it look like Aubree?"