"What?!" Frank's eyes widened, brows furrowed in disbelief.
"But how's that even possible?" Stephanie leaned forward, her voice tight with confusion.
"He was caught red-handed. He admitted to it," Ray added, pacing slightly. "Sir, are you sure about this?"
Scott stood still for a second, then nodded, calm but firm. "If you look at the three victims, they weren't just stabbed—they were slaughtered. Multiple deep wounds, overkill. That kind of rage? It's personal. It's not for fun."
Stephanie crossed her arms. "Exactly. Allen said he enjoyed it, said it was 'thrilling.' That doesn't track with someone acting out of anger or vengeance."
"That scumbag…" Ray muttered, punching his fist into his other palm. "He was playing us the whole time."
"He and Mr. Simon are pawns," Scott continued, stepping into the center of the room. "Someone else is pulling the strings. When we interviewed Simon, the real mastermind must've realized we were closing in—and he put a plan into motion."
"Still," Stephanie said, shaking her head, "Why would Allen take the fall? What kind of man willingly goes down for something so gruesome?"
Scott's eyes narrowed. "Because he feels indebted. My guess? He thinks this guy did him a favor by killing his wife and her lover. Taking the blame is his way of saying thanks."
"You mean to tell me... he's showing gratitude for a double homicide?" Ray snapped.
"It's just a theory," Scott said. "But it's all we have until we get solid evidence."
"That sick bastard," Stephanie muttered, jaw clenched.
"Completely twisted," Frank added, still trying to wrap his head around it.
[FLASHBACK - February 6th, 10:03 PM]
The bar was dimly lit, a haze of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Allen sat hunched at the counter, face flushed and hands trembling. Empty liquor bottles surrounded him like fallen soldiers.
"One more!" he shouted, slamming the table. "Bartender, another damn bottle!"
His voice cracked. His eyes, bloodshot.
"That cheating witch! How dare she crawl into bed with that piece of trash!"
From the corner, a man in a black coat and wide-brimmed hat quietly watched, his face hidden in the shadow. He sipped a dark drink without blinking.
The bartender whispered to the bouncer. Allen was causing a scene. He had to go.
A moment later, Allen was being dragged out, still shouting.
"I'll kill 'em both! I swear, I'll rip 'em apart!"
As he stumbled into the alleyway, panting and raging, the man in the black hat followed.
"Need help with that?" the stranger asked, calm and collected.
Allen spun around, stunned.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Let's just say… someone who punishes sinners." The man smiled.
[BACK TO PRESENT]
"I've got Mr. Simon's ex-wife's address," Ray said, glancing up from his phone.
"Not sure she'll know much though."
Scott grabbed his coat. "We'll see. Sometimes mothers know more than they let on."
"Frank, analyze Allen's call log. Then you and Ray track his GPS data from January 5th onward," Scott ordered.
"You got it, sir," Frank replied, already turning to his workstation.
Scott looked at Ray. "Keep an eye on your partner."
Ray smirked. "Don't worry, I've got him on a short leash."
"Let's move. We've wasted enough time," Scott said, pushing through the station doors.
As they walked out, Ray grinned wide. "You hear that? Even the boss knows I'm better than you."
Frank scoffed without looking up. "Keep dreaming."
In the van, Stephanie glanced at Scott as she drove. "Sir, why aren't we interrogating Mr. Simon yet?"
Scott gave her a sideways glance. "Why do you think?"
She hesitated. "Well… he might slip up. Maybe tell us something useful."
"Reasonable thought," Scott said, nodding.
"But tell me—does Mr. Simon strike you as the type to spill easily?"
"No, I guess not," she admitted. "He was acting more like a scared parent."
"Exactly," Scott replied. "And that's what worries me. He pleaded with us to find his 'missing son'—but not once did he say the kid's name. Not even once."
Stephanie's eyes widened. "So you think his son's the one in charge?"
"Yes. And the longer we hold Mr. Simon without pressing him… the more pressure we put on his son."
"The more nervous he gets," Stephanie finished.
"Exactly." Scott leaned back. "And when he breaks, we'll be there waiting."