After sorting through the chaotic thoughts in her head, Claire Whitmore finally stepped out of the car with firm strides.
As soon as she entered the precinct, she saw Detective Sinclair wave her over.
"Claire Whitmore, where's that photo? I heard from the forensics lab. Bring it here and show everyone."
All eyes turned toward her with curiosity, but Claire didn't say a word. With a serious expression, she handed the license plate info she had received to Ava Monroe, the officer in charge of background checks.
"Ava, can you help me look up who owns this vehicle?"
Ava was still sipping her soy milk. Hearing that, she quickly put it down.
"What's up with the car?"
Claire's face darkened. Noticing everyone was staring, she finally told them about her near-attack earlier that morning.
However, she left out the car crash—and everything about seeing Alexander Hale.
Learning she had been followed early in the morning, and that the suspects might've been armed, Detective Sinclair immediately took the matter seriously.
After all, this wasn't a minor incident. As a police detective, being targeted by criminals was a real risk that couldn't be overlooked.
"Do you have any leads, Claire Whitmore?" Sinclair asked.
Claire shook her head.
"No. I've been on the force five years and never made any serious enemies—certainly none that would involve armed criminals. Right now, I have no leads. We'll have to start from the investigation."
"Alright, got it. In the meantime, stay alert. Try not to act alone. We've got enough people in this department—surely someone can keep an eye on you. I'll assign Ethan Blake to stick with you. That'll give me peace of mind," said Sinclair, glancing at Ethan, who had been visibly tense ever since hearing about the incident.
Caught off guard, Ethan blinked but quickly responded, "Okay!"
"Fine by me," Claire had no objections either.
Ethan walked over to her with a cheeky grin, patted his chest, and said, "Don't worry, Claire Whitmore—I've got your back!"
Claire gave him a side-eye and said dryly, "You can't even beat me in a fight, and you're saying that?"
Ethan looked embarrassed and tried to laugh it off.
"I was holding back, alright? You're a lady—I wouldn't dare go all out. Besides, I also…"
He choked on the next words—he couldn't bring himself to say "like you."
"What besides?" Claire raised her eyebrows. He coughed awkwardly and muttered, "Nothing."
Claire didn't press him. Now that everyone was focused on the attack, she finally mentioned the missing photo.
She told a small lie: that she hadn't secured the photo properly and it had flown out the window while she was driving. No one knew where it had gone.
Detective Sinclair wasn't in the mood to worry about a lost photo. He just waved it off. "Lost it? Fine."
After thinking it over, Sinclair decided to hand the case entirely over to Claire. He also assigned Ethan and Ava to assist her.
The case only required identifying the deceased and waiting for family members to claim the body. The workload wasn't huge, and this setup would also prevent her from wandering around and getting into danger.
What Sinclair didn't know was that this case would not only have her running around—it would have her crossing time itself. And this was exactly what Claire had been waiting for. She had too many questions that needed answers.
Ethan came over and asked, "Claire, did you get a good look at the photo? Can it help ID the victim?"
That reminded Claire—she had almost forgotten.
Could the remains really belong to Alexander Hale?
She wasn't sure. Instead of answering, she pulled up a chair and sat beside Ava Monroe.
"Can you help me look up someone named Sterling Vale?"
Ethan stood behind her, curious.
"Who's Sterling Vale?"
"An actor. He's the man in the photo," Claire replied, her eyes fixed on the screen.
"Sterling Vale?" Ethan rubbed his chin and thought about it.
"Nope, never heard of him."
Claire had assumed that with the precinct's information networks, she'd find at least some trace. But after searching, Ava shook her head. Nothing.
Claire tapped her fingers on the table and bit her lip in thought. A moment later, she wrote down another name on paper.
Ava glanced at it.
"Alexander Hale? Who's that?"
"I'd like to know that too. Just search it first," Claire said urgently.
Ava didn't delay. She typed "Alexander Hale" into the system.
Plenty of results came up. Claire carefully weeded out unrelated info—but still found no trace of the man she was looking for.
She refused to give up. Then she accidentally spotted a social media account under the name Thomas Hale. In a small blurb, the name "Alexander Hale" appeared.
Excited, Claire asked Ava to open the profile. Ava did, but the post was locked.
Normally, that would be a dead end. But for Ava Monroe? Just a few keystrokes.
Within moments, she had hacked into the account and opened the post.
It turned out to be a biographical profile—about Alexander Hale.
The moment the article loaded, a black-and-white portrait appeared on the screen.
Claire had braced herself, but still—when she saw that familiar face, her heart skipped a beat.
Scenes of him speaking to her flashed in her mind—him putting the watch on her wrist, his hand holding hers. His hand hadn't been what she imagined—it was warm and strong, slender but powerful, and very real.
Even in black and white, his features were breathtaking. Sharp brows, bright eyes, defined cheekbones, and a noble elegance that radiated through the screen.
He wore a perfectly tailored suit, seated in a classic car, his eyes gazing out the window with a look that seemed like a heartfelt farewell—full of tenderness and longing.
"D*mn… that's a fine man. Too bad we'll never see him in person," Ava sighed.
Her voice brought Claire back to reality. She looked beside the photo and found his birthdate and life history.
Alexander Hale, stage name Sterling Vale, renowned actor.
Born July 24, 1956.
Went missing on May 4, 1988.
Declared legally deceased years later.
He only lived to be 32.
The dates stunned Claire. Born in 1956? Then what year had she seen him in?
She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, replaying everything in her mind.
She clearly remembered the crash. The photo had landed in her hand—and then disappeared.
When she opened her eyes, Alexander Hale was right in front of her.
Could it be… the photo had taken her back in time?
And the moment the camera flashed—she returned? With time rewinding by about five minutes?
That idea would've sounded ridiculous to her once. But now, it was the only explanation that made any sense.
Ava was still reading the article and gasped.
"This guy's real? Harvard graduate at eighteen, two master's degrees, fluent in seven or eight languages, plays both piano and violin—and won major international competitions in both. And he's a decorated actor too, with countless awards?"
And that wasn't all. The article said his family had immigrated to the U.S. when he was six. He grew up in the States.
His father was a famous business tycoon—he'd been born with a silver spoon.
Sadly, his father passed away early. Before turning twenty, Alexander took over the struggling family business.
He managed to juggle acting while keeping the company afloat—and even led it to a public offering.
Though he was raised in the U.S., his heart longed for his homeland. He eventually returned.
His entire life had been devoted to philanthropy. Few knew that nearly all his acting income had gone to charity. He kept very little for himself.
When she finished reading, Ava Monroe looked skeptical.
"If someone like this really existed back then, how come no one's ever heard of him? Not even in film history?"
Especially strange—none of the movies listed in the article showed his scenes. Some didn't exist at all.
"This has to be made up, right? Maybe he never existed," Ava wondered aloud.
"I'm with you. Totally fake," Ethan said after reading through it too. "No way anyone's that perfect."
Claire, however, sat quietly.
She was astonished.
So… he really was that extraordinary?