CHAPTER 139: CHAPTER 139: A NEEDLE IN THE SEA

Just stepping out of the ward, Ulysses Grant fished out a cigarette box from his pants pocket, took one out and bit it in his mouth. Just as he was about to light it, he remembered this was a hospital, and resentfully put the cigarette back.

He irritably kicked at the corner of the wall, "Life is like a play. Damn it, this one night is more exhausting than a month of cases."

Blake Sinclair didn’t respond, just looked at Holly Crowe by his side.

There was a flicker of complexity in his eyes, but in the end, he asked nothing and just held her tightly in his arms.

Upon leaving the hospital, Holly still needed to return to the police station to make an additional statement about what happened in the ward earlier.

Ulysses personally drove the two of them back to the police station.

As soon as the three of them entered the lobby, the crisp sound of high heels came from inside.

Raising their heads, they saw Shannon Yarrow walking out with an ivory-colored handbag, moving with composure, followed by two officers in police uniforms, likely just having finished giving a statement.

Upon seeing Holly, she paused and stopped in front of them.

Her gaze lightly swept over Holly, quickly passing her and landing on Blake Sinclair slightly to the side and behind.

At the sight of Blake’s hand on Holly’s waist, her eyes chilled slightly but quickly returned to normal.

"Teacher Holly, are you all right?" She eagerly stepped forward wanting to grab Holly’s arm, but Holly sidestepped out of the way.

Shannon’s hand hovered awkwardly in mid-air, but she smoothly retracted it, her face apologetic. "I just sent Old Mr. Roth back to the hotel when I got a call from the station saying that you, Teacher Holly, had an accident with my car. It really scared me."

"I’m really sorry, the liquor in the back seat was supposed to be delivered to Old Mr. Roth by the organizers. I planned to give it to him after the banquet, but got so busy I forgot.

"And, I lent my car to a friend a few days ago, and she accidentally bumped it. The headlight’s been needing repair but hasn’t been done yet. I explained all this during the statement earlier, to avoid causing you any trouble."

The police officers behind her stepped forward, exchanged a look with Ulysses, and nodded slightly.

Shannon’s words completely distanced herself from tonight’s car accident.

Holly felt suffocated inside.

She knew there was something fishy in Shannon’s words, yet each sentence sounded so reasonable that even the police found no flaws.

Shannon sighed, filled with lingering fear, "I watched the live stream tonight too. Fortunately, you didn’t drink the chilled brew, otherwise, if something had happened, I would have been hard-pressed to justify."

Holly watched her self-direct, casting herself as the innocent, guilt-ridden bystander, and the simmering anger she’d held all night flared up.

She no longer restrained herself, stepping forward half a pace, staring straight into Shannon’s disingenuous eyes, "Teacher Yarrow, you were considerate, even going so far as to detail so many specifics to the police."

Shannon: "It’s only fair; after all, the car is mine. I can’t let you suffer grievances in vain."

"It’s not really a grievance," Holly slightly curled her lips, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

"But to think you were busy attending to Old Mr. Roth, worrying about the organizers’ gift liquor, remembered to remind me at the banquet that the chilled brew was non-alcoholic, and even kept track of the minor car lamp issue, yet forgot to remind me when lending your car."

She slowed her speech, enunciating each word, "All these coincidental oversights happen to revolve around you. It’s a pity you didn’t buy a lottery ticket."

Holly’s words didn’t directly accuse, but laid out all those so-called coincidences, each probing the conscience.

It was like an invisible slap on Shannon’s feigned face.

Shannon’s perfect smile stiffened slightly, a flash of panic in her eyes quickly suppressed.

"Teacher Holly, what do you mean by this? I understand your mood might be bad after such an ordeal, but you can’t speculate out of thin air. The officers have proven I had nothing to do with tonight, are you questioning judicial fairness?"

"You know better than anyone what I mean. I just casually mentioned something, why so anxious?"

Holly pointedly watched Shannon’s hand tightening on the handbag, "But your earlier words did remind me. Mia Chapelle wasn’t at the banquet, how would she know I drank the chilled brew? Unless..."

She paused.

Shannon’s face turned a shade paler.

The two officers’ gazes landed on Shannon, carrying a hint of scrutiny.

Holly scoffed, pretending to have an epiphany as she looked at Ulysses Grant, "Officer Grant, did you check this matter? Could it be that Mia bribed a server?"

Ulysses took her lead, "It’s not impossible."

Holly deliberately nodded, "That must be it, unless someone at the banquet secretly tipped her off."

Her tone turned cold, "That would be truly despicable. Those who scheme such sinister plans, better pray they never leave a trace, or else, next time when things unravel, it might not be who they expect, right? Teacher Yarrow?"

Shannon barely managed a composed nod.

Watching her flustered state, Holly found a slight relief in her pent-up frustration.

Finished speaking, she no longer paid attention to Shannon’s expression, holding her head high as she brushed past her.

Blake Sinclair followed closely, not sparing even a glance at Shannon.

But in Shannon’s heart, it was more damaging than all of Holly’s sharp accusations.

Why, even now, he wouldn’t spare her a look?

Failing to gain your love, am I not even worthy of your hate?

.....

After completing the supplemental statement, night had fallen deep.

From the moment they got in the car, Holly perceived something was off with Blake Sinclair.

Though he continuously held her hand, he avoided meeting her eyes, his jawline taut, silent like a mountain shrouded in dark clouds.

Holly sighed silently inside.

Are thirty-year-old men always this capricious?

Clearly, everything was fine just a while ago at the hospital and station, why does he sulk now that they’re alone?

The heart of a man, like a needle at the bottom of the sea.

The atmosphere in the car’s backseat was stiflingly heavy, even the driver couldn’t bear it, coming up with a lame excuse about ’the streetlights being too bright’ to pull up the partition.

After arriving home, Blake still held her hand, even tighter than in the car.

Though Holly vaguely guessed why he was upset, she couldn’t bring herself to confront him, squeezing his fingers in a shake.

It was a small ritual between them, one that used to soften his emotions no matter the mood.

Yet this normally perceptive man now pretended not to understand, ignoring this cue.

Without a word, he withdrew his hand, bent to untie her shoelaces, and fetched a pair of slippers from the shoe cabinet for her.

Throughout the process, he never once looked up.

Holly gazed at his bent-over back, quietly stunned.

It’s over, even holding hands is off-limits.

As apprehension filled her, she noticed Blake lingering in a bent posture, motionless.

His gaze was firmly fixed on her lower leg.

Holly had a small habit; whenever swapping shoes in long pants, she instinctively rolled the cuffs to the knees for ease.

Now her cuffs were rolled above her knees. Following Blake’s gaze, she noticed a fresh bruise beneath her knee.

Probably from the sudden brake during the car accident, unnoticed amidst the evening’s events.

Blake stared intently at the bruise.

Holly sensed the chill in his mood deepening, the grip on the slippers turning white.

It’s over, truly over.

She hurriedly pulled down her cuffs.

Acknowledging her misstep, she tried to find a fresh topic.

But her mind was blank.

Where are those high EQ conversational techniques?

Think, brain, think!

Surely I’ve come across them online!

How is this different from facing a test question based on a neglected lesson!

Watching Blake straighten up, she quickly grabbed his hand, "Um, don’t forget to settle the overtime pay for the driver..."

It trailed off ridiculously, so she changed direction, "I’ll go take a shower first."

She sprinted to the bedroom, oblivious to his face growing more somber.

Rummaging through the wardrobe, Holly finally bundled some clothes and swiftly slipped into the bathroom.

The water splashed gently.

Blake stood outside the bathroom door, his back upright.

Suddenly, the bathroom door cautiously opened a crack, the moist heat and jasmine-scented bath gel fragrance wafting out.

Holly peeked half her head out, "Blake Sinclair, I forgot my towel, could you hand one over?"

The silhouette outside moved slightly.

Blake fetched a towel and approached the door, just reaching out.

A damp hand suddenly emerged through the crack, clasped his wrist, and gently pulled.

Blake, caught off guard, was drawn into the warm, moist bathroom.