But the ring itself—the one they'd pried from what was left of my flesh—he could never bring himself to look at again.
Curt couldn't let himself remember sitting down and writing those words on the autopsy report: *no significant investigative evidence found on the remains.*
He closed his eyes, then walked back into the interrogation room.
On the other side of the wall, the Forensics Unit was rapidly narrowing down the search, closing in on the kidnapper's location.
I followed close behind Curt, watching him put on his mask of grief, and ground my teeth.
I wanted to reach out and slap him across the face, ten times over.
My hand went right through him.
The clock read ten thirty.
After several rounds of back-and-forth, Curt was visibly agitated, pacing the room.
"What the hell do you want me to say?!"
"If it saves Bernice, I'll die. I'll do whatever you want!"
The kidnapper blinked, then burst out laughing.
"Professor Baxter, you know exactly what to say."
He mimed swirling a reagent bottle.
Curt went rigid.
Of course he knew.
The reagent bottle was where it all started.
On the other side of the soundproof glass, one of the officers who had worked acid-attack cases before couldn't hold back:
"Look, there's fault on both sides here. Why keep going after Curt Baxter over this?"
"Exactly. Is the kidnapper just stalling for time? There's only an hour and a half left before he kills her!"
Inside, Curt's face had drained to something almost translucent.
Captain Carter frowned slightly and pressed his earpiece to relay a message.
"The Forensics Unit just traced the kidnapper's location. It's… Professor Baxter's residence."
"I've already dispatched the Police Task Force to rescue Miss Barnes. All you need to do is keep the kidnapper talking."
Curt exhaled hard, something in his chest finally unclenching.
But the next moment, his pupils contracted sharply.
Because the kidnapper had just produced the real decisive evidence.
On camera, a bloodstained scrap of dress fabric appeared.
Floral print. The stitching was clearly amateur but neat.
"This was left at Millie Sullivan's death scene."
"I checked. The killer left fingerprints and blood on it."
The kidnapper's voice was hoarse, interrupted by a weary, dry cough. He took a sip of water before continuing.
"Professor Baxter, you hid this in your home. Did it never occur to you that I'd find it?"