The Crime System

Who is Lisa?

Luke was scared that Priscilla might solve the case before him, and he never stopped monitoring her conversations while working on finding the girl. The invisible eavesdropper he planted had a forty-seven-hour effective period, giving him ample time before it wore off.

From what he'd overheard, Priscilla was beginning to realize her investigation might be heading in the wrong direction and was now searching for a new lead. Team B, meanwhile, had already started considering revenge as a motive. Someone even mentioned the word "piano." If they continued at that pace, they'd catch up to him in no time.

"Holy s**t!" Luke muttered under his breath. Hearing Team B's progress while staring at the address on the map Aaron Dawson had given him made him feel uneasy. He wasn't sure if the new evidence he'd uncovered would actually lead to the culprit.

The address pointed to 55 Willow Creek Street, near an old chapel called Saint John's Temple. It seemed unremarkable at first glance, but for someone like Luke, who knew every detail about the "Severed Maimed Case," it was anything but ordinary.

The area around Saint John's Temple was where the culprit had fled after mutilating Lisa Mendes's hand. Priscilla had analyzed this before. Since the perpetrator had managed to avoid every camera in the vicinity, it was deduced they either lived in the area or were very familiar with it.

Judging by the address, the former was true. The house at Willow Creek Street was only a few hundred feet from where Lisa's BMW had been stopped. If the culprit had walked briskly, they could've reached it in under two minutes.

The proximity shook Luke. Was the culprit bold enough to commit a crime practically in front of their own home? He couldn't help but question himself: Could he be wrong? Was this another dead end, just like before?

His confidence was shaken, thanks to his previous failures. He even started doubting whether the girl genius he suspected had anything to do with the case. "If I'm wrong again…" He shook off the thought and headed to the address.

Willow Creek was a neglected neighborhood on the outskirts of town, not far from Phoenicia. Originally part of another district, it had been absorbed into the city over the years, but its old-world charm had faded into poverty and disrepair. People called it the slums. Here, you could find all walks of life: poor residents, migrant workers, and those peddling illegal goods.

Number 55 was no different—an old, rickety house with three rooms and a small yard. The leaning walls and rusted iron gate looked like they could give out at any moment.

"No way," Luke whispered, staring at the address. Lila Davis's family lives here? The stark contrast between the brilliance he associated with her and this run-down house filled him with doubt.

He knocked on the gate. A frail, wavering voice called out almost immediately, "Coming! Who is it?"

Luke peeked through the c***k in the gate. An elderly, hunchbacked woman shuffled toward him. "Excuse me," he asked, "is this Hannah Davis's residence?"

"Yes, yes! Wait a moment!"

Relief washed over him. This was indeed the address from her medical records.

When she opened the door, Luke quickly scanned her face. Her pale, weak frame and kind eyes didn't betray any suspicion or recognition of who he was.

"Hello," he said, standing tall. "I'm Officer Luke Sullivan, and I'd like to ask you some questions. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated."

"Oh, a police officer!" she exclaimed, immediately stepping aside to let him in. "Come in, come in!"

Her openness caught Luke off guard. He had hoped to gauge her reaction to his arrival, to see if she would panic or act suspicious. But her calm demeanor left him feeling this visit might be a dead end.

Inside, the decor was sparse and worn, reflecting the simplicity of her life.

"Officer, I don't leave the house much," she explained, offering him a plastic stool. "I'm sick, you see. What do you need from me?"

Luke already knew about her illness—stomach cancer, treated with a major surgery and grueling chemotherapy. But this wasn't the time to dwell on her suffering.

"I'd like to know about your family," he said bluntly. "Do you have a daughter named Lila Davis?"

"Yes, yes," she nodded, "but she hasn't gone by that name in years. She changed it to Lila Yarrow."

Lila Yarrow. The name struck a chord with Luke. "Does your daughter live with you?"

"Of course," the woman replied with pride. "Her father passed away years ago. It's just the two of us now. My daughter's so obedient—she takes care of everything, inside and out."

It was sad to hear Lila Yarrow had lost her father so early. "What kind of work does your daughter do?" Luke asked.

"Oh, my daughter's incredibly talented!" she beamed. "She's done so many jobs over the years: cab driver, nurse, and even theater work! She works so hard to take care of me. She hasn't even found a husband yet! You're a fine young man—should I introduce you to her?"

Theater work. Luke's mind immediately jumped to the one-sided film used in Lisa's BMW—a type commonly used in stage productions. Could there be a connection?

He pressed further. "Did your daughter ever play the piano?"

Her reaction was immediate and startling. The calm, gentle old woman was suddenly on her feet, her face pale with fear. "Officer, please don't mention the piano again! If my daughter finds out…" She trailed off, shaking her head violently. "That word… it's a taboo in this house!"

Luke's heart raced. Piano. The word struck a nerve—and perhaps the key to unraveling the mystery.