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After taking a moment to calm down, I snapped a photo of the death certificate and sent it back to the police station, asking them to investigate how John Miller died and where his body was now.
Then I photographed and collected evidence from Lily Johnson's room, carefully examining the bed sheet. Apart from the strong smell of cigarette smoke, there were no other clues.
Just as I wrapped things up ,the female police officer returned with Lily Johnson. There was a faint smile on the girl’s face, and she looked noticeably more at ease.
I shot the female police officer a look and pulled her aside, quietly telling her that John Miller had died three days ago.
She stared at me in shock. "Then how was Lily raped? she asked. "Could she have made it up ?"
I frowned. Something about this still didn’t sit right with me.
If John Miller was really dead, then this wasn’t just a rape case anymore.
Even if he’d been a despicable pervert who deserved to die, we were still police — and we had to find whoever killed him.
I asked my female colleague to return to the station while I stayed behind — I still had a few more questions for Lily Johnson.
In the afternoon,seeing that Lily had recovered a bit, I prepared to ask her some more specific questions.
"Lily, as you know, John Miller is missing. To find him, I need to ask you a few more detailed questions — is that okay? "
Lily sat in front of me, hands resting on her knees and nodded.
I took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes ,and asked," Can you remember what state John Miller was in last night ?"
Lily paused for a moment, then shook her head. "No. I was sleeping deeply, and my head felt fuzzy. I only vaguely saw him on top of me."
I immediately caught the inconsistency and pressed her. "You were likely drugged, weren’t you? In that situation, you couldn't have seen clearly. So how were you sure it was John Miller?"
Lily looked up at me with wide eyes. "It was the smell of cigarettes,” she said. “He always had that cheap brand on him. Among everyone I know, only John Miller smokes that kind.”
I frowned slightly, then asked, "Have you opened your bedside table in the past three days?"
Lily shook her head and replied, “No.” Then she looked at me and added, “Officer, is that really important?”
I found myself momentarily speechless. That unsettling feeling in my gut only grew stronger.
Throughout the questioning, I watched Lily Johnson closely. There was something… off about her.
First of all,the basis for identifying John Miller was the smell of cigarettes.But her father had passed away early,and for a girl living alone with her mother, how could she be so sensitive — even familiar — with the scent ?
Secondly, Lily Johnson seemed far too calm — almost as if the assault had never happened to her at all.
Even with our reassurance, no ordinary person could’ve recovered so quickly.
Something about this just didn’t add up.
I offered Lily a few more words of comfort, then said goodbye left .
Just then, I noticed a message from my colleague at the station.
John Miller was confirmed dead— the cause of death was cardiac arrest. But strangely, he had no history of heart problems. history of heart problems.
Shocked, I immediately called my colleague.
"The body is missing. What the hell is going on?"
