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"I'm not sure. I contacted the department that issued the death certificate. They said that John Miller's body was claimed by his family members. But here’s the thing —we haven't found any records of his relatives. As far as we know, he lived completely alone "
As I listened to my colleague, my breathing grew quicker.
After hanging up, I was sure of one thing — this case was definitely not as simple as it seemed.
At this point, if we could just find John Miller’s body, everything might come to light.
Over the next few days, I visited John Miller's workplace , spoke to his colleagues, and tracked down the few friends he had.
Without exception, none of them knew he was missing— let alone that he was dead.
It was as if a living person had vanished into thin air.
wouldn’t hear anything news about John Miller until a week later.
Someone in John Miller’s apartment building filed a complaint — there’d been a persistent foul smell coming from the sewer. The property management had checked several times but couldn't locate the source. They suspected a dead rat was blocking.
It just goes to show — the power of ordinary people can’t be underestimated.
It was the property maintenance worker who discovered John Miller’s body. Horrified, he immediately called the police.
When we arrived saw the bizarre, gruesome scene, we couldn’t help but gasp in horror.
John Miller's body was stuffed inside the drainage pipe beneath his toilet. It had been submerged in water for days, and the decay had produced an overpowering stench.
To avoid public panic, the scene was sealed off immediately.
As an assisting police officer, I remained at the scene alongside the forensic examiner.
John Miller's body was curled up tightly, rms wrapped around his legs, crammed into the sewer pipe like a fetus in the womb.
But we had already measured the maximum width and height of the sewer pipe — there was simply no way a man his size could have gotten into it in that position. It defied all logic.
Moreover, there were no fingerprints or traces of anyone else in John Miller's bathroom, and the building’s sewer pipes showed no signs of damage.
That left only one possibility left: he had climbed into the pipe himself — through the toilet.
How he ended up twisted into that impossible position remained an unsolved mystery.
According to the forensic examiner’s on-site analysis, John Miller’s body had likely been submerged in the pipe for about a week.
In other words, when I searched for his apartment a week ago — he was probably already in that pipe.
And at that time, he had already been dead for three days.
How could a dead man have raped Lily Johnson, then climbed into the toilet pipe on his own — and remained submerged there for seven days in such a grotesque position?
My eyes widened, ,and a shiver ran through my entire body. None of the police officers n site could make sense of what we were seeing.
After completing the autopsy, the forensic examiner stumbled outside and vomited — unable to stomach what he’d just seen.
I fought back the urge to throw up as the stench from John Miller’s body burned in my nose. Still, I squatted beside him.
Driven by the duty to get to the truth — no matter how filthy or difficult — I leaned in to take a closer look.
Sure enough, I spotted a clue.
The sewer pipe in the building wasn’t fully submerged in water. — only John Miller’s back had been soaked. His hands, feet, and limbs remained relatively intact.
Then I noticed something strange — all ten of John Miller’s fingers were twisted in a way no ordinary person could manage. But they weren’t random. It was as if they were pointing to something. All of them aimed at the pocket on his chest.
My instincts told me this detail was important.
I pulled on my gloves, frowned, and gently moved his limbs to clear access to his chest.
Sure enough, something white peeked out from his chest pocket.
I opened his pocket and found a piece of paper, soaked through and nearly translucent. It looked like it would fall apart with the slightest touch. Faded words were still barely visible across its surface. I squinted, trying to read it. It was a sentence — but most of the words had already faded beyond recognition.
Scattered and barely legible ,there were only five words.
"Lily wants to kill me!"
A chill ran through me. I couldn't help but think back to Lily Johnson's unsettling calmness when I questioned her a week ago.
Could she have been the one who really killed John Miller?
