Ch. Chapter 4 Crimes Without Evidence Ch 4

Crimes Without Evidence Chapter 04

After escaping through the door, I knew I wouldn’t get far before Holt caught me. If that happened, my life could truly be in danger.

I ran to the seventeenth floor and knocked on the door of apartment  1703.

A university professor lived in 1703. His last name was Smith, but

I didn’t know his first name, so I always called him Professor Smith.

He had just moved in recently, was in his thirties, and had a gentle and refined demeanor. I had a good impression of him.

“Professor Smith, Professor Smith,

are you home? Holt’s trying to kill me.”

I pounded on the door forcefully, shouting in terror.

Footsteps echoed from the

stairwell. I knew it was Holt catching up.

There was no response from inside the apartment, and I started to cry softly in fear.

“Darling, come home with me. This is your last chance.”

Holt’s gloomy face emerged from the darkness, like a demon

crawling out of hell, approaching me step by step.

Just as I was about to give up hope, the door opened.

A pair of hands yanked me inside the apartment, slamming the door shut.

The tension of my narrow escape left me gasping for air, and a pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders. Under the comforting guidance of Professor Smith, I gradually regained my composure. Finding a sense of security, I threw my arms around him and began to sob loudly.

Professor Smith’s body noticeably stiffened for a moment. I could feel his breathing quicken. After a brief hesitation, he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around me.

I cried for about five minutes

before slowly calming down. Feeling somewhat embarrassed, I released my hold on him.

“I’m sorry, Professor Smith, I—”

Professor Smith adjusted his glasses, cutting off my attempt at an apology. When he noticed the blood on my clothes, he was visibly taken aback, but quickly regained his composure.

“Ms. Charlisle what happened? Did you have a fight with Holt?”

I shook my head, my face etched with fear.

“Holt is a murderer. He killed my best friend and her boyfriend. I think he wants to kill me now.”

Professor Smith listened in

disbelief, pausing to think for a

moment.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“No, I’m not joking. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Frantically, I searched my pockets, intending to call the police. It was then that I realized my phone was

still in Holt’s possession.

“Professor Smith, quick, call the police! If he gets in here, we’re done for.”

Professor Smith nodded, standing

up to dial 911 and inform the police

of the current situation.

After hanging up, he leaned against the desk, staring at me

with an odd expression.

Just as I was about to say something, a violent knocking

erupted from outside the door.

“Darling, stop playing games.

Come home with me,” Holt’s voice

rang out from the other side.

“Holt, I’ve already called the cops. You should turn yourself in,” I replied, my voice trembling.

Holt fell silent for a moment, then slammed his fist against the door.

Accompanied by fading footsteps,

it seemed he had left.

I let out a sigh of relief, nearly collapsing onto the couch.

Professor Smith was still staring at me, his gaze strange, full of

suspicion and confusion.

“Emily, calm down. What on earth is going on?”

I recounted everything that had happened today to Professor Smith in detail.

His expression flickered between light and dark, gradually becoming

serious.

“Emily, have you heard of the West

Side Killer?” I was momentarily stunned, my gaze shifting slightly as I slowly nodded.

“The West Side Killer is a serial rapist and murderer who brutally raped and killed five women over the course of six years.”

“This individual has an extremely strong anti-detection awareness. I once had the privilege of

participating in a special task force to track him down… I know a lot of inside information.”

He lowered his head after speaking.

“Without exception, all the girls targeted by the West Side Killer

were blonde. This killer seems to

have a particular fascination with blonde girls.”

“And you happen to be blonde as well, plus the photos you found on Holt’s phone…”

A peculiar glint flashed in Professor Smith’s eyes.

“I’m certain that Holt is the West

Side Killer responsible for those serial rape-murders!”

I was stunned, unable to believe it

for a moment.

Holt and I had been married for four years, and during those four years, he had always been good to me, never once losing his temper

with me.

Could it be that I had always been his captive prey?

No wonder he was so practiced when killing Lavender.

I sat on the ground, painfully tugging at my own hair. If it hadn’t been for my discovery today, I would have ended up like those girls after a while.

Professor Smith sighed, patting my shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid. You’re safe for now. I’ve already called the police. They’ll be here soon.”

I stared at him blankly, nodding.

Professor Smith boiled some water

and made me a cup of black tea.

The tea was exceptionally fragrant

and soothing to smell.

This helped ease my fearful and anxious heart a little.

“Thank you, Professor Smith,” I said, looking at him with a gentle smile.

He seemed a bit shy, clearing his throat twice as his cheeks  reddened slightly.

“It’s nothing. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

After finishing a cup of tea, I checked the time. It had been  almost an hour since the police  were called. Why hadn’t they  arrived yet?

Professor Smith noticed my  confusion and reassured me:  “Don’t worry. The police should be  here soon.”

He stood up, smiling softly.

“You must be exhausted after all this. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

I hesitated for a moment, but my mind was indeed worn out, so I agreed. He walked to the  wardrobe, intending to fetch a set of bedding for me.

It was strange; even though he  lived alone, why did he have a set of pink bedding?

Fatigue washed over me, and I let out a big yawn, my eyelids growing heavy.

Suddenly, a loud crash startled me. I looked around to find the source  of the noise.

It turned out that Professor Smith had accidentally knocked over a box while getting the bedding.

I walked over, wanting to help him pick it up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself.”

Professor Smith’s voice rose a  couple of notches as he bent down to stop me.

But I had already opened the box.

My eyes widened instantly.