Claimed By The Mafia Rogue King (Snow and Cupid) novel Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Snowflakes

Thanks.” Innurin

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softly to the café attendant who places the two cups of tea on the table. I reach for the pictures Quince has displayed, already spread before m

“Here are the pictures taken at the crime scenes, Quince says, pushing them closer. They’re the photos he downloaded from the cameras. I stare at them, speaking without looking up.

“Start from the beginning.”

“Which beginning?”

“From when H.OWL got the call and went to the crime scene,” I reply, lifting my eyes to see he is already chewing on the burger we ordered.

He takes another bite and begins.

“It was at dawn I got the call from Mr. Gerald. We all rushed over, not to H.OWL but straight to the vacation house. The detective team and the forensic team were already there.”

I nod, silently telling him to

“The body of Mr. Hanba was already in the body bag, but pictures had been taken. His throat was slashed.”

Hearing that, I go mute. My eyes lock with Quince’s. Slit throat. Murdered. And Cupid was there that night. What if… he really is the killer?

Earlier tonight, I summoned him and he came, handsome, dominant, radiating danger and gangster allure, and I accused him of murder. But deep down, I pray he isn’t capable of something that monstrous. He isn’t a killer. He can’t be.

“Didn’t they carry out an autopsy on Mr. Hanba’s body? I mean… that way they’d know what was used to cut his throat.”

“Cherry Billions says no,” Quince mutters, reaching for the burger again. “So we have to make do with the evidence we found.”

I look down at the pictures again, and my eyes land on the photo of the scalpel found on the snow, lying a bit away from the vacation home.

“Wrinks found that when she revisited the vacation house. The culprit must have thrown it finishing the murder.”

I pause, staring at the picture again and again, until something freezes inside me.

“What day did she find it?”

Quince pauses from eating and looks at me.

“I think last night. It was brought to H.O.W.L this morning.”

away after

“That’s impossible,” I murmur, and Quince freezes again, his eyes fixed on me until I extend the photo toward him.

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at door wit. That means the picture was faken this morning

nest unusual We bad rainfall from dawn to this most

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dhut year said the evidence, the walpel, was found last night. I say, and at once he pauses, one eyebrow.

Snow.. it’s bold of you to doulst Wrinks, the head of the detective department”

He’s right. It’s bold. And I shouldn’t move recklessly. I lover my gaze to the other pictures, and suddenly I stop when my eyes land on the picture of a man. Brown Fash.

“Brown Fash is the night watchman on that night, the one who witnessed the murder, right?” I ask, and Quince nods.

“Yes. He was supposed to come give his statement, but he didn’t show up. His whereabouts remain a mystery till now.”

Something is wrong. And right there, I know for sure someone smarter is hiding the real murderer, trying to condemn my brother to jail. I must move fast.

“Any family members of Brown Fash?”

Quince shakes his head.

“After profiling him, he’s an orphan and a single father.”

“His child?”

“His daughter was sick, hospitalized.”

“Did you ever check the hospital? He would definitely be there with her.”

Quince pauses, then shakes his head slowly.

“We only handle profiling. Detectives bring in witnesses and interrogate them. Since Brown Fash didn’t appear on the day he promised, we never followed up.”

A loophole. I spring from the chair, abandoning my tea and leaving payment on the table.

“Come on, Quince. Let’s check the hospital.”

“But…”

I don’t wait. I hurry out and jump into my car. Quince follows quickly, sliding in beside me.

“Go on. The hospital’s a block from H.O.W.L,” he says.

I press the pedal and we shoot off. The ride is fast, and we arrive just before midnight. I park and step out while Quince checks his phone for the ward number.

“She’s on the second floor,” he says, leading the way.

We approach the reception, Quince flashing his badge since I haven’t gotten mine yet.

“Profiler from H.O.W.L. We’re here to check on Brown Fash’s daughter. He’s her father and guardian.”

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The bright nods politely, checking the records. After a few moments, she looks up. frowning slightly

“Oh, that’s Angelic Fash, the young girl recovering from kidney failure. She was discharged two nights ago. Her father signed the papers.”

I pause. Something isn’t right, Kidney failure… discharge… that doesn’t add up.

“Is she fully recovered?” I ask, my voice trailing off.

“I’m sorry, Lean’t give more details. Patient privacy,” she says. “I only know her well because she’s resilient. Why are profilers asking?”

I ignore her question. One thought weighs heavily.

“Was she discharged by her doctor, or did her father demand it?”

The receptionist studies me quietly, then shakes her heal.

“Mr. Brown was in a hurry that night. He didn’t even wait for the receipt before leaving with his daughter.”

I swallow hard. Pieces fall into place. Either he’s under threat, or running. Either way, his silence is required by the real killer.

I step away from the desk, pulling out my cellphone. Kashi isn’t the murderer. He’s a Frost. A Frost doesn’t

kill.

Send Gifts

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