Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace (Dexter and Phoebe) novel Chapter 188

Chapter 188 

“Colin, are you hurt? Who’s been picking on you?” 

“They ruined the cupcake I made for you…” 

Memories, strange and unfamiliar, began to surface in my mind–snapshots of a little girl crouching beside a boy, inquiring about his injuries. 

The little boy was holding a smashed cupcake, his eyes brimming with tears. 

The girl was dressed in a red dress; she took a piece of the ruined cupcake and tasted it. “It’s so sweet.” 

My head pounded as if it were about to split open. I rubbed my temples, but the alien memories clung to me, persistent and unsettling. 

What were they? 

“Madam, would you like something to eat?” The nanny’s voice came softly through the door. 

Her words pulled me back to the present, and I stepped outside. “Where’s Caleb?” 

The nanny glanced around before speaking in a hushed tone, “Mr. Caleb… we don’t know where he has gone.” 

A frown creased my brow. Where could he be? 

“Madam, I haven’t been here long, but you might ask Wendy; she’s been with the Langley family for ages.” 

I nodded, not wanting to trouble the young nanny further, and made my way downstairs. 

Ever since Samuel’s accident and Brendan’s stroke, the Langley family had undergone a complete overhaul. The old staff was gone, except for Wendy, who still managed the kitchen; the rest had been let go. 

“Wendy, where’s Caleb?” I was irritable earlier and somewhat short with Colin, and I hoped I hadn’t hurt his feelings. 

“Madam, Mr. Caleb takes some time away each year at this date. He asked me to tell you to rest well and eat properly,” said Wendy. 

Colin wasn’t at the Langley estate. Still, I couldn’t shake off a nagging worry for him; his moods were so unpredictable. 

“Did he say where he was going?” I pressed. 

Wendy shook her head. “We dare not pry into Mr. Caleb’s affairs.” 

After eating only a few bites, I left the house, distracted. 

1/3 

10:02 

Chapter 188 

On the way to my destination, the memory of the girl in the red dress and the boy with the cupcake consumed my thoughts. 

“Phoebe…” 

“Phoebe.” 

The boy’s face was a blur, but I remembered a cut at the corner of his mouth. Desperately, I tried to recall his features. 

Lips, nose, eyes… 

I suddenly sat upright, my breath catching. 

Colin. 

Why was I thinking of Colin’s face? The young boy with mixed heritage, his eyes so clear and piercing. 

“Madam, we’ve arrived.” The driver announced our destination and parked the car. 

Snapping back to reality, I stepped out to face the dilapidated alleyway, littered with trash and reeking of decay. 

This was Sea City’s last slum, an undeveloped demolition area. 

Many homeless gathered here, a melting pot of the desperate and lost. 

I was there to see Zoe, Carter’s sister–the woman with mental challenges, yet somehow accused of orchestrating the murder. 

Navigating the dirty staircase to the third floor, I was surrounded by refuse. 

“Fucking hell, paying 200 bucks for a woman like you is already being generous,” echoed the coarse language through the hallway, a clear indication of the sordid activities taking place. 

At room 306, the metal door swung open, and a man, fastening his pants, emerged cursing and embodying vulgarity.