Chapter 3: Undercover Shadows

At this, Leonard seemed to age suddenly. After a pause, he said with a sigh: "Although your interrogation of Quentin Ford gave us several breakthroughs, he’s too cunning—all crucial evidence has been hidden."

The lines on his face deepened as he spoke. I could see the toll this case was taking on all of us.

"So you found nothing?" I asked.

Leonard shook his head: "First, Leon Young’s death is full of doubts, but we can’t prove Quentin built the drone. The biggest question is—how could Quentin know Leon would book a room at the Lakeside Inn on the seventh day after Quinn Shaw’s death? There’s no way to explain it. Even if we find the drone, it’s not conclusive. Quentin’s communication and movement records show he never monitored the Young family. If it’s a coincidence, it’s too much of one…"

He let the words hang in the air, frustration clear in his voice. We’d chased shadows, followed dead-end leads, but Quentin always slipped away.

I understood. The five suspicious deaths were too bizarre. Unless Quentin confessed and detailed the methods, even a few pieces of evidence wouldn’t be enough to convict him.

It was like trying to nail smoke to the wall. The pieces just didn’t fit, no matter how hard we tried.

First, Quentin didn’t have the means to lure Leon to the hotel; second, where did the drugs come from? We checked all purchase and communication records for Quentin and his associates—no trace of sildenafil or Imdo…

We’d run every database, called in every favor. The trail was cold, but my gut told me Quentin was always just out of sight, grinning.

A case requires ironclad evidence. Anything less will be challenged in court.

I’d seen too many cases fall apart on technicalities. Prosecutors want a slam dunk, not a maybe.

Leonard sighed and sat down: "Captain Holloway, murder cases must be solved—especially these five heinous serial killings. If we can’t bring the real murderer to justice, it’ll destroy the police’s credibility. I hope you’ll return and lead Maple Heights’ criminal investigation to hunt down the killer and restore our reputation."

He sounded tired, but determined. The weight of the department rested on both our shoulders.

I thought for a moment, then said: "Chief Graves, I’m applying for suspension."

The words tasted strange in my mouth, but I knew it was the only way.

Leonard was stunned: "Captain Holloway, I know you suffered because of Mark Henson’s accusations. But you’re a cop and a leader—don’t act on impulse. If you’re suspended, who will lead Maple Heights’ investigation?"

He gave a long speech urging me to reconsider, but I had my own plan.

His voice was earnest, but I was already two steps ahead. I waited for him to finish, my mind racing.

I listened quietly, then suddenly looked up: "Chief Graves, can I trust you?"

I needed to know, right here and now, if he was with me.

Leonard replied without hesitation: "We’re both in law enforcement, we’ve sworn the badge, we’re on the same side. Why wouldn’t you trust me?"

There was a steeliness in his eyes, the kind you only get after years on the job. I nodded, feeling a flicker of hope.

Seeing his sincerity, I breathed a sigh of relief and shared my plan: "Chief Graves, I want to get close to Quentin Ford. That’s why I’m applying for suspension."

This time, Leonard didn’t immediately object, but stared into my eyes, then said: "Get close to Quentin Ford? Go on."

He leaned in, lowering his voice. The room felt smaller, more intimate—two cops plotting in the trenches.

I explained: "Quentin Ford is the most brilliant criminal I’ve ever met. To solve the accidental death case, I have to get inside his world. And Quentin…"

I paused, then revealed the secret I’d held for two weeks.

"The day he asked me to escort him out, he deliberately brought up my colleague who died in the line of duty, saying it was a setup. He also said that if I was willing to investigate the truth, he’d help me. Whether he’s lying or not, I suspect he wants to win me over or use my power to achieve some goal…"

Leonard asked: "What does that have to do with your suspension?"

I said: "When Lisa Young was killed, Quentin asked for me to interrogate him, and said he knew I was under investigation. That means someone in our department tipped him off. Otherwise, how could he know about the internal investigation while under surveillance? And during this two weeks, I was under constant review. If someone inside is tipping off Quentin, he’ll know I’ve been suffering. Once I’m suspended and isolated, I believe Quentin will contact me."

I added: "But all this depends on the news of my reinstatement not spreading. Chief Graves, has your document been made public yet?"

Leonard raised the file and joked: "Fresh off the press—fewer than five people have seen it."

His attempt at humor was a small relief—a reminder we were still on the same team.

Relieved, I said: "Good. After I’m suspended, please issue an internal notice stating that although I passed the review, due to certain issues, I’m suspended at home awaiting further action. That way, the word Quentin gets is that I’m frustrated and irritable over my suspension. If he wants to use me, he’ll make contact."

Leonard quickly understood: "You want to play the bitter card, go undercover around Quentin, and gather evidence, right?"

I nodded: "Exactly. Quentin is too cunning. The key evidence is hidden. If we want to crack the case, we have to start with him. He wants to use me, I’ll use the chance to get close to him. So I’ll apply for suspension and go undercover."

It was risky, but it was the only shot we had. The line between right and wrong had never felt thinner.

Leonard didn’t answer immediately, but after a moment’s thought, said: "Are you sure? Quentin is highly skilled in psychology. If he sees through your cover…"

He didn’t finish, but I understood—he was worried for my safety. Quentin had already committed five nearly perfect murders. If he discovered I had evidence, I’d be the next to "die by accident."

His concern was real, and I appreciated it. But I’d made peace with the risks long ago.

But I wasn’t afraid. As a criminal investigator, I can’t fear death. If I did, I wouldn’t be fit for this job.

I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze. "This is what I signed up for."

I said firmly: "Thank you for your concern, Chief Graves. I have a plan. As for the department…"