Chapter 7 Sleepless Suspicions
"Did he drug me somehow?" Alison muttered to herself, troubled by how deeply she'd fallen asleep in Oliver's car twice now.
"Did he add some hypnotic gas to the air conditioning? Or did he knock me out when I wasn't looking?"
Alison pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily on her.
It was Thursday afternoon already. After another sleepless night, she had taken three different taxis, circling half the city to no avail. It had been over thirty-six hours since she last slept in Oliver's car, and the world around her was becoming increasingly blurry and distorted.
What frustrated Alison even more was her complete failure to get close to Matthew these past two days. Her inquiries about Matthew and Lucy among the school staff had yielded nothing useful. If anything, asking too many questions seemed to be raising suspicions.
Even the Triple Hanging case that Matthew was so fixated on hadn't provided her with any insights. Alison felt like a headless fly, lost in a maze of jumbled, fragmented clues.
The sudden ring of her phone interrupted her thoughts.
"You should be off work by now. I'm sending someone to pick you up," Oliver stated, not bothering to ask if Alison was available. Even if she had other plans, he expected her to prioritize his needs.
Alison wasn't annoyed by his commanding tone. Instead, her mind filled with joy at the prospect of finally getting some proper sleep.
"Fine, I'll wait for you at the school entrance," she said, grabbing her canvas bag and leaving her office. She asked Oliver about the case's progress.
"Landon's and Linda's crystal bracelets and Quincy's crystal ornament definitely came from the same source, but we haven't found the seller yet. The trail's gone cold for now," Oliver explained. "There's someone online claiming to be a 'criminal case expert' saying this whole thing was staged by Byron Reyes—have you seen that video?"
"No," Alison replied. Her interest in the Triple Hanging case had significantly diminished after determining it had no connection to Lucy's disappearance. She asked reluctantly, "Who's Byron?"
"The streamer who first discovered the crime scene," Oliver clarified.
Alison made a small sound of surprise as she remembered.
"Our official account received over ten thousand private messages in one day demanding Byron's arrest. The ridiculous part is that when my subordinate analyzed Byron's video based on this so-called expert's claims, they actually found something suspicious!" Oliver had just unleashed his anger on his subordinate, canceling their bonus for the month due to their oversight, but his mood remained foul.
"I'm going to meet Byron soon. Helen is visiting the victims' families, so I need another psychological analyst. You'll support me," he stated.
"Understood." Alison hung up and searched online for the video Oliver had mentioned.
The account was simply named "Criminal Case Expert" with no professional credentials. They had only posted one video with a clickbait title that had garnered over ten million views.
In the video, the "Criminal Case Expert," who wore a bronze-colored mask and spoke through a voice changer, appeared masculine. It began with comparison charts of Byron's follower count before and after the incident, followed by an overview of the Triple Hanging case. The dramatic tone and eerie background music effectively manipulated emotions. Then came a 0.5x speed analysis of Byron's micro-expressions during the livestream.
To Alison, the video clearly seemed designed to ride the trending topic and attack Byron, but viewers apparently agreed with its conclusions. Dense streams of comments cursed Byron, while others tagged law enforcement, mocking their incompetence and telling them to learn something.
No wonder Oliver was in such a bad mood.
An unfamiliar navy-blue car pulled up and honked at her. Alison looked over to see Susan in the driver's seat.
"Why is it you?" Alison asked, surprised.
"Not Mr. West himself. Disappointed?" Susan shot her a sidelong glance.
"A little bit, yes," Alison admitted frankly. She fastened her seatbelt, preparing to rest her eyes.
Susan seemed irritated. "Why can't you just take a taxi yourself? We're all swamped with work, and now we have to be your chauffeurs!"
"Because Oliver didn't give me the address. He just said someone would pick me up. I actually have my own car," Alison responded, unbothered by Susan's attitude. Having grown up in an orphanage, she had encountered all kinds of cold treatment and had long since grown accustomed to it.
There was no need to dwell on why someone disliked her. Some people just happened to meet, briefly travel together, and soon part ways. The only person in this world who truly loved her was her sister Lucy.
Susan hadn't expected such an agreeable response. Noticing the heavy fatigue on Alison's face, she felt a twinge of guilt. "How many days have you gone without sleep? Is work at the school that exhausting? You should rest a bit. We're heading to Byron's place now. Mr. West is already there. After that expert's video went viral, Byron's phone has been unreachable. We're worried something might have happened to them."
Alison gave Susan a surprised look, not expecting her tough exterior to hide a softer heart.
"Don't get mad at those online comments. Those keyboard warriors have no idea how hard you all work," Alison said absently, closing her eyes to cultivate sleepiness. But just as she was about to drift off, she was startled awake by a car horn from the adjacent lane.
"Honk, honk, honk! Like you're the only one with a horn!" Susan lowered her window and angrily blasted her own horn in retaliation. Turning to find Alison awake, she looked somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry, I forgot you were trying to sleep."
"It's fine," Alison replied quietly, gripping her seatbelt tighter, now fully alert.
Half an hour later, they arrived at Byron's residential complex.
However, Alison's perceptual disorder was in full effect; the world around her had completely transformed.
Susan had become an elephant wearing a navy-blue tulle dress with a crown on her head. Her long trunk swayed as she moved, and her thick feet exuded power and strength.
"Alison! Susan!" Alison heard Taylor's voice and turned to see a beautiful long-haired monkey bouncing toward them, followed by two large white birds.
Why were there two Olivers?
Alison rubbed her eyes in confusion, then looked more carefully. One was a goose, the other a duck.
Both had long, outstretched necks and waddled when they walked. Alison noticed one wore ordinary sneakers while the other wore designer leather shoes. She naturally assumed the one in leather shoes was Oliver.
"Are we going to see Byron now?" she asked him.
Oliver remained silent, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow as Alison addressed Manuel Barnett instead.
Manuel, a sketch artist, hadn't been at the villa on Tuesday and was meeting Alison for the first time today. He looked perplexed. "Hello?"
Alison quickly realized her mistake and turned to the other bird.
"You actually mistook me for someone else?" Oliver frowned at Alison's haggard appearance, quickly noticing her disoriented gaze—just like when they first met.
"I really can't tell the difference between a goose and a duck," Alison mumbled, then pointed at his shoes. "You're actually wearing something inexpensive?"
"Byron's doorway was splashed with paint and garbage. My shoes were ruined, so I'm making do with these cheap ones for now." Oliver strode forward. "No time for idle chat. Follow me, everyone."
Byron, twenty-five and single, lived alone. Terrified by the paint incident, he nervously asked about Oliver's intentions through the door repeatedly before cautiously opening it.
Alison remembered Byron's appearance—square face, small eyes, quite ordinary—but in her current hallucinatory state, Byron appeared wrapped in chaotic black lines, making his expressions impossible to discern.
A faint fragrance lingered in the air. Alison's nostrils flared slightly as she asked, "Did you spray air freshener?"
Would someone being cyberbullied, too afraid to leave home, bother with air freshener?
Alison's simple question instantly caused Byron's face to register alarm.