Paint Me Blue

VIII. An Age-Old Logic

In the bureau's stark, fluorescent-lit interrogation room, Yin stepped in as Officer Howard prepared to leave, having just wrapped up his questioning with Gerald Feng, Marcus's personal assistant. Yin's gaze fell on Gerald, who sat slumped at the table, his hands clenched, eyes shadowed with a mix of defiance and bitterness. He didn't flinch under Yin's stare, his expression almost daring Yin to test him further.

Howard pulled Yin aside, lowering his voice. "He insists he did it," Howard reported, the weight of the statement clear in his tone. "Claims he killed Marcus out of sheer spite. Says he was once one of Marcus's... victims."

There was a pause, and Howard glanced over his shoulder at Gerald, who was now staring blankly at the table. "The only way out of that place was to kill the devil himself," Howard added grimly, echoing the assistant's words.

Yin absorbed the information, his expression unreadable. Steeling himself, he nodded and thanked Howard, who left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

In the dimly lit monitoring room, War sat alongside Bonz, his gaze fixed on the screen showing Yin and Gerald in the interrogation room. War observed Gerald's face closely, his keen eyes now catching the subtle changes in expression. The twinges of pain, anger, and something unspoken, lurking just beneath the surface. Unlike his initial, cursory observation back at the crime scene, War now gave Gerald his undivided attention, scrutinizing every detail with his trained eye.

War's thoughts drifted back to St. Bethany shelter, where he had witnessed a similar moment of unraveling. A fifteen-year-old boy named John, whom they had spoken to, had seemed calm at first, masking his emotions under a composed front. But at the mere mention of Gerald's name, John's facade shattered. He'd broken down, pleading with the officers to spare his older brother, insisting that he alone was responsible for the crime.

John and Gerald were half-brothers, tied together by a shared hardship. After their mother abandoned them, Gerald had raised John, becoming both his guardian and protector. At just fifteen, Gerald had taken up odd jobs, struggling to provide for them until he crossed paths with Marcus, the cult leader, who had promised him security and a brighter future. Desperate to survive and believing he had no other options, Gerald had agreed to join Marcus's inner circle and only to realize too late the darkness he was walking into.

In the interrogation room, Yin began the questioning with a calm, steady voice. "Tell me, Gerald," he said, leaning forward, "how exactly did you poison Marcus?"

Gerald's eyes dropped to the table, his tone almost matter-of-fact. "I prepared a drink for him," he replied quietly. "Made sure it was just for him. Afterward, I... cleaned up. I knew you'd be looking for something, so I took care of it."

Yin gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.

"You're saying you wiped every trace?"

Gerald lifted his eyes briefly, and for a moment, Yin caught a hint of relief...almost as if this confession was lifting a weight from him.

"Yes," Gerald murmured. "Every trace."

Without another word, Yin picked up the tablet he'd brought with him and tapped the screen, pulling up a video. He turned it so Gerald could see. "Take a look at this," he said, his tone sharp with intent.

As the clip played, Gerald's eyes narrowed, watching a blurred figure flee through the villa's gates. Yin crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Gerald's face. "This footage," he said, "was recovered from the real security tapes, not the doctored ones framing Jason Chen. The timestamps match, but this time, we're seeing what really happened."

Gerald's initial shock was quickly replaced by a smooth, composed expression as he realized the footage wasn't clear enough to identify the person in it. Yin tilted his head slightly. "Not exactly clear, is it?" he asked, as if echoing Gerald's own thoughts.