Chapter 193

Chapter 193. Revenge (1)

Is that so? I couldn’t tell. When I met Bradley, his hair was long and his jaw was mostly hidden behind a beard, making it impossible to clearly make out his features. But Ms. O’Brien was different. She’d spent her youth with Bradley, so she’d be able to recognize his childhood face.

“…This must be his father. Here’s his mother, sister… and is this his grandmother?”

“Have you ever met Bradley’s parents?”

I asked. Ms. O’Brien shook her head.

“No. We’ve known each other since high school, but they’d passed away before then. Bradley never liked talking about his family. I haven’t seen his sister since university either.”

“I see…”

Liam muttered in my place. “I see,” he repeated with more emphasis, his gaze fixed on one spot in the photo. Then he frowned.

“Then who is this man?”

It was a young man. If this photo truly captured Bradley’s childhood, it must have been taken at least twenty years ago, meaning the man in the photo would be middle-aged by now. He had a very strong jaw giving him a macho appearance, and looked like an outsider, resembling none of Bradley’s family members. Even in the old film photo, his striking orange hair stood out as he stared at the camera, wearing work clothes with farming tools slung across his shoulder.

“…Could he be someone from the village?”

Ms. O’Brien had lived in the village longer than us, so she might recognize him. She tilted her head while studying the man’s hair color.

“…Looks like the husband of the woman who runs the sheep farm. He’s quite influential in the village.”

We had our destination. Time to revisit the sheep farm we’d stopped by yesterday afternoon.

“But that’s strange.”

We froze at Ms. O’Brien’s sudden comment.

“…Bradley never once mentioned he was from this village.”

“What?”

“He acted like he was here for the first time. But here’s a childhood photo of him in this house with a villager…?”

Why had Bradley hidden his past? Even when his ex-spouse came to research his hometown.

I had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

We drove like mad and soon entered the village. My head was spinning as we retraced yesterday’s route.

What was Bradley thinking, hiding his hometown from Ms. O’Brien? His intentions were unclear. This was just an ordinary rural village, if a bit remote. It seemed odd that he wouldn’t mention living in his childhood home, even after moving back in.

We parked near the farm. We could see the red brick house with its gabled roof. But something immediately felt wrong. The front door had been torn off, with only fragments still hanging.

“Damn it! Already?”

Liam jumped out of the car and ran. The police followed close behind. We leaped over the broken door.

The house looked like a tornado had hit it. The woman who’d shown us the dead sheep lay unconscious, bleeding from her head. We couldn’t tell if she was still breathing because a horrific scream echoed from a room down the hallway.

With police right there, we couldn’t draw any weapons. I had no choice but to grab a shoe horn. Liam shouted as he ran toward the screams.

“Bradley Miller! Don’t move!”

When I heard that, I couldn’t believe my ears.

…Bradley Miller? We’d seen his dead body just hours ago. I couldn’t follow Liam’s logic in naming Bradley as the perpetrator.

Liam kicked the door open and took in the scene. I followed him, and we both burst into what appeared to be a study.

A large man – the same one who’d been prowling our hostel – stood with his back to the door. He held a heavy hammer and chisel in his hands. The nail’s tip had been sharpened so finely it looked like he was holding a massive needle.

Liam shouted again, so forcefully the veins in his neck stood out.

“Drop the weapons now!”

The man with faded ginger hair lay fallen, blood streaming down his cheek. He brightened at seeing the police. Bad luck for the attacker. The man ground his teeth and turned his head.

Fierce blue eyes and chestnut brown hair. Though he’d closely shaved his beard to reveal a sharp jawline and cut his long hair short, he was undoubtedly the spitting image of the child in the photo. We realized this man before us was Bradley Miller, whom we’d thought dead.

It really was Bradley Miller.

How was he alive?

“…Bradley Miller.”

“Mr. Osmond, couldn’t you just look the other way?”

Was he trying to negotiate in front of the police?

As the police behind us moved, Bradley raised his chisel threateningly, as if ready to stab at any moment.

Our priority was getting the captive out alive, so we had no choice but to stand still, unable to approach him.

“…Stay where you are. I need to finish this.”

“…Mr. Miller!”

The middle-aged man screamed again.

“Aaagh!”

“You need to stop here! Ms. O’Brien is outside right now!”

Bradley fell silent at Liam’s shout. His gaze turned to Liam. If looks could kill, Liam would have been dead instantly. But Bradley’s expression soon softened. O’Brien’s name seemed to temporarily suppress his burning hatred.

Now was our chance. We had to divert his attention somehow. Whatever had happened… murder could never be justified.

“Mr. Miller, how are you even alive?”

I asked carefully. He looked at me and heaved a deep sigh.

“…Let’s talk. Send those police officers out.”

The young officer he’d pointed at snapped.

“We could arrest you right now-”

“Then this man dies. Now that I’ve been caught, do you really think you could stop me if I decided to kill him? Surely handling hostage situations was one of the first things you learned.”

The senior detective held back the young officer. The agitated young officer glanced at us. Liam nodded once. He seemed to want to try persuading Bradley.

Finally, they withdrew to the hallway with dubious expressions, leaving us behind. I was standing half-hidden behind Liam when the middle-aged detective discreetly pressed a taser into my hand as he left. It was unthinkable for police to hand over weapons. But given the situation, they probably gave it to me, the least suspicious person, in case we needed to subdue him.

Fortunately, Bradley didn’t seem to notice this covert exchange. He spoke dryly.

“…Can’t let this bastard escape, so I’m going to do something unpleasant. Miss, you should look away.”

Before Liam could stop him, we heard the sound of breaking bones followed by screams. I turned my head slightly and closed my eyes, trying to shake the scene from my mind as quickly as possible. After a final cracking sound, the screams subsided. The middle-aged man was still alive but nearly unconscious from the unbearable pain. His ankle was twisted at an impossible angle.

“…What was so important you needed to send the police away?”

Liam spoke leisurely as he settled into the study’s armchair. What an insane detective – he must be desensitized from too much exposure to crime. He seemed to have forgotten that the person before us was actively committing a violent crime.

“Tell me how you knew it was me.”

Instead of trying to escape or negotiate, he voluntarily wanted to attend Liam’s deduction class. I couldn’t decide whether to pity this man or not.

“Well…” Liam began, casually crossing his long legs.

Ah, recording. Just in case.

“You stayed awake until Ms. O’Brien fell asleep. More precisely, you waited for her ‘to fall asleep.’ Among the medicine cabinet’s supplies, all covered in a haze of dust, only the sleeping pills showed recent use. Triazolam, wasn’t it? Prescribed under your name.”

Bradley just stared at Liam without responding. Even faced with that chilling gaze, Liam didn’t seem the least bit nervous.

“Ms. O’Brien fell asleep at six-thirty after dinner. You must have slipped the drug into something – the pre-made stew, water, somewhere. Well, that’s for the police to analyze.”

Bradley Miller smiled slightly and nodded.

“That’s right. I put it in the pre-made stew. Nicole tends to eat dinner early, so calculating when the sleeping pills would take effect, she’d fall asleep by six-thirty.”

Then he looked straight at me and added.

“I gave the rest of the medicine to the man who would be my stand-in. Mixed in water.”