?Chapter 392:


    The cryptic markings on the crate still left her unsure about who exactly they were pointing to, and a part of her feared Shaun might be entangled in it somehow. That fear alone was reason enough for her to go alone.


    The victim’s rtives lived in a remote vige nestled deep in the mountains.


    The taxi could only go so far up the winding path before Ste had to switch to an old, creaky three-wheeler. It jolted and bounced over rocks and tangled roots until, dazed and slightly dizzy, she finally reached the yard of the victim’s house.


    As she stood on the worn stone steps, she noticed a faint trail of smoke curling from the roof. Taking a steadying breath, she moved toward the entrance.


    “Hello? Is this Finley Hammond’s home?” she called out.


    A young woman who had been cooking outside turned sharply at the sound of her voice.


    Ste opened her mouth to say more, but the woman bolted into the house before she could get another word out.


    Ste quickly followed the woman and tried to exin, “Please, I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just want to know what really happened to Finley back then. I’m on your side. I’ve found proof of what Nixon Garrett did, and we can finally get him locked up!”


    But there was only silence in response.


    “I know you’ve kept quiet all these years because you were threatened. But I have real evidence now. If you’re willing to speak up, we can make sure Nixon pays for what he did!” She called out again, louder this time—but there was no reply.


    The silence inside was heavy and still, making her wonder if the woman she saw had even been real at all.


    When Ste turned her head, she noticed the pot on the stove still bubbling quietly.


    She let out a quiet sigh. Not wanting to be the reason someone’s meal was ruined, she walked over and picked up the spat to keep it from burning. Once she had scooped the stir-fried food onto a te, she turned back, ready to resume the conversation inside.


    But just as she turned, her breath caught—an elderly woman stood quietly behind her, hunched and still, like she had appeared out of thin air.


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    The sudden sight made Ste jump, and the te in her hands almost slipped from her grasp.


    The woman’s hair waspletely gray, and she stood still like a statue, her back slightly hunched.


    Ste took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm, then slowly stepped forward. “Hi, I promise I’m not here to bother you,” she said gently, holding out the te toward the woman.


    The woman stared at her in silence for several moments before finally taking the te and walking slowly to set it down on an old wooden table in the living room.


    The elderly woman finally spoke, her voice firm but weary. “Don’t waste your time. We’re not saying a word.”


    Still, the fact that she’d said anything at all gave Ste a sliver of hope.


    “Ma’am, please just hear me out,” Ste urged. “I understand you’ve been through a lot, but Nixon is still walking free. Don’t you want to see him pay for what he did?”


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