Kevin Grant and Grace Johnson were going downstairs when Grace Johnson said, “Little Tom doesn’t agree with the matter about Zhiqiang.” The Little Tom that Grace Johnson mentioned was named Emily Tom, a broadcaster and host temporarily seconded from the city station to the county TV station. She was extremely attractive. Kevin Grant wanted Grace Johnson to act as a go-between and introduce Emily Tom to his younger brother David Grant, to see if they could become a couple.

In fact, Kevin Grant himself didn’t think it was very likely. Although his younger brother David Grant worked in the county party committee’s organization department, was a college graduate, handsome, and had excellent prospects—in Guangning, he’d be considered a top-tier eligible bachelor—after all, she was from the city, beautiful, and most likely the type who looked down on everyone. She might not even give his brother a second glance.

But Kevin Grant couldn’t withstand his brother’s constant pestering, so he agreed to ask Grace Johnson to arrange a meeting. He figured that if they hit it off, great; if not, his brother would give up.

Hearing that Emily Tom wouldn’t even agree to meet, Kevin Grant frowned and said, “So what if she’s got a pretty face and is from the city? What’s she got to be so arrogant about?”

As they were talking and walking out of the building, they saw Eric Carter and Scott Dawson just ahead of them.

Grace Johnson nudged Kevin Grant with her elbow, gestured with her mouth, and said, “That’s Eric Carter, right?” Then she raised her eyebrows, looking very disdainful. “What a character!”

Kevin Grant looked at Eric Carter’s back and a cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Chapter 003: There’s Always Someone Working Behind the Scenes for Your Fate

Eric Carter and Scott Dawson had just turned the corner after riding out of the county bureau compound when a green jeep drove past them, honking twice, making both Eric Carter and Scott Dawson feel irritated and restless.

“Old Grant is getting more and more arrogant! What’s he got to shout about? If he were on the battlefield, I guarantee he’d wet his pants!” Scott Dawson said angrily.

Eric Carter smiled and said, “Let him be arrogant, the breeze still brushes the hills.” In fact, Eric Carter had already noticed Kevin Grant and Grace Johnson walking behind them when they went downstairs.

Scott Dawson was puzzled. It seemed like Brother Eric had suddenly lost his temper, becoming calm and mild, completely different from before.

“Are we really going to John Lee’s house?” Scott Dawson asked, pedaling hard to keep up with Eric Carter’s pace. A strong wind blew right at them, filling Scott Dawson’s mouth with yellow dust. He couldn’t help but spit it out and cursed, “It’s all the dust kicked up by Old Grant’s car!”

Seeing his predicament, Eric Carter couldn’t help but laugh, chuckling twice before saying, “I want to learn more about John Lee.”

Scott Dawson didn’t understand what there was to learn about a murder suspect, but he didn’t ask further. Whatever Eric Carter said, he would do.

“Tiger, do you think John Lee is really the murderer?” Eric Carter suddenly asked in a calm tone.

Scott Dawson shook his head honestly and said, “I don’t know.”

Eric Carter nodded slightly. Yes, whether John Lee was truly the murderer—even Scott Dawson, let alone himself—no one was sure. In his previous life, John Lee would soon be sentenced to death, and after he was executed, it seemed that no similar cases ever happened again in Guangning.

But he couldn’t help but suspect that the real murderer might be someone else. Although John Lee was a butcher at a food company and fit the profile described by the task force for the dismemberment case—“all victims were women, there were signs of sexual assault, and parts of the bodies were cut into pieces and cooked; the perpetrator was cruel and had some anatomical knowledge, suspected to be a single man, possibly working as a doctor, butcher, etc.”

John Lee happened to be single and a butcher, fitting the profile. Plus, the third victim’s underwear was found in his home, and unidentified bloodstains were found in the gaps of his floor tiles. On the surface, the evidence seemed solid.

However, when John Lee was first arrested, he refused to admit to the murder no matter what. During his confession, he claimed he had stolen the victim’s underwear out of curiosity about women’s underwear. Later, for some reason, he confessed to the murder. When Eric Carter visited him a few days ago, he was dazed and confused, clearly having been tortured into confessing.

Eric Carter actually admired his past self from over twenty years ago. After all, his current self should be an uneducated brute; his knowledge was self-taught later when he went into business. But even so, he argued on the basis of reason, believing there were too many doubts in the case, and he wasn’t just making trouble for Kevin Grant.

Torture to extract confessions was almost an inevitable part of investigations back then, given the limited forensic technology. In fact, many cases were solved thanks to this ancient but brutal method.

So, although confessions obtained through torture were unreliable, that wasn’t the main reason Eric Carter doubted the case.

His past self from over twenty years ago just vaguely felt the case was closed too hastily. Now, looking at it again after being reborn, he saw even more doubts.

First, the criminal profile was unscientific—the scope was too narrow and didn’t consider the diversity of modern psychological states. Second, with the forensic methods of the time, after so many days, it was impossible to determine whether the bloodstains in John Lee’s home were human, let alone whose blood it was. Third, although the third victim’s family firmly denied she had ever lost any underwear, it couldn’t be ruled out that the victim, out of traditional thinking, simply didn’t tell her family. After all, it’s not something to be proud of—even if she had lost underwear while alive, it would be normal not to mention it at home.

Therefore, this so-called evidence couldn’t really be called evidence at all.