Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young)
Chapter 389 Officer Jackson Is Dead

I nodded and got out of the car, watching Inch drive away.

The address Officer Jackson had sent was not far away, and I had originally intended to go there directly. However, just a few steps into my walk, raindrops suddenly began falling from the sky. Rain in this season was particularly cold, and getting wet could easily lead to getting sick.

I made a quick decision and took a detour to buy an umbrella before continuing toward the address Officer Jackson had given me. The address led to a quiet alleyway behind the bustling streets. As I entered the alley, I saw Officer Jackson getting out of his car and heading toward the designated meeting spot. I waved toward him, saying, "Off..."

Nonetheless, my voice was drowned out by a sudden roar, coming from a motorcycle that rushed past me. I barely had time to react when the motorcycle crashed right into Officer Jackson from behind. He had his back turned toward me, walking along the roadside with enough space for the motorcycle to pass. However, the motorcycle veered directly into him.

He was completely unprepared, and his entire body was almost crushed as he was dragged for a hundred yards, leaving a trail of blood staining the road.

I stood frozen in place, my entire body paralyzed. For a few seconds, I thought I was experiencing a hallucination.

The motorcycle sped away, leaving behind Officer Jackson lying in a pool of blood.

I rushed over, almost stumbling. The umbrella in my hand had long been blown away by the wind. I reached Officer Jackson's side, where he lay in a pool of blood. The icy rain soaked his body as he lay on his back, coughing up blood in large mouthfuls. His hands and feet were covered in blood.

"Officer Jackson, I... I'll take you to the hospital. We'll go to the hospital..." I was trembling uncontrollably. I wanted to help him, but I was afraid that moving him would worsen his pain. I fumbled for my phone, desperately trying to call for help.

He grabbed my sleeve, his eyes fixed on me, and blood continued to gush from the corners of his mouth.

Seeing that he wanted to say something, I leaned down, pressing close to his ear. Tears were streaming down uncontrollably on my face. "Officer Jackson, please speak. I'm listening. I'm right here!" He managed to open his mouth, his voice weak and strained. "Bag... the bag..."

From his fragmented words, I understood what he was trying to convey. I turned to look around and indeed spotted a soaked leather bag not far away. I crawled over and retrieved the bag. He continued to look at me, every word causing more blood to gush from his mouth. "Car... li... is..."

Spurt! Suddenly, a burst of blood sprayed out of his mouth, and his entire body seemed to have been drained of life. He slowly released his grip on my sleeve and gazed at me lifelessly.

My brain buzzed, and it took me a while to find my voice. "Officer... Officer Jackson..."

The only response I received was the drifting rain and the chilly wind.

I felt utterly lost and panicked, desperately trying to make a phone call for help. Tears, fear, and sorrow mixed together as I spoke into the phone on the other end. I had no idea what I was saying. I was just pleading for help, begging them to save Officer Jackson.

Later, more people gathered around us. Someone held an umbrella over us, and someone else called 911.

Even when we reached the hospital and Officer Jackson was rushed into the emergency room, I could not stop trembling.

It was not until a familiar yet unfamiliar man appeared before me. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at me and said in a hoarse voice, "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, gazing at his police uniform, and my voice quivered as I said, "It's murder... murder..."

The man in front of me wore a solemn expression. He guided me to sit down and looked at the leather bag I was tightly holding. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "What's in this bag?"

I loosened my grip and handed it to him, shaking my head. "I don't know."

He opened the bag, and many things inside were soaked. There was a photograph, and as I looked at it, I felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity with the person in the picture, especially the invisible malevolence emanating from him.

Suddenly, I remembered who it was and could not help but tremble, exclaiming, "It's him!"

The man next to me looked at me, furrowing his brow. "You know him?"

I remained silent, and my thoughts gradually became clearer. I also recognized the person in front of me as the man I had seen at the police station before-Gregory.

He was Renata's son.

Looking at him, I nodded after a long while. "I've seen him a few times around Charlie."

He looked at me, brow furrowing further. "Charlie, the Silvana tycoon?"

I nodded.

At that moment, the door to the emergency room opened, and both Gregory and I turned to look. A doctor approached us with a heavy and apologetic expression, saying, "I'm sorry. We did our best, but the patient suffered severe internal injuries. He had already passed away when he was brought in."

For a moment, it felt as if time had been paused. Gregory and I stood there, stunned, only hearing the doctor's helpless sigh and the fading footsteps.

He had passed away. Such a simple announcement marked the end of a life in the blink of an eye.

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