You Hit My Heart by Kylie Stanford

Mr. Walsh of the Blue Maple Group was dead?

It was not known whether the deceased was the older Mr. Walsh or the younger Mr. Walsh, but a life was lost anyway.

At this moment, Joyce felt cold all over. She felt so cold that her legs were trembling. She bent down to pick up the phone that fell

to the ground, and her fingers were cold and stiff. She tried several times before she could finally pick up the phone.

She took another look at the news.

And then she thought about the phone call just now with Otis.

Otis said that the gift he had promised to her had been delivered. Did it mean that Otis killed Mr. Walsh? Yeah, there was a problem

between her and the younger Mr. Walsh, but did he have to kill him?

How could he? Depriving people of their lives at will was simply vicious, horrible and incomprehensible.

She stood in the room. Her chest felt so stuffy that she found it difficult to even breathe.

No, she must go and see for herself what was going on.

She turned her head and looked at Anderson, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed. She walked up, covered him with the quilts

and gave him another kiss on the forehead.

She just needed to know what happened and she would be back as soon as she could. It's still early, but hopefully she could make

it back before Anderson woke up.

Changing into a loose, casual dress, she put on a camel-colored coat. As she walked out of the living room, she saw Luther sleeping

on the couch when it occurred to her that Luther had slept in the living room last night and she had almost forgotten about him.

Luther was still sleeping, so she walked up and probed his forehead.

The heat was completely gone.

It was also good that Luther was home. If Anderson woke up early, he could also take care of him.

She opened the apartment door gently and closed it gently as she left, afraid to wake them up.

She then quickened her pace to the gates and stopped a cab.

"Go to Hotel Dragon," Joyce said to the driver.

"Hotel Dragon?" The driver raised his voice, "Didn't you read the morning news? There was a murder at Hotel Dragon. The police

must have arrived and the place is probably sealed off. What are you doing there? To see a dead person in the morning?"

"You park nearby and I'll walk in myself. | have something to do." Joyce didn't say much.

"Okay." The cab driver responded.

Hotel Dragon was in the downtown, not far from Blue Ocean.

Joyce flipped through the news in the car, and there were no new reports about the case.

The shorter the news, the bigger the event.

She was getting more and more anxious and she had been trembling all over. She even had goose bumps all over her body, and

her apprehensive heart was pounding.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror and turned on the heating in the car, "Miss, you look cold, so | just turned on the air

conditioning. Recently there is a big temperature difference between morning and evening, so you should wear more when you go

out."

"Thank you." Joyce said politely.

Soon, the cab driver drove the car to the vicinity of Hotel Dragon.

Joyce got out of the car and walked to Hotel Dragon. In front of the hotel, there were several police cars parked and cars from the

forensic analysis center.

Speople in police uniforms cin and out, and sofficers in white overalls were waiting at the door.

Joyce caught a glimpse of a familiar figure from far away, who was walking out from inside Hotel Dragon.

It was the younger Mr. Walsh. His right hand was wrapped in gauze. She stabbed him last time, and the wound must not have

healed.

The younger Mr. Walsh, with a disheveled, ashen face, walked out from inside Hotel Dragon and, led by two police officers, he got

into a police car.

With the whistling of police cars, they then drove away.

The fact that the younger Mr. Walsh was alive meant that the one who died was his brother.

Joyce sidled up and got in from the back door of the hotel.

Although she did not know which room the older Mr. Walsh was staying in, she quickly determined that the accident took place on

the 18th floor after she observed the staff who were coming in and out of the scene.

The police did not lock down the entire hotel, since they didn’t want to affect other customers.

Joyce pretended that she lived in Hotel Dragon, and she walked into the elevator with a natural demeanor.

It so happened that two staff members of the analysis center also walked into the elevator.

As the elevator doors closed, the two staff members began to whisper.

"It's strange. I've been doing this job for a few years now, and I've never seen something like this."

"Yes, with my intuition, it definitely looks like he was killed. The body is stiff, and he seems to die of breathing paralysis. He should

be suffocated. Like being strangled to death? But we can find no trace of him being strangled from the neck. Do you think it is

strange?"

"More than that!"

"There was almost no trauma to the whole body. Well, there is a wound on the back of his head, but it seems that he had bumped

into the corner of the bed when he fell to the ground."

"The tof death is probably around five in the morning, or maybe six. Anyway, when | got here, there was still residual heat on

the body of the deceased. Just dead not long ago."

"That's not the most critical issue."

"What is the most critical issue then?"

"To tell you the truth, I just heard the police say that they had checked the surveillance. After 12:00 last night, no one had entered

the room of the deceased."

"| feel horrible when you say that."

"The truth is just so horrible. It looks like a homicide, asphyxiation. Yet no one ever entered the deceased's room."

"You don't mean that it wasn't done by a human being? We have been doing this job for so many years, and you still believe these

unreliable theories of divine power and weirdness?"

"I don't believe it, but | have to find a reason that can convince me! Can you explain?"

"l can't. Maybe there's something else we haven't found. After all, we have only roughly examined the scene. When we return to

the center, we can run a test for the blood composition of the deceased, and then we can make a final decision."

"Hmm. Right, but | have a hunch that this is no good. Definitely we can't find anything."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's intuition, the sixth sense as a forensic scientist. | have been to all kinds of scenes, and | have seen enough cases."

"Cut the crap. You must not be heard by your boss, or you will be scolded. Our task is to take samples, and nothing beyond that. As

for the rest, we better just leave it to the professor himself."

"Hmm."

At this time, the elevator sounded a "ding".

After the two staff members left, Joyce also quietly cto the scene on the eighteenth floor.

The conversation between them just now had caught her attention.

It looked like a homicide, and he died of asphyxiation, but there were no signs of a homicide.

There was also no sign of any killer coming in or out.

In other words, it was a murder without a killer.

She could not help but think of Stephanie's death, a murder case that had never been solved.

She quickened her pace and when she cto the yellow police cordon, she bowed down and got through it and finally got to the

door of the room where Mr. Walsh died, room 1808.

The staff was busy and no one noticed her.

The room was extraordinarily quiet and was shrouded by a death-like silence.

She glanced inside the room, only to see Mr. Walsh lying on the carpet. As his face was facing outward, she could see it clearly.

She was so frightened that she took two steps backwards.

Memories that had been stashed for a long tcup like a tidal wave.

He looked exactly the sas Stephanie when she died!

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