I Own a Psychic Detective Agency

I make a living solving cold cases, earning just enough to get by.

Until I saw my long-time crush on the latest corpse.

He used to be an unreachable light, but now he's the deepest darkness before my eyes.

At this moment, he stands across from me, eyes full of innocence, asking for my help, saying he loves me.

Should I arrest him, or trust him?

"Jennifer, there's a tricky murder case. We'd like you to come take a look as our special consultant."

When Police Captain Charles Peters called, I was being cornered at my detective agency door by Alex.

He was holding breakfast from my favorite place, smiling, "Miss Bates, may I invite you to breakfast?"

Sunlight fell on his straight nose, outlining his perfect profile.

This was the fourteenth day of him pursuing me, and my heart, frozen for years, seemed to be truly melting.

I was about to nod when the voice on the phone pulled me back to reality.

"Okay, I'll be right there."

I hung up and gave him an apologetic smile, "Work."

The light in Alex's eyes dimmed, but he still pressed the breakfast into my hands, "Stay safe."

I rushed to the scene. A body covered with a white sheet lay quietly in the freezer.

Charles handed me an evidence bag containing a broken pearl necklace.

"The victim's name is Vera Metz. Time of death was about half a month ago."

My brain stopped working. The necklace slipped from my hand.

"Who did you say?"

"Vera, your college classmate." Charles looked at me. "You know her, right?"

She was Alex's ex-girlfriend, the campus beauty back then, the only person who could walk alongside him.

Not long ago, I had carefully asked Alex about her.

His expression instantly became uncomfortable, then shifted to a relaxed smile, "We broke up long ago, a long time ago. I'm single now."

The hint in his words was too obvious, making my heart race.

And now, his long-ago ex-girlfriend had become a cold corpse.

The body in the freezer was very well preserved.

But even the most beautiful face had lost its color.

I closed my eyes, trembling as I bent down, held her stiff, cold hand, and pressed a cold kiss on the back of her hand.

Instantly, the world spun.

In the darkness, a man's hands gripped Vera's throat tightly.

Her beautiful face turned purple, her eyes bulged, her struggling hands clawing at the air.

The killer's face was covered. He said nothing, only tightened his grip.

I couldn't see the killer's face, only those hands and a blurry figure.

Well-defined knuckles, very beautiful. The left hand was wearing a Northwestern University commemorative watch.

On the back of the right hand, a black mole was exceptionally clear.

The vision disappeared. I gasped for air, drenched in cold sweat.

Northwestern University, my alma mater.

Those hands... why did they look so much like his...

Suddenly, a shrill female voice exploded in my ear, "What are you doing here? Jennifer, you jinx! Did you kill Vera?"

It was Vera's best friend, Grace Roberts, the one who had reported the case.

Her eyes were bloodshot, pointing at my nose, and cursing.

"A poor, useless woman like you. I heard you've been close to Alex lately. Did you kill Vera out of jealousy? Trying to have Alex all to yourself!"

Her words were vicious. The young officers around us looked at me strangely.

I looked at her and said coldly, "Are you filing a report or playing the shrew? Every word you say now could become your testimony."

Grace froze, then lunged at me even more frantically, "How dare you insult me! You murderer!"

Charles reached out to stop her, his voice stern, "Miss Roberts, please calm down. Miss Bates is a police consultant."

"What consultant!" Grace wouldn't let up. "She's a freak! She was weird in college! Vera said she must be sick! Captain Peters, I'm telling you, Vera and Alex were about to get married! They were so in love. Wholse could it be but this psycho woman, killing out of twisted love?"

I ignored her shouting and walked straight to Charles.

"The killer wore a hat and mask, very tall, very thin. There's a black mole on the back of the right hand."

I don't know why, but I instinctively didn't mention the clue about the Northwestern University connection.

Maybe I was also worried about the worst possible outcome.

Charles looked at me without immediately responding.

Just then, urgent footsteps suddenly echoed from the hallway.

I instinctively turned around.

Alex burst into my line of sight.

The man who usually smoothed out every wrinkle in his shirt now looked like a soul-lost madman.

He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the police line.

That face, usually so composed and elegant, had lost all color.

"Vera..."

He tried to rush in but was blocked by the yellow barrier tape.

He gripped the tape with both hands, so hard his knuckles turned white.

Eyes red, he stared straight at the white sheet.

As if in that instant, his world had collapsed.

That shock, that grief, so real it was frightening.

But I looked at his hands.

On the left hand, the exact same watch.

On the right hand, a thick plaster cast.