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墨書 Inktalez
Jack shook his head, a hint of a sigh in his tone. "Claire, you’re a part-time photographer, right?"
Claire nodded, a touch of pride in her voice. "Yes... I’m more accustomed to conveying things through images than words..." Before she could finish, she suddenly covered her mouth, a flash of terror crossing her eyes. "Officer Jack! Oh... my God."
Claire burst into tears, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jack looked at the woman before him, bewildered by her sudden emotional outburst. He furrowed his brow, trying to understand her intentions.
Claire choked out, "May I ask... how did Mark die?"
Jack wore a helpless expression and replied coldly, "Miss Claire, I think this is a question you should ask yourself... I believe you know very well."
Claire's tears flowed even more fiercely, her body trembling slightly as she seemed unable to accept his answer. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. "No, Detective Jack, I really don’t know! I never thought about hurting Mark!"
Jack pointed to the folder on the table with a stern tone. "Claire... your camera captured several photos at the crime scene... including you and Mark. You know that you took pictures of each other during passionate moments. And just seconds before Mark died, it was clearly recorded by you. You can’t possibly be unaware of that."
Claire's eyes widened in disbelief, her voice trembling. "Officer, that’s the most impossible thing I’ve ever heard... it can’t be..."
Before she could continue her defense, Jack raised his hand to interrupt her. "We found a camera in the washing machine at the crime scene. It had been deliberately placed inside, soaked in water and agitated violently... but the memory card is intact. We just need to do some simple repairs to retrieve those photos."
Claire's face turned pale instantly, panic flashing in her eyes. Her lips trembled as she tried to find words to refute him but found herself momentarily speechless. She knew that every word Jack said left her with no room for argument; those photos would serve as direct evidence that could not be easily denied.
Jack looked at her and continued, "Claire, these photos are not just of your passionate moments with Mark; they also capture the scene just before he died. You recorded everything; perhaps at the time you thought the camera was destroyed and you could escape responsibility. But that’s not the case. These photos will reveal the truth; no matter how much you try to argue, that won’t change."
Claire's gaze became hollow as if she were pondering something deeply. She realized she could no longer hide anything. Her hands gripped the edge of the table tightly again, her knuckles turning white as tears welled up in her eyes once more.
"Detective," she finally spoke, her voice low and trembling, "I... I really don't know what to say. I never expected things to turn out like this. I truly didn't want to hurt Mark..."
Jack silently looked at Claire, her excuses and tears seeming particularly powerless in this situation. Claire sobbed, "I could never hurt Mark; he was so good to me... I'm not that cold-hearted of a person, oh... my God!" As she cried, she lowered her head, her shoulders shaking slightly.
After a moment of silence, Jack opened the folder on the desk, which contained all the evidence and information. He flipped to a photo, paused for a moment, then placed it on the table and pushed it toward Claire. In the photo, Mark sat naked in the bathtub, smiling at the camera. It was clear that this was a picture taken after an intimate moment between them in the bathroom, which was ultimately Mark's final resting place.
Claire lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the photo. Her face instantly turned pale, and a hint of fear and shock flashed in her gaze. "No, this can't be happening..." she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Jack's expression remained stern, his tone firm: "Claire, this photo proves you were indeed present on the night of the incident. You say you wouldn't hurt Mark, but all this evidence points to you. This is your last chance to come clean; perhaps you can still negotiate for a lighter sentence."
Claire stared at the photo, clutching her head with both hands, her legs instinctively stretching out to the side as her entire body radiated helplessness and despair. Her body language clearly revealed her inner turmoil and regret; perhaps at that moment of seeing the photo, she finally realized how foolish she had been to leave such damning evidence behind. However, Claire still refused to give up her excuses; her voice trembled with agitation: "No... that's impossible, Officer! I wasn't even there. Maybe someone stole my camera and took that picture... or it's an old photo; it definitely wasn't taken that day!"
Her gaze darted around as if searching for an excuse or explanation to cling to, but the fear and panic in her eyes were unmistakable. She knew how absurd her defense sounded, yet she could only grasp at that last thread of hope in an attempt to escape this predicament.
Jack looked at her coldly, his tone laced with resignation and determination: "Claire, these explanations cannot cover up the facts. The details in the photo clearly show what happened that night, and these images have been professionally verified for their time and location of capture. Continuing to deny it will only dig you deeper."
Claire's eyes grew more desperate as she tightly grasped her hair with both hands, her body trembling slightly as if unable to accept this reality. Her voice became increasingly desperate: "No... this can't be happening... Detective, you have to believe me; I really didn't do any of this!"
Jack watched her with calmness and resolve in his heart. He knew this psychological battle was nearing its end and that Claire would eventually be unable to continue hiding the truth. "Claire," he said calmly, "we have enough evidence proving you were present that night; these photos are just part of it. Your only choice now is to confess everything."
Claire shook her head repeatedly, her voice trembling yet resolute: "It's impossible; it really wasn't me!"
Jack observed her frantic denial in silence. He understood that Claire's emotional fluctuations and increasingly intense words indicated that her inner conflict and fear were gradually surfacing.
Claire then said, "Officer... can I see more photos? I... just want to know how Mark really died."
Jack sighed, struggling internally. According to protocol, it wasn't standard practice to show evidence to a suspect, but he knew this might be the key to breaking Claire's defenses. He spoke heavily, "Well... showing you this evidence isn't exactly in line with our rules, but if these photos can help you remember what you did, I'll consider it."
Claire cried out, "Please, officer, let me see!"
Seeing her in such distress, Jack realized this could be a breakthrough. He picked up the folder and turned to the next page, which contained more photos documenting the crime scene.
He placed several photos on the table facing Claire and calmly said, "These are more photos from that night, Claire. Take a good look; it might help you recall more details."
Tears streamed down Claire's face as she trembled and reached for the photos on the table. In the images, Mark's body lay quietly in the bathtub, bloodied and showing signs of a fierce struggle and pain. Claire's expression shifted from fear to despair as her fingers gently traced the photo, tears continuously falling onto it.
"No, this can't be...," she whispered, "I couldn't have done this... Mark was so good to me..."
Jack watched her quietly, knowing this was a sign that her inner defenses were beginning to crumble. He needed to remain calm and gradually guide her to reveal the truth. "Claire," he said in a soothing yet firm tone, "look at these photos and think about what happened that night. You can't possibly remember nothing at all."
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