By Zephyria 
It was three days later when Simmons contacted him. It was perfect timing, as Chrissy had been continuing various investigations based on the information he had gathered in advance.
“Can we meet right now? I’ll head over to your place.”
Hearing the detective’s voice, which sounded somewhat hurried, Chrissy replied calmly.
“I’ll be leaving work soon, so please come to my house.”
“Got it. I’ll be there around 8.”
The detective hung up the phone immediately after deciding the time on his own. Chrissy paused for a moment, then sent his address via message. Suppressing the impatience to hear what Simmons had found, he headed home and waited, having finished preparations to welcome the detective early. Arriving ten minutes earlier than the agreed time, Simmons blurted out as soon as Chrissy opened the door.
“Is this really unrelated to Anthony Smith?”
In response to the hurried, questioning tone, Chrissy deliberately calmed him down.
“Let’s go inside and talk first.”
When Chrissy pointed to a prepared chair, Simmons let out a huff of air through his nose with a scowl and sat down heavily, his footsteps thumping. Only after Chrissy sat opposite him and looked at him did the detective quickly continue.
“Hurry up and tell me. The Anthony Smith case—it’s not over yet, is it? Right?”
“What makes you think that?”
When Chrissy countered with a question instead of an answer, the detective’s jaw dropped in disbelief, and he shook his head with an absurd expression.
“Look, Chrissy. Let’s be honest now. You leaked that information to me because you had a purpose too, didn’t you? Then you should have been open from the start. Are you testing me right now, or what?”
He looked as if he were genuinely angry, but instead of soothing his mood, Chrissy brought up a different topic.
“Tell me first. What did you find that caused this reaction?”
Detective Simmons was a partner Chrissy had worked with for several years. Because he relied more on intuition than evidence, he had made mistakes several times, but everyone acknowledged his passion and conviction regarding justice, so they tended to overlook his flaws to some extent. The reason Chrissy chose Simmons among the many detectives he knew was precisely because he was well aware of those traits.
Simmons looked displeased by Chrissy’s reluctance to open up, but he eventually gave in and spoke first.
“I couldn’t meet Bahama in person. But while investigating that bastard, I found something strange.”
Having said that much, the detective carefully observed Chrissy’s face and asked his question.
“Prosecutor, did you know that the drugs that junkie was selling were reagents made by a pharmaceutical company?”
Chrissy met Detective Simmons’ sharp gaze in silence. He was satisfied that his choice had been correct—that Simmons had found the answer he wanted even without meeting Bahama directly.
“Yes, they were illegal reagents that hadn’t been officially approved. It was practically the same as conducting human experiments on the street.”
“So you did know.”
As if it were expected, Simmons threw up both hands and then dropped them. Chrissy smiled with an expression that mixed a bit of embarrassment and apology.
“I thought a detective like you would be more than capable of figuring it out on your own.”
“Thank you so much,” Simmons replied sarcastically. He glared in another direction with an angry face before refocusing on Chrissy.
“Now tell me. Let’s at least figure out what we’re doing here. That way, I can start putting a picture together.”
“This could turn out to be more dangerous than you think.”
“Do you think I’d worry about that when I make my living as a detective?”
Simmons asked back brazenly despite Chrissy’s final warning. In truth, it was a natural reaction, and Chrissy knew that this question was essentially a way for Simmons to evade responsibility.
“If you feel at any point that this is wrong, pull out immediately. I will obviously do the same.”
“I got it, so just hurry up.”
Simmons pressed him after the second warning. Chrissy fell silent, stood up, and walked toward the desk. When he brought a scrapbook and placed it on the dining table, Simmons looked down at it with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. Inside the opened scrapbook, about a dozen words he had never seen before were written.
“What is this?”
To the obvious question, Chrissy replied indifferently.
“The drugs Bahama is dealing. I received the list directly.”
“Directly… You met that bastard?”
Simmons, raising his voice belatedly, let out another sigh of disbelief. Chrissy smiled quietly and said,
“I needed to judge how far you could get on your own. Please understand.”
“Yes, of course you would.”
As Simmons sneered again, Chrissy spoke before turning the page.
“This is still just my speculation. So…”
“And it’s my job to verify if it’s true. I get it, turn the page.”
At Simmons’ response, Chrissy gave a bitter smile and turned the page. On the next page, photos and names were messily connected by straight lines indicating relationships.
“When I heard it was a pharmaceutical company’s reagent, one face immediately came to mind.”
“Jonathan Davis…!”
Simmons immediately picked up where Chrissy left off. Chrissy nodded and continued.
“Anthony said he often came to buy drugs from Bahama. He mentioned that every time he did, he asked various questions about Davis Pharmaceuticals. Bahama was just a dealer, so he probably didn’t have much information, but…”
“If Anthony was digging into it first, he might have found something important. Could that be why he suffered such a horrific death…?”
“We haven’t gone that far yet.”
Chrissy coldly cut Simmons off. In a state where there was no evidence of anything, such hasty speculation was only a hindrance. Identifying the facts came first.
“Let’s just stick to the fact that Anthony was gathering information on Davis Pharma. I think we should start by looking into Davis Pharmaceuticals.”
Chrissy then added,
“Just in case, I checked the autopsy report, and the only drugs found in Anthony were sedatives and anticonvulsants. The medical examiner said they were likely administered to make it easier to force sexual intercourse.”
“Disgusting bastards.”
Simmons gnashed his teeth. Chrissy replied, “I agree,” and added,
“Anyway, that’s the general gist of it. I’ve organized the interviews with people around Anthony Smith and the minor investigation details here, so please refer to them.”
As Simmons took the documents, Chrissy asked further.
“It bothers me that you couldn’t meet Bahama; I hope nothing went wrong?”
Simmons immediately shook his head and replied.
“Probably not. It’s normal for dealers to appear and disappear, so there’s no need to worry yet. Anyway, I’ll keep looking. He doesn’t seem very useful, but it would be troublesome if something happened.”
While skimming through the documents he received from Chrissy, Simmons suddenly posed a question.
“But why did you decide to investigate Anthony Smith again? There must be a reason you reopened a closed case.”
To the natural question, Chrissy answered honestly.
“Someone told me that Anthony Smith might not have been as innocent a victim as he seemed.”
“What a lunatic. Who is it? Who’s the bastard who spouted such mindless nonsense? If someone is a victim of a crime, they’re just a victim—what does it matter if they’re ‘innocent’ or not?”
As Simmons immediately exploded in anger and curses, Chrissy smiled in agreement.
“Exactly my thoughts.”
He continued in a calm but serious voice.
“However, I thought that if there were other secrets about Anthony Smith’s death that we didn’t know, we had to uncover them. If the reason the trial was scrapped through a plea bargain was to bury another crime…”
“I’m dying to know just how big of a secret is being hidden.”
The detective spoke with wide, eager eyes, then roughly folded the documents Chrissy gave him, stuffed them into the inner pocket of his jacket, and stood up.
“Things are about to get busy. Alright, I get it. I’ll contact you again when I find something else. What will you do now, Prosecutor?”
Chrissy stood up and replied,
“I have to do my job. And if there’s anything I can do on my end, I’ll have to do that too.”
“Good. Let’s do this.”
Simmons reached out first and shared a firm handshake with Chrissy, then hurried out of the studio just as he had arrived. Left alone, Chrissy stood dazed for a moment in the sudden silence, then eventually let out a bitter smile.
Checking the date, he realized two months had already passed since that day. Of course, there had been no contact from Nathaniel Miller, and Chrissy had not contacted him either.
Is it all ending like this?
It was the natural conclusion. It was no different from returning to the daily life he had before meeting that man. A daily routine of working until exhausted and occasionally finding a one-night stand for release.
Yes, this is for the best.
Chrissy gave a short nod. It was better for his life not to even cross paths with Nathaniel Miller. If he just lived quietly, holding his breath and returning to the work he had been doing, it would end there.
Unfortunately, however, wishes are not so easily granted.