Chapter 487 Blood on His Hands

Ring… Ring…

Once. Twice. Three times…

Wyatt usually picked up within three seconds if his phone was nearby.

Yunice suddenly sensed something was wrong. She quickly hurried down the steps.

From inside the Crawford residence, Owen’s voice came through in a panic. “Yunice! Yunice, help Paul! They’re really going to drown him! Yunice! Please, come!”

Without looking back, Yunice ran out of the yard. Wyatt’s car was already gone.

She scanned the area and saw Victor’s car still running. Without hesitation, she jumped in and sped away from the Crawford residence.

Inside, chaos had broken out. Elsie, Owen, and Lily were clinging to Paul, trying desperately to stop him from being dragged away.

Victor’s men and the others were in a tug-of-war, each side yanking one of Paul’s arms like they were trying to tear him in two.

Paul screamed nonstop, unable to break free from either side.

Oscar stood in the middle, glaring at the Saunders family members who were trying to help Paul. His voice was icy. “You’re still helping him?”

Owen’s forehead was bulging with veins. He shouted with everything he had. “Even if he killed someone, not even the court would sentence him to death on the spot! And you want to do it right in front of us? Are you trying to provoke the Powell family into going after us?”

If they couldn’t save Paul tonight, everyone here would be Jackson’s target.

Oscar slowly shook his head, deeply disappointed in Owen. “You’re pathetic–always putting your own safety first.”

There was no hope for someone like him to truly repent, let alone testify for Yunice and clear her name.

The struggle didn’t last long. The Saunders family was overpowered by the Crawfords, and Paul was shoved into a sack and dragged out.

Yunice didn’t care what would happen to Paul. She was already driving toward the Powell estate.

Her phone sat on the center console, and she kept checking for any message or call from Wyatt.

Nothing came.

Her unease only grew. She pulled up in front of the Powell residence and stopped the car.

Just as she was about to get out, a familiar figure appeared beneath the porch light.

He was tall, stepping out of the shadows beyond the reach of the light.

First came the outline of his frame, then his sharp, cold face, followed by his long shadow stretching across the ground.

Yunice’s hand froze on the car door.

Because someone else walked out behind Wyatt.

A woman in a leather jacket, shoulder-length straight hair, and a sharp, businesslike outfit.

It was Maine.

Wyatt walked ahead, frowning and shaking his hand.

Under the light, Yunice saw his fingers stained with blood. But from where she was, it was impossible to tell whether it was his or someone else’s.

Maine caught up and handed him a handkerchief, saying something to him.

Wyatt took it and wiped the back of his hand casually, looking visibly annoyed as he muttered something back before getting into the car.

Maine climbed into the passenger seat beside him.

Yunice’s mind swirled with confusion. She called Wyatt again.

But the call rang out with no answer.

Is his phone not with him? Or is he ignoring me on purpose?

She watched as Wyatt’s car drove off–heading in the opposite direction of the Crawford residence.

Yunice slowly lowered her hand from the door handle. She wasn’t getting out anymore.

Why didn’t Wyatt go to the Crawford residence?

Didn’t he know how important tonight was to her?

Or did he think that with Mr. Carl there, his presence didn’t matter?

Even if the outcome wouldn’t have changed, Yunice still minded that he had left her to face it alone.

She couldn’t let it go. The frustration boiled inside her. She gritted her teeth, turned the wheel, and started tailing Wyatt’s car.

I’m going to find out exactly what he’s doing.

Even at three in the morning, Silverburgh’s streets were still busy. Yunice weaved through traffic, careful not to let Wyatt spot her.

She soon noticed he was heading toward the Gardison Residence.

She knew exactly who lived there.

Her expression darkened. She turned the wheel and changed directions.

When she spotted a 24-hour pottery studio, she parked and went inside.

A few minutes later, she came back out holding something wrapped in paper.

Back in the car, she opened the navigation system’s traffic surveillance and cut through a shortcut leading directly to the route Wyatt would have to take to get to the Gardison Residence.

One hand on the wheel, the other dialing 911.

“I’d like to report something. I just saw a suspicious person at the Maple intersection. She’s carrying what looks like explosives and might be planning to use them. Please send officers immediately to check the area thoroughly.”

The dispatcher replied, “Understood. We’ve logged your report. Please leave your name and ID number for follow-up.”

Yunice gave a name and a long string of ID digits.

Except… the ID she gave was her first-generation card.

The one Elsie was using now.