Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

When Curtis saw the message, it was 3:10 AM.

The night was silent, with a lamp still burning in the living room of his penthouse. On the sleek and stainless steel coffee table, documents and case files were scattered, dust from two decades undisturbed until now.

The crime scene photos showed an abandoned and cluttered storage room, the victim's body clear in the grisly aftermath.

Rose had been a true beauty. Her daughter, Leanne, inherited her looks. But Rose's elegant face, so similar to Leanne's, appeared in the photo with the pallor and rigidity of death, giving off an eerie vibe that was worlds apart from the vibrant person he remembered.

The witness statement was in Curtis' hands. It was a record of six-year-old Leanne sitting in a police station, recounting her story to an officer.

"...It was so dark, and the factory was so big, I couldn't find my way. I missed my mom and dad so much. I saw them lying there, covered in so much blood. Mom's hand was so cold, and it felt so stiff. Dad always said to find the police, but it was too dark, and I was so scared. I walked for a long time until the sun came up..."

The statements were handwritten, the officer's scribbling worse than a rushed note. Curtis struggled through the messy lines, unable to fully grasp the terror little Leanne must have felt witnessing her parents' demise.

How frightened she must have been when her parents turned into such a horrifying sight.

alone she must have felt when

resting his forehead in his hands, alone in

a message from Leanne, "When are you

you

but decided against

late these days, not even drinking the lemonade I've been making...

to keep her company," Curtis

in the bedroom," Laura replied. "She's worried you'll be allergic when

Curtis, leaving

hung up and slumped back on the

about a seemingly straightforward kidnapping case, a

Vista,

with the tragedy that befell the

Vista Bank with such ambition

did Charles suddenly suffer a heart