Who else was involved in this mess, Remington couldn't say for sure. But he was convinced Jerome had to know something. After all, Lizetta went missing from the dance troupe. Remington's gaze turned icy, and as time ticked by without any leads, his restlessness and frustration grew, igniting a fire within him that only burned fiercer.

"Mr. Dashiell, I'm truly sorry about Mrs. Dashiell's disappearance. I called the cops right away and made sure everyone in the troupe cooperated with your investigation. The show almost fell apart without her. Honestly, I was hoping you could tell me where your wife has gone off to."

Jerome caught Remington's hand as it clenched his collar.

Both men appeared calm, but their arm muscles strained against each other, veins bulging on the backs of their hands.

Just as the tension was about to erupt, Ray's voice cut through, "Mr. Dashiell, a letter for you. Seems like it's from your wife."

Remington abruptly let go of Jerome and turned to take the letter from Ray. The envelope bore Remington's name, unmistakably in Lizetta's handwriting.

"The letter was in a package sent from Zion City, addressed to you. Looks like Mrs. Dashiell mailed it from there, timing it just so," Ray mentioned as Remington tore open the envelope.

The letter was brief, a few lines on a single sheet of paper, but Remington read it slowly, his eyes darkening as if stained with blood. All of a sudden, he crumpled the letter in his fist and stormed out. "Take care, Mr. Dashiell," Jerome called out nonchalantly.

Remington paused, turning back. Jerome had resumed his seat behind the desk, straightening his rumpled shirt, his voice slightly chilled.

Mrs. Dashiell left on her own accord. Next time you visit, Mr. Dashiell, I'd expect more civility. This isn't the kind of place

any part in it, I won't let it go!" Remington's eyes were icy, his presence

Jerome just offered a faint smile, "Women leave when they

as if fury brewed

scene, probably feels insecure too. Maybe you should get your own house

that, he left with his

in the car, Ray asked cautiously, "Mr. Dashiell, where to

brief letter

to Zion City," he finally said,

anymore?" Ray sounded

"She must've left Summer City by now. Any traces here have been wiped clean.

search would go on. There

Ray drove off, instructing

his hand trembling as he tried to crush it.

leaving was my decision. Please, don't

I'm just so tired, and

you've never been happy

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