Bruce had a bit of fuzz stuck to his finger.
It was pale blue, extremely short and tiny—impossible to see without looking closely. But he knew exactly where it had come from. He was more familiar with it than anyone.
To protect crime scenes, police officers had to wear shoe covers. The precinct bought and issued them in bulk, so identical materials left identical traces.
The house Bruce rented was small. It took only a few steps to get from the front door to the bedroom, and he had to pass one wall along the way. He was now crouched beside that wall, staring at the fuzz in his hand, which had clearly come from police-issued shoe covers.
He stood, pushed open the bedroom door, and Gordon turned to look at him, seeming to know what he was about to say.
"Who came here?" Bruce asked.
"Ge Yin," Gordon said. "I was too worried about the Claw Killer, but she clearly made too many mistakes during the investigation and arrest. I had some advice for her."
"I don't want any more children to suffer because of this." A pained expression crossed Gordon's face. He turned away and said, "I know I promised you I wouldn't let more police officers enter your life, but this is the only exception, Bruce. The last time."
At the mention of the Claw Killer, Bruce frowned slightly. But he lowered his arm and said, "Leave police matters to the police, Jameson. You're not the Sheriff anymore."
"Of course." Gordon stared blankly at the ceiling. "I told you, this is the last time."
Bruce's gaze lingered on the radio Gordon was holding, but he quickly looked away, left the bedroom, and saw that the television was once again reporting on the Claw Killer.
The difference was