Animal Whisperer: Take Back My Life and Love Chapter 101: The Hidden Trail

With those words, Jack gestured for the two officers behind him to step forward.

Nancy and Simon exchanged surprised looks. Nancy turned to Jack, wondering if his recent inquiry had already yielded concrete evidence. Simon, however, remained focused on the mud where the victim's body had been lying moments before.

Errol snapped his head up, his bloodshot eyes wide with disbelief. "I... I killed my grandfather?"

"Save the crocodile tears," Jack interrupted coldly.

He produced an evidence bag containing a sandalwood bracelet. "This belongs to you, doesn't it? The string is frayed—clearly, the victim ripped it off your wrist while he was struggling."

Errol stared at the bracelet in shock. "How did that get there?"

Jack let out a disdainful grunt. "Three days ago, you and Korbin had a massive falling out because he refused to lend you money for a dance competition."

The grandfather and grandson lived in the Lakeville Compound. Earlier that day, Jack had contacted a former student who lived in the same complex to get the full story on their frequent arguments.

"The victim was so upset by your behavior that he went to the river to clear his head. He had a personal accident policy with Glory Insurance, and just three months ago, the beneficiary was changed from your aunt to you."

Jack’s voice was steady and accusatory. "Tired of having your allowance cut off, you decided to stage an accident so you could collect the payout. You knew his usual walking route by the river, and you took your chance to push him in."

The two officers moved in and restrained Errol.

"Let go of me! I would never kill my grandfather!" Errol struggled violently. "It wasn't me! You can't take me—I have something important to do! If I'm not there, everyone's hard work will be for nothing!"

"You're a murder suspect," Jack snapped. "You really think you have time to worry about anything else?"

To Jack, Errol was just a small-time punk who hung around the wrong crowd. What could he possibly have to do that was so important?

"Wait!"

Simon finally spoke up, pointing toward the silty riverbank. "Wait, there’s something wrong with the mud around the body."

He crouched down, his fingers hovering over several distinct drag marks. "Under normal circumstances during low tide, the current carries everything downstream. But the silt around the victim shows signs of being dragged upstream."

Simon looked up, his expression grim. "The body was dumped here intentionally. This isn't the work of one person. It looks like someone used a boat to drop the body off; it only became this bloated because it was being towed through the water."

"That’s just a theory," Jack said, narrowing his eyes. "Right now, I have physical evidence and a clear motive for the person in custody. Since Officer Simon has his own ideas, feel free to pursue them yourself."

He signaled to the officers holding Errol. "I’m heading back for the interrogation. He has twenty-four hours to tell me everything I want to know."

As Jack led the suspect away, Nancy and Simon were left standing alone on the bank.

Nancy frowned, tugging at Simon’s sleeve. "It’s not dark yet. What’s our move?"

Simon squinted at the horizon. "Let's check out that rehearsal space the locals mentioned. We need to verify Errol’s alibi."

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a derelict factory. Faded safety slogans clung to the mottled walls, and the iron gates were thick with rust. Before they even reached the entrance, the thunderous pulse of music and the rhythmic scuffing of feet reached their ears.

When they pushed open the creaking gates, they found half a dozen young men with dyed hair practicing breakdance moves in the open space. The music cut out abruptly. The group turned as one, eyeing the police uniforms with immediate suspicion.

"Don't worry," Nancy said quickly. "We're just here to ask a few questions."

She briefly explained that Errol had been taken into custody. The leader of the group, a young man with bright yellow hair, slapped his thigh in frustration. "Damn it! This is a disaster!"

He paced in circles, clutching his phone, his voice trembling with anxiety. "There’s no way he killed anyone! He’s the best guy I know!" He turned to the officers. "Can Errol be out by tomorrow afternoon?"

"At the moment, he’s only being brought in for questioning," Simon replied professionally. "The bracelet, the arguments, and the insurance policy are all circumstantial. They suggest he might be a suspect, but they don't prove he's the killer. The police can only hold him for twenty-four hours. If they don't find more solid evidence by then—like an eyewitness or surveillance footage—they have to release him."

Simon patiently explained the nuance of the law to the group. "Think of it like a teacher suspecting a student of cheating. They can call you into the office to talk, but they can't hand out a punishment without proof."