Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 277

When Scarlett asked that question, Sebastian was toweling his hair dry. The moment her words landed, the motion of his hands stilled.

Water droplets rolled down his cheek. The cool air outside the bathroom chilled them instantly, their trail down his face sharp and bracing.

Sebastian paused only briefly before resuming.

"Some."

His tone was flat, almost wooden.

That tone was rare for Sebastian. The moment Scarlett heard it, her gaze snapped away from the night view outside, locking onto him.

Her stare must have been sharp enough to draw blood. Sebastian let out a quiet sigh but didn't look away.

His freshly washed hair had stopped dripping. He moved to the bed and sat down slowly, his loosely tied robe falling open slightly to reveal his powerfully built frame.

"The government's official report on Mr. Seymour's death back then was falsified."

Though no one had mentioned this before, Scarlett had vaguely suspected as much. After all, no matter how you looked at it, this case didn't resemble the suicide the official reports claimed.

She hugged a pillow against her chest and leaned back against the headboard, quietly waiting for him to continue.

"Among the officers who handled the case back then, one became the district police chief later on—Patrick Gomez." Sebastian glanced at Scarlett. "You've dealt with him. He's the one who signed off on that Riverside project."

Scarlett blinked in surprise.

She did remember him. The district chief had been so pleasant—documents she'd expected to be held up had been signed and returned within minutes.

"He tampered with it?" Even an idiot could figure out why Sebastian was bringing him up, and Scarlett was no exception.

Her brow furrowed, her heart hammering. She'd actually thought that scumbag who covered up the truth was a good guy?

"You could put it that way, but he couldn't have done it alone." Sebastian nodded, but his brow furrowed—clearly, things weren't as simple as they appeared. "The police chief at the time helped him. They were uncle and nephew."

Scarlett pressed her lips together. She had zero patience—and even less interest—in these corrupt relatives conspiring together.

"So what's the truth they were hiding?"

She couldn't wait to know.

However, Sebastian looked at her, regret threading through his voice. "Most of the records from back then were destroyed. It's nearly impossible to confirm this was a murder."

"How is that possible?" Scarlett protested instinctively. "There had to be at least one honest cop, right? The truth has to be in the files somewhere!"

Sebastian pressed a hand against her shoulder, steadying her rising agitation. His tone remained calm. "You're right. There was someone like that."

At this, Scarlett grew even more animated. She blinked at Sebastian, the hope shining in her eyes making him reluctant to lie.

"His name was Steven Sanders. He investigated Mr. Seymour's case for three years before dying in a traffic accident." Sebastian held Scarlett's gaze. "Before he died, he uncovered a new lead—someone from the Norvayne Confederacy named Neville."

"Neville again?"

Hearing that familiar name, the words burst from Scarlett's lips.

The comment immediately grabbed Sebastian's attention. "Again?" The ease on his face vanished instantly, his eyes narrowing. "Letty, you know this person?"

Scarlett clamped her mouth shut. She couldn't throw Sylvia under the bus. She could only stammer, "No... I've just heard the name before. It's pretty common."

Neville was indeed a common name, but not so common that someone would exclaim in surprise upon hearing it twice.

She was terrible at hiding her thoughts—her flickering gaze had already betrayed her inner turmoil.

Sebastian exhaled a long breath that, despite its length, was quickly spent.

Scarlett looked at him without speaking, anxiety clouding her eyes. If Steven had died because he'd discovered Neville, then knowing about Neville herself might mean she'd follow in his footsteps.

The room fell silent.

Sebastian lifted a hand to massage his temples, his furrowed brow relaxing slightly. His tone was neutral, with just the faintest ripple of emotion. "Who told you about this?"

Scarlett opened her mouth to speak, but Sebastian cut her off, his tone cooling with an edge of warning.

"Don't hide anything from me. You know how serious this is."

At those words, whatever excuse Scarlett had been preparing evaporated. She hesitated for less than a second before the scales in her heart tipped.

"Sylvia told me."

At that name, Sebastian's expression softened somewhat, though not by much.

He made a sound of acknowledgment, paused for a moment, then continued revealing the truth from all those years ago.

"In any case, after Steven died, almost no one continued investigating the truth behind Clinton's death. For them, staying alive mattered far more than uncovering a truth they already suspected."

The words were brutal but achingly realistic.

Scarlett listened, feeling regret but no real anger toward those officers.

If Clinton weren't her father, she probably wouldn't have investigated this year-old death either.

"I know what information Chris sent you. A significant portion of those testimonies are falsified—take them with a grain of salt." Sebastian wasn't finished. He glanced at Scarlett. "Who actually did it back then? I haven't been able to find out either."

Scarlett froze. She'd assumed Chris's investigation was just missing some key evidence, not that most of it was fabricated.

Thinking of Riverside Drive, she hurried to ask, "What about that man? The taxi driver's testimony—my father made a detour on his way home to pick up some guy!"

That statement instantly snapped Sebastian's attention to her.

Shock flickered across his face. "Made a detour to pick up a man?"

Seeing his reaction, Scarlett immediately understood Sebastian didn't know about this.

And indeed, he didn't.

Sebastian immediately reached for the tablet. Scarlett didn't stop him, watching as he opened it and scrolled through Chris's files.

"A foreign man?"

Sebastian was genuinely stunned by this discovery. His brow furrowed slightly as he backed up the file and sent himself a copy.

"You're going to investigate?" Scarlett asked, watching his movements.

Sebastian nodded.

This was the first he'd heard of it. If this was true, then this foreign man was very likely Clinton's killer.

He might even be connected to that organization.

But the investigation wouldn't be easy. First, it had been so long—nearly twenty years had passed. Tracking down a foreigner's trail in Lumaria after all that time would be nearly impossible.

However, precisely because he was a foreigner, in some ways, he might have left more noticeable traces.

"How are you going to investigate? This was twenty years ago." Though Scarlett hoped Sebastian would look into it, she remained puzzled.

In her view, investigating a foreign man who'd appeared over twenty years ago—whose name and face were both unknown—was easier said than done.