Stacey picked up the broken palm and began to look at it. Suddenly a hint of doubt flashed in her eyes.
I held my breath nervously.
The nail on my left little finger had been black since I was a child. It had been a natural condition since I was born.
However, the murderer painted my severed palms with red nail polish, which just covered up my black nails.
The assistant leaned over and saw that Stacey didn't say anything. She asked curiously.
"Miss Tucker, are there any new discoveries?"
Stacey came back to her senses from her shock. She put down the broken palm and shook her head.
"Not yet. Based on my previous experience in handling cases, the murderer usually paints the nails of the deceased or dresses the deceased up as a doll, mostly to satisfy his inner perverted desires."
What?
I sighed heavily.
Really.
Stacey didn't care about me at all.
She always ignored me.
The next day, Stacey discussed with the team members for a whole morning and decided to go to the crime scene for another inspection.
She looked around the abandoned factory, and suddenly walked to a corner and picked up a bracelet that had fallen on the ground.
The assistant walked to Stacey's side and asked curiously.