Chapter 326 Where Did They All Go
Dylan nodded and quickly sent a message to the private investigator.
The investigator had been living it up on the money he had received over the past few days. When he suddenly got Dylan's message, he merely frowned and continued chatting with the girl beside him.
But in his mind, he was already thinking about how to deceive Benjamin this time.
Although he was the private investigator Benjamin had hired, he was actually on two payrolls.
And the payment William gave him was many times more than what Benjamin paid.
After the first two times he lied—absurd lies that went against his professional ethics—the private investigator had figured out what William wanted.
He couldn't let Benjamin find Isla, but he also couldn't let him lose hope completely.
He just had to keep him hanging.
Meanwhile, Benjamin had returned home.
He had checked out of the hospital early, even though both of his attempts to find Isla had ended in failure.
Now he was back at that familiar home.
When he stood at the door, he realized he didn't have his key with him.
Even though he was the man of this house, he couldn't get in.
Benjamin stood at the door, habitually feeling the pockets of his hospital gown.
He had already checked many times—there was no way the pockets would hold anything William hadn't given him.
But he still couldn't seem to remember that.
Benjamin stared at the closed door in front of him. His hand rested on the doorknob, his eyes fixed on the keyhole.
His mind drifted back to the past.
This home, behind these walls, held so many of his memories.
He had devoted almost all his energy throughout his life to protecting the family behind these walls.
Yet in the end, he had failed to protect anything.
Just then, his neighbor Seraphine Lawson came out to throw away trash.
She saw Benjamin standing at the door and greeted him with a smile.
"Mr. Tudor, I haven't seen you in so long. Where have you been?"
Benjamin turned to look at her. The loneliness in his eyes, etched into his aged face, made Seraphine feel bad, too.
Seraphine was a straightforward, kind-hearted person. She didn't know what had happened in Benjamin's family.
But she had heard the news about his two daughters' passing away.
Seraphine walked up and said softly, "Mr. Tudor, you should accept my condolences."
"Even though the people you cared about most are gone, those who are still alive have to be brave and keep going."
Benjamin gave her a helpless, bitter smile as his response.
Seeing him standing at the door without going in, Seraphine spoke up again.
"You didn't bring your key, did you? How about this—come sit at my place for a bit."
"Then I'll help you find a locksmith."
Benjamin declined her kind invitation, but he did take down the locksmith's contact information.
He sat on the hallway floor, leaning against the wall, waiting for the locksmith to arrive.
Before long, a balding middle-aged man came up and first asked for his driver's license.
Then he asked Benjamin to prove he was the owner of this home before he would unlock the door.
But Benjamin didn't have a driver's license on him—just a phone William had given him.
Seeing that he couldn't prove his identity, the locksmith said,
"How about this—give your family a call."
"Maybe your wife, or your kids."
Benjamin slowly raised his head. He looked at the chattering locksmith, his lined face and eyes like shattered glass.
"My children are all dead."
"My wife... I can't find my wife..."
When the locksmith heard these two sentences, his previous chatter and casual attitude vanished instantly.
He stood in front of Benjamin, just a few feet between them.
But now he felt painfully awkward.
The hallway was quiet for a few seconds, then Seraphine opened her door and came out again.
She had been hearing people talking in the hallway from inside her apartment, so she came out to check out of curiosity.
When she heard that the locksmith needed a way for Benjamin to prove he was the owner,
Seraphine helpfully said, "I can vouch for him. He's my neighbor."
"He's lived here for many years."
The two went back and forth for a while, until the locksmith, unable to stand Seraphine's helpfulness and chatter any longer, finally unlocked the door for him.
Benjamin looked at Seraphine, bowed deeply to her, then pushed open the door and walked in.
Four months had changed many things.
But the arrangement of the rooms hadn't changed—compared to before his car accident, everything was still the same.
Even the flowerpot on the windowsill hadn't been moved.
Only this home was missing the most crucial thing.
Benjamin walked past his bedroom, past the living room, and past the bathroom.
The place still showed traces Isla had left behind.
The towel on the rack still had the scent of Isla's usual body wash.
But too much time had passed, and the smell had faded. The bathroom was too damp, so the towel had grown gray-black mold.
The photos on the wall and the bedside table—everything reminded him
that this home was missing three people.
He came to the living room and suddenly seemed to lose all his strength.
He leaned back on the sofa, his head tilted back, staring blankly at the chandelier overhead.
He remembered this chandelier—Isla had personally chosen it.
He remembered Isla saying this chandelier had a classical beauty.
If they installed it at home, simply looking at this chandelier would improve their mood.
Benjamin closed his eyes, feeling empty inside.
Until his phone rang. He got a call from the private investigator.
"I stayed up for many nights and drove for many days."
"I finally found a new lead."
"Get ready, I'll take you there."
Benjamin's previously limp body suddenly perked up.
He shouted into the phone, "Tell me the location and time, I'll come right away."
In the basement with the security door, Isla had been counting the days. A full seven days had passed. During that time, all she did was eat and sleep.
Apart from the butler who cleaned and brought her meals, she hadn't seen anyone else in the basement.
This abnormal situation made her increasingly certain that William was brewing some terrible plan.
She had witnessed with her own eyes how Juniper died right in front of her.
Of course, she wouldn't believe that William would let her off easy.
"William, what exactly do you want to do?"
"What plan do you have?"
She looked at the specimen made from Juniper's bones beside the cage and talked to herself.
She couldn't stand this unknown pressure.
She suddenly seemed to snap, grabbing the iron cage with both hands and shaking it frantically, making the iron frame creak and groan.
"Is anyone there? Is anyone outside? Can anyone hear me?"
"William, get out of here! What are you plotting? Come out and face me!"
"Where did you all go?"
William sat in his office, a cup of coffee still steaming on his desk. His eyes were fixed on the monitor screen, the corners of his mouth gradually curling up.
"Lost your patience already?"