Chapter 61 Something's Off with These Three

A chill ran up my spine, all the way to the top of my head.

I clutched the note tightly, my knuckles turning white from the pressure.

I could almost feel Ralph's despair lingering on the paper.

"Mr. Williams, the tech department has news. The fingerprint analysis is back," Alan said as he walked over, handing me a report.

The paper felt rough, like a coarse shroud.

"The fingerprints we found in the bathroom stall have been matched with the school's student records."

I took the report and quickly scanned through it.

Three names stood out, burning into my mind.

Eugene Bailey, Gerald Rivera, Louis Cooper.

All of them were Ralph's classmates.

They had multiple disciplinary records during their time at school.

"These three guys are definitely up to something!" Alan's teeth ground together, as if he wanted to devour them whole.

His clenched fists bulged with veins, ready to explode at any moment.

"Don't lose your cool." I placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles.

We couldn't be sure they were the culprits yet.

We needed to investigate further.

The air was thick with a sense of restless anxiety.

"Calm down. Get some people to find them and bring them to the station. Once they're in custody, come find me."

In times like these, we couldn't afford to lose our heads.

I found Ralph's homeroom teacher, a middle-aged man with glasses. At the mention of Ralph, he sighed heavily, saying that no matter how hard he worked, he couldn't cover everything.

"Ralph was a bit introverted, didn't talk much. His grades were average, not outstanding but not terrible either."

He flipped through a worn-out list, speaking slowly, his tone full of indifference and evasion. He kept his head down, eyes on the desk, avoiding eye contact. The rustling of the pages seemed to mask something.

Anger flared up inside me, but I held it back and continued, "Do you know who he was close to in class?"

The middle-aged man thought for a moment, frowning. "He didn't have any close friends. He usually kept to himself, sometimes doing homework at the back of the classroom during lunch."

It felt like swallowing a fly. I pressed on, "Did he have any conflicts with other students?"

"Not that I know of," he said ambiguously, twirling a pen in his hand, avoiding my gaze. He cleared his throat and added nonchalantly, "Students will have minor squabbles, but it shouldn't escalate to this."

His words made me even more certain he was hiding something.

I then spoke to Ralph's classmates. Their descriptions of him were similar: a quiet, solitary figure.

"He never talked to us. We don't know much about him," a girl said softly, head down, seemingly scared.

"He always kept to himself. We thought he was weird," a boy added, eyes on the floor, nervously fidgeting with his clothes.

My heart sank. These students were clearly hiding something. Their expressions were unnatural, their eyes evasive. They seemed afraid to tell the truth.

"Do you really know nothing? Was Ralph bullied at school?" I asked, my tone more forceful, scanning their faces.

They fell silent, exchanging glances as if deliberating. After a long pause, a girl finally spoke timidly, "I heard he was bullied by some boys."

"Who bullied him? Tell me!" I demanded urgently.

"It was... Eugene and his friends," she whispered, her voice growing fainter, as if afraid of being overheard.

"Eugene?" I narrowed my eyes, showing her a photo of Eugene. "These guys?"

She nodded, trembling slightly. "They... they often bullied Ralph, called him a nerd, a freak."

"They poured dirty water on him, threw his books in the trash, hit him, and took his money," another boy added.

Rage flared up inside me again. They were worse than animals!

"Why didn't you stop them?" I demanded.

The students hung their heads in silence, faces full of regret.

"We... we were scared," a girl said, tears streaming down her face. "They were so mean. We were afraid they'd come after us."

"Do you realize what you've done?" I shouted, my voice echoing in the empty classroom. "Your silence enabled the bullying. Your silence showed indifference to life. Your silence killed an innocent classmate!"

The students broke down in tears, covering their faces, unable to meet my eyes.

I looked at them, filled with disappointment. They knew the truth but chose silence. Their cowardice cost a life.

"Enough crying. Now's not the time for tears. We need to find the truth," Sophia said, approaching with a gentle tone. "Do you know where Ralph often went besides the classroom and cafeteria?"

The students thought for a moment, then shook their heads.

"He often went to the library," a boy said.

"The library?" I repeated, sensing a clue. "What did he do there?"

"Not sure. He usually sat in a corner reading or writing," the boy replied.

"Alright, let's check the library," I said, feeling that Ralph's death was more complicated than it seemed.

The library was vast, with towering bookshelves arranged like a maze.

The air was thick with the smell of old paper and a faint mustiness, creating a stifling atmosphere.

I sent Alan to check the surveillance footage for Ralph's presence while Sophia and I searched the shelves for any traces he might have left.

I went through numerous psychology books and finally reached a dimly lit corner. There, I found a heavily worn book, its pages yellowed at the edges. I opened it to find strange symbols and scribbled notes in pencil.

The symbols twisted like some bizarre creatures crawling.

The writing was messy, like the ramblings of a madman.

"Sophia, look at this," I said, pointing to the symbols.

Sophia leaned in, studying them closely, her brow furrowing.

"These symbols look like some ancient script, but I'm not sure. They resemble some cult ritual symbols."

I continued flipping through the pages, noticing that each one was marked in pencil. The markings grew denser towards the end, as if someone had been intensely studying the book, pressing so hard the pages were nearly torn.

"Could it be some kind of cult ritual?" I speculated, feeling uneasy. A sense of foreboding wrapped around me like a snake.

"I'm not sure," Sophia said, her eyes fixed on the symbols. "But these symbols definitely give off an evil vibe, like something from the depths of hell."

I took out my phone, snapped pictures of the symbols, and sent them to Nancy, hoping she could find some clues online. I silently hoped for answers.

Just then, Alan returned, holding a tablet. "Mr. Williams, we pulled the surveillance footage. Ralph did come to the library often, and he always went to this corner."

I looked at the screen, seeing Ralph's figure. He sat in the corner, engrossed in a book, looking lonely and desolate. His thin frame seemed ready to break at any moment.

His head was slightly bowed, as if hiding from something.

The area around him was empty, as if the world had abandoned him.

Watching Ralph on the screen, my heart ached. He had such a thirst for knowledge, trying so hard to live, yet faced such cruel treatment. A wave of sorrow washed over me, drowning me.

"I can't understand what gives these people the right to take someone else's life!" I muttered, clenching my fists.

"Let's go. There's nothing more here. We need to interrogate them," I said through gritted teeth.