Hearing this, Levi Brooks seemed to let out a sigh of relief. A faint smile touched his lips. "Th-thank you... Please... feed... feed my cat..."
Something struck Zachary Conway’s heart, and he couldn’t help but be moved.
He hadn’t expected Levi Brooks’s greatest concern to be his cat.
’Is this what cat owners are like?’
"Don’t worry, I’ll feed him for you," Zachary Conway promised.
Levi Brooks was taken to the hospital by ambulance, while Gregory Dawson was taken to the station in a police car.
The entire way, he kept trying to figure out what had gone wrong, how Levi Brooks could have had the chance to call the police.
Henry Stark also left Eastgate Villa and returned to the station to interrogate Gregory Dawson.
"Why did you harm Levi Brooks?" The man’s gaze was like a razor’s edge, carrying an oppressive aura.
Gregory Dawson didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes. He looked down and retorted, "I didn’t harm him."
"You didn’t harm him? Then why was Levi Brooks tied to a chair and covered in injuries?"
"How should I know?" Gregory Dawson waved his hand dismissively. "Maybe he did it to himself. You know, artsy types like him can be pretty strange sometimes."
"It’s all right." Henry Stark stood up and said calmly, "You have plenty of time to think it over."
Henry Stark left the interrogation room and saw Zachary Conway holding a cat. "Levi Brooks’s cat?"
"Yeah." Zachary Conway nodded. "Renee Jennings said she has some questions for him tomorrow, so she told me to bring him along."
"Alright." Henry Stark glanced at the round-headed, roly-poly cat and chuckled. "Let’s call it a day."
**
Zephyr returned to Eastgate Villa.
"Zephyr’s back."
Renee Jennings was sitting at her vanity doing her skincare routine. She watched Zephyr in the mirror, her tone slightly teasing. "You’re back? You say that like you own the place."
"What’s wrong?" Zephyr flapped his wings and flew onto the vanity, staring at her curiously with his big, round eyes.
"Why are you staring at me?" Renee Jennings asked, raising an eyebrow.
Zephyr blinked his eyes. "Zephyr thinks you sound a little passive-aggressive."
"You even know what ’passive-aggressive’ means?" A flicker of surprise crossed Renee Jennings’s face.
"Of course," Zephyr said haughtily. "Zephyr is a well-traveled and knowledgeable falcon. You cannot imagine Zephyr’s wisdom."
Renee Jennings snorted. "I can’t be bothered to imagine. And I don’t like meddling in other people’s business."
Zephyr retorted, "If you don’t like meddling, then why do you raise so many furry kids?"
Hearing this, Renee Jennings was both exasperated and amused. "Is raising ’furry kids’ considered meddling?"
Zephyr said, full of confidence, "Of course it is! Zephyr heard other humans say so with his own ears."
Meanwhile, in a dilapidated low-rise neighborhood down the alley, the sound of dogs barking occasionally broke the silence.
A man with a knife scar on his nose sat on his balcony drinking. On the railing rested several greasy skewers of meat, wisps of steam rising from them.