An hour ago.
A black Honda drove into a high-end neighborhood, traveled a bit along the community road, turned on the right signal, and stopped near a luxurious villa.
The car window on the right side rolled down, and inside the driver's seat sat a Black man—it was Filippo Carter, the lover of the first victim, Grace Bloomberg, and a witness to the case.
Filippo Carter stared at the villa across the street, his expression changing unpredictably, his thoughts unknown.
After waiting for about half an hour, the door of the villa opened, and a fashionably dressed, forty-something white woman walked out of the villa with a handbag.
Filippo Carter got out of the car, flipped over the fence, startling the white woman walking toward the garage. She took a few steps back.
"Filippo Carter, why are you here?"
Filippo Carter snorted, "Good morning, Ms. Salas, it's really not easy to see you.
Used to call me your little baby, now you're addressing me by my full name?"
