Nate was in his forties, and staying up late felt like getting punched twice.
He wasn't God; two punches could knock him down, so once he finished his work in stages, he took the initiative to come back.
The car came to a steady stop on the driveway of his house. Although he had a garage, he had to go to the police station early in the morning, so he was too lazy to park inside.
Besides, opening the shutter door would make a sound, his family should all be resting, so he parked by the roadside.
After getting out of the car, he took out his keys, aiming them at the keyhole about a dozen steps away as he walked towards the front door, just like he did countless times before.
As he approached the door, the overhead light would automatically turn on—
There was a rug in front of the door, stretching from the door down the steps to the ground, extending about a meter or more on the ground.
