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Chapter 61: Love Me - Let Me Go
Colleagues from the Special Investigations Unit arrived swiftly and seized the pharmacy's prescription records and ledgers.
The Texas Narcotics Commission showed up late but eventually raided Mary's residence.
Having gained law enforcement authority only this year, their on-site operations were painfully clumsy. An entire action team spent considerable time planning around an empty house, yet no one had the nerve to go inside.
Bernie couldn't stand watching the amateur hour any longer. He walked over, helped them kick the door open, then gestured impatiently for them to enter.
The action team filed in awkwardly and quickly discovered a substantial quantity of barbiturates inside.
Barbiturates, particularly 'Red Devils', possessed powerful sedative effects and ranked among the most commonly abused drugs.
When crushed and mixed into drinks, they could induce a euphoric, disinhibited state similar to alcohol intoxication, making them popular with young party-goers.
Bernie then led them to apprehend Mary.
The action team, mimicking his earlier demonstration, kicked open another door and swarmed inside, haphazardly restraining Mary, who had been peacefully watching television on her sofa.
Bernie covered his face in embarrassment, wondering who had been responsible for training these people.
Mary turned out to be just an accidental discovery; she wasn't the person they were seeking.
She had a solid alibi for the time of the victim's death.
They hitched a ride with the Special Investigations Unit and reviewed prescription purchase records from the remaining pharmacies, but still found no purchase records bearing Cynthia's name.
It seemed they had come full circle.
Had Cynthia intentionally ignored her husband's desperate pleas for help, or had she truly been too exhausted to hear him calling out?
Theodore believed Cynthia herself would provide the answer.
Bernie expressed his confusion, but Theodore did not explain.
The two men returned to the Moore house and knocked on the door.
The door opened to reveal Cynthia still wearing her white floral dress, clutching a crucifix tightly in her hand.
Upon seeing them, she released a long, shuddering breath, kissed the crucifix, then set it down carefully and stepped out of the house.
"I killed David," she said simply.
Bernie stared at her in shock, then slowly turned his gaze to Theodore.
In that moment, all the Star News stories he'd read came flooding back: the Son of the Devil, Lucifer, stealing souls...
Theodore waited patiently, but when he saw Bernie continue to stare at him in stunned silence, he had no choice but to retrieve his handcuffs and place them on Cynthia.
She was unusually cooperative throughout the process.
Even after processing Cynthia's arrest and escorting her into the interrogation room, Bernie remained silent, his intense stare never leaving Theodore.
Theodore signed the arrest record and pulled his partner toward Wenner's office.
The nature of their case had undergone a fundamental change.
Before, it had been Bernie's suspicion of possible homicide. Now they had someone voluntarily confessing to murder. This meant they had to treat it as an active murder case.
Fortunately, the most challenging part was behind them. As long as they could clarify the details of the crime during interrogation, the rest would be routine paperwork.
Wenner authorised the two men to conduct the interrogation and, given the apparent simplicity of the case, decided not to mobilise the entire team.
Emerging from Wenner's office, Theodore waved his hand in front of Bernie's face. "Are you alright?"
Bernie slapped his hand away, his tone complex with conflicted emotions. "You still claim you're not communicating with ghosts."
Theodore silently shook his head and explained his reasoning to Bernie. "Whether Cynthia Moore deliberately ignored her husband's calls or truly fell asleep from exhaustion, she feels tremendous guilt about his death."
"Isn't that exactly why you suspected her in the first place?"
"This guilt compels her to tell the truth. Even if not today, then eventually."
Seeing Bernie's still-confused expression, Theodore said no more. "Come on. Let's go meet our real 'murderer.'"
Inside the interrogation room, Cynthia Moore's questioning proceeded so smoothly that Bernie began to question reality itself. She answered virtually every question without hesitation.
David Moore had never been able to accept the reality of his paralysis. As the months stretched into years, his temperament became increasingly volatile, leading to frequent episodes of yelling and striking Cynthia.
This situation had improved somewhat after little Donald was born.
During that precious period, David Moore seemed to transform back into the good husband who used to sweat profusely on the oil derrick and provide her with strong, protective embraces.
Two years ago, David had undergone debridement surgery. Their family had struggled tremendously during that period.
She'd borrowed money from unsavoury sources to pay for his operation, and to repay the debt, she'd worked almost around the clock with barely any rest.
After the surgery, David Moore had suddenly reverted to being the same perverse and irritable patient as before.
He would scream at her, calling her a prostitute, a whore, mocking her for rising early and staying up late to stand on Rose Street like a common streetwalker.
He'd also begun losing his temper with little Donald, frightening the boy so badly that the child never dared approach his father again.
This nightmarish situation had continued until January of this year.
Then David Moore had inexplicably returned to being a loving husband.
He'd asked her to move into his room to sleep beside him, and to allow her more rest, he would try to hold his bodily functions, enduring the pain in silence.
Every day, he would reminisce about their early days together, showing her genuine care and sharing jokes he'd heard on the radio.
In March, he'd begun showing obvious symptoms of respiratory failure and required oxygen assistance at night.
One night in April, she'd been awakened by David's agonised groans. When she'd moved to help him with the oxygen, he'd stopped her.
"He grabbed my hand and said to me, 'Don't... let me go.'"
"He said he should have died in that accident seventeen years ago. That way, he wouldn't have had to drag me down with him."
"He said he was in too much pain... that it was time to let him go."
"He begged me not to interfere."
Cynthia recounted the events with remarkable calm, though tears were already streaming down her face.
Bernie handed her a tissue. After accepting it gratefully, she continued answering his gentle question: "So that's what you two were arguing about during that time?"
Cynthia nodded silently.
Theodore leaned forward slightly. "If the victim truly wished for release, why didn't he seek assistance from Dr. Martinez?"
Bernie quietly reminded Theodore that the Moores were devout Christians.
To them, suicide represented one of the gravest sins imaginable.
"He wanted Donald to remember that his father wasn't a coward," Cynthia added softly. "He didn't beg for mercy; circumstances beyond his control simply struck him down."
"But he was begging for mercy," Theodore said with unfortunate bluntness, then pressed on: "So he asked you to help him commit 'suicide'?"
Cynthia's voice grew firm. "No. He didn't commit suicide."
"What about you?" Bernie couldn't help but interject. "You committed murder."
Cynthia lowered her head, gently turning the ring on her finger, a simple, plain band without gems or decoration of any kind.
"That night, he started hurting again. I increased his pain medication to three times the usual dosage, but he was still crying out in agony."
"Watching him suffer like that, I knew it was time. I couldn't keep him here any longer."
"I went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, full blast. Even then, I could still hear his groans through the rushing water. I buried my head under the stream, waiting and waiting and waiting. Finally, his cries for help stopped."
"I wrapped myself in a towel and went to check on him. He was already gone."
Cynthia Moore delivered this confession through streaming tears.
Bernie's expression remained complex as he continuously pulled tissues from the box and handed them to her with quiet compassion.
At this point, the case could practically be considered closed.
Cynthia had admitted to the crime and provided a detailed account of the events, complete with a clear explanation of the motive. All the necessary elements were present and accounted for.
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