Although they didn't believe it, Claire Whitmore was convinced deep down — though she wasn't entirely sure if the descriptions were exaggerated.
"By the way, Claire, where did you hear the name Alexander Hale?" Ava Monroe suddenly remembered to ask.
Claire didn't know how to answer and instead changed the subject. "Let's not talk about that for now. Based on what we found, can you dig up any more information on him?"
"Why not just go straight to this Thomas Hale guy and ask?" Ava suggested bluntly. As she spoke, she moved the mouse to open the user's profile. "Look — here's an address. Since he wrote the article, he must know something."
Claire leaned in for a look. Thomas Hale's profile picture showed a kind-faced man in his forties, smiling warmly. He looked like a decent person.
The account's listed address pointed to a villa in the luxury East City Road Hyde Hills estate — a prestigious area, home only to the wealthy and powerful.
"Is there any contact info?" Claire asked.
Ava nodded. "I can dig it up for you if you want."
"Yeah, send it to me later. Oh — and still no news on the case? The article's been out for days. No family members have come forward?" Claire suddenly thought to ask.
Ava shook her head. "Nothing."
Claire fell silent for a moment, then suddenly felt the urge to go see the remains again. As she stood, Ethan Blake got up and followed her.
When the remains were first brought in, they were wearing a suit, overcoat, and a red scarf — indicating the incident happened during winter. The forensics team had estimated the height to be around 180 cm.
Claire thought back carefully. Alexander Hale had seemed about 187 cm tall — quite tall — but even so, she still couldn't confirm whether these remains were his or not.
After lunch at the precinct, Claire decided to pay Thomas Hale a visit.
But given how strange this case was, she didn't want Ethan Blake tagging along — she didn't want him asking too many questions she couldn't even answer herself.
So she hailed a cab alone. Her own car had been rear-ended badly and was in the shop.
At 2 p.m., Claire arrived at Hyde Hills. Using the detailed address Ava had sent, she walked up to Thomas Hale's villa and rang the doorbell.
After a short wait, a middle-aged man emerged — it was the same face from the profile picture: Thomas Hale. He wore glasses too but didn't resemble Alexander Hale much.
Claire had initially wondered if Thomas Hale might be Alexander's son — but the records showed he was unmarried, so she dismissed that thought.
Thomas opened the courtyard gate and asked politely, "May I help you?"
"Hello, I'm Claire Whitmore, with the police department." She showed her badge.
Thomas glanced at it and didn't ask any further, simply inviting her inside.
Claire followed him into the main hall. After she was seated, Thomas began making tea, while Claire used the moment to quietly look around.
The villa was grand. A long staircase stretched to the upper floors like something out of a showroom — opulent and refined. She couldn't even see how many rooms there were upstairs. The polished maple floors gleamed like glass.
Yet for such a large house, Thomas appeared to be the only one living there. Claire asked, "Mr. Hale, do you live here alone?"
Thomas chuckled. Deep lines etched around his eyes. "Yes. Though this isn't actually my house — I'm just looking after it for someone."
He handed her a cup of tea. Claire accepted it with both hands. After taking a sip, she asked, "Did you hear about the incident reported in the news a few days ago?"
Thomas nodded. "Yes, I did. But it has nothing to do with me."
"Are you sure? Has anyone from the Hale family gone missing in your memory?" she pressed.
Thomas lifted his cup and took a slow sip before replying, "There was one. His name was Alexander Hale — my cousin. But he disappeared at sea."
"So you do know about Alexander Hale!" Claire said excitedly. "His stage name was Sterling Vale, right? If you know him, then you must know why all records about him have been wiped clean?"
Claire had thought finding him would finally uncover the truth. But to her surprise, Thomas shook his head and said he didn't know.
"I don't know much about my cousin. When he vanished, I was just a teenager. But before he disappeared, he asked me to take care of his house."
Claire was stunned. This place was Alexander Hale's house?
"Ms. Whitmore," Thomas said, suddenly sounding serious, "You just asked me about the case in the news — but clearly you also know about my cousin. May I ask who you really are?"
Claire looked him in the eye. "I'm a detective. That much you can trust. I came to you because I believe Alexander Hale's disappearance decades ago might be connected to the current case — and maybe even to me personally."
Thomas frowned, clearly confused.
His cousin had disappeared decades ago, and all records had been erased. No one should've known he ever existed. How did she?
Claire knew the whole thing sounded ridiculous, but she still explained everything she'd discovered last night.
When Thomas learned she had found out about Sterling Vale through a film, he wasn't too surprised — he had a few of those old DVDs himself.
What puzzled him, though, was how she knew Sterling Vale was actually Alexander Hale.
When he asked, Claire realized she couldn't avoid it anymore — so she told him what happened that morning.
She was prepared for him to think she was crazy. But when she finished, Thomas looked shocked — and said, "No wonder you looked so familiar…"
"What do you mean? You've seen me before?" she asked quickly.
Thomas stood up. "Wait a moment." He went upstairs and soon returned with a faded, old photo album.
Sitting down again, he flipped through it until he found a specific photo. "Look — isn't this you?"
Claire glanced at it — and her expression changed in an instant.
The photo was clearly decades old — black and white, full of historical weight. In it, an old upright piano stood center-stage. In front of it stood a woman in a white shirt and high-waisted work pants, her belt tightly cinched around a narrow waist. Her brows were furrowed, and she gazed off to the side, visibly worried.
Claire didn't need a closer look. It was her.
"Mr. Hale, where did you get this photo?" she asked at once.
Thomas didn't hide it. "I found it while organizing my cousin's belongings. It's very old. That piano was in his room."
For some reason, hearing him say "belongings" made Claire uncomfortable.
"Is this the only photo of me?" she asked after staring at it for a while.
Thomas flipped through the album, then shook his head. "Just this one. I've seen it many times — that's why you looked familiar earlier."
"These other photos… who are they?" Claire wanted to flip through the whole album herself, but Thomas held it close, so she didn't push.
"They're just old family photos. You're welcome to look," he said, carefully handing it to her. The book was so fragile he handled it like it might fall apart.
Claire took it with both hands and flipped through quickly. Sure enough, the entire album was filled with old photographs.
But very few featured Alexander Hale — just a few here and there. Most were strangers to her.
Looking at them gave Claire an odd sense of nostalgia, like when she was little and watched old war photos with her grandfather — the kind from the Korean War. There was a powerful historic atmosphere.
"Ms. Whitmore," Thomas suddenly said, "You mentioned that you saw my cousin after coming into contact with a photo of the two of you. Could it be that the photo sent you back in time?"
Coming from a middle-aged man, this idea almost made Claire laugh.
She barely believed it herself — and here he was, suggesting it as if it made perfect sense. He looked at her earnestly and added, "Ms. Whitmore, I don't think this is simple. My cousin's disappearance was always a mystery — and maybe it is related to you."
"You're not saying I made your cousin disappear, are you?" Claire said with an exasperated smile.
Thomas shook his head and looked her in the eyes, solemn. "No, not at all. I just mean — a lot of things back then were… unexplainable. Maybe it was fate. Ms. Whitmore, I truly believe the woman in that photo is you."