After washing the cloth, he turned back to Chloe Fairchild.
Her face was delicate. Her eyeliner was drawn perfectly, her lipstick applied just right, but her fair cheeks were stained red with blood.
He wiped it numbly.
Once, twice, three times, as if he had lost his soul.
He didn't know what he was thinking—or rather, he wasn't thinking at all.
He just wanted them to be clean when they left.
As he wiped, his hand suddenly froze.
Chloe Fairchild's pants pocket was bulging, as if something was stuffed inside.
He reached in and pulled it out to see.
It was a pack of Mint Cigarettes. It was crushed and wrinkled, with bloodstains on the box.
Beneath the pack of cigarettes was a lighter.
It was small and exquisite, made of a white, jade-like material, and it gave off a gentle luster in the night.
Zane Patterson's hands began to tremble again as he held the cigarette pack and lighter.
