Chapter 457 The Unknown Identity of Daryl
Daryl stared into Lila's eyes for a few more seconds before straightening up with a chuckle, snapping the metal cap back onto his pen. He casually closed his notebook, tapping his fingers on the bed rail, causing the tag on Edward's IV line to sway gently.
"Alright, since you're just visiting as a friend, I won't keep you any longer."
Daryl nonchalantly tucked his badge back into his jacket pocket, the scar at the corner of his eye crinkling with his smile.
"The hospital's been pretty busy lately, Miss. Be careful on your way out."
Lila's fingers paused slightly as she adjusted her glasses, her tense posture remaining unchanged. She forced a polite smile, her hair falling to cover the wary look in her eyes as she fixed her coat buttons.
"Thanks for the heads-up, Daryl."
Behind me, I heard the sound of Daryl dragging a chair, his voice deliberately louder, "Mr. Howard's awake, perfect timing. Let's talk about the shootout at the warehouse, shall we?"
The mention of the warehouse made me freeze mid-step as I returned to the room, but I quickly regained my composure.
I stared at the green lines on the monitor, feeling my heart skip a beat as Daryl sat beside Edward's bed, causing an apple to fall off the table.
The apple rolled across the beige tiles, hitting the monitor stand with a dull thud, its skin scraping against the floor, leaving marks that looked eerily like the wounds on Edward's bandaged shoulder.
Memories of last night flooded back. The acrid smell of gunpowder in the warehouse, the relentless gunfire, and Jeffrey's frantic shouts into his earpiece. "Nicholas said no survivors!"
I had desperately pulled Edward along, bullets whizzing past my ear, the heat searing my skin.
Now, the smell of disinfectant mixed with the metallic scent of blood filled my nose as Daryl bent down to pick up the apple, his fingers tracing the jagged scrape. He casually wiped the apple on his uniform before taking a bite, the juice running down his chin, staining his dark blue police uniform, which he seemed oblivious to. He wiped his mouth with a thumb that smelled of gunpowder.
"We found a figure on the surveillance near Jeffrey's company that looks a lot like Ms. Cooper."
As Daryl spoke, the apple core crunched between his teeth, the metal pen tip hovering over his notebook, a drop of ink falling and spreading on the paper.
Edward's bandaged hand twitched involuntarily, his pale throat bobbing with difficulty.
"Are you joking with us?"
Daryl's voice was raspy and low, like the sound of bandages rubbing against a wound.
"I never joke."
Daryl suddenly tossed the gnawed apple core into the trash can nine feet away with precision, the sound startling me. As he leaned forward, the outline of his gun at his waist became faintly visible through his clothes.
Edward's eyelashes trembled violently, blood seeping through the bandages, staining them a sinister pink.
"Does the wound hurt?"
Daryl asked, his fingers covered in apple residue, abruptly pulling at the bandage on Edward's shoulder.
The raw flesh was exposed to the cold air, blood beads slowly sliding down the bandage's texture.
Watching Edward's face contort in pain, my teeth chattered uncontrollably, my throat tightening.
"Does your wound hurt?"
Daryl's bandaging grew tighter, Edward's neck veins bulging. I stared at the apple juice stain on his uniform, suddenly recalling the blurry surveillance image from Jeffrey's company case file. Though the face was unclear, the suspect's uniform sleeve in the image had a similar dark stain.
"The figure in the surveillance is Ms. Cooper, right?"
Daryl's bandaging paused, the metal cufflink flashing coldly under the light. The smell of disinfectant and blood overwhelmed my senses, cold sweat running down my back, but I couldn't look away. The pressure emanating from Daryl made it clear he wouldn't stop until he got the information he wanted.
"Which precinct are you from?"
I didn't answer, fighting the nausea, pretending to ask casually.
Daryl didn't answer either, instead tightening the last loop of the bandage into Edward's bloody wound. The monitor's alarm blared sharply as he leaned over, his badge brushing against Edward's bleeding shoulder, the metal edge leaving a dark mark on the pale skin.
Sweat beads fell from Edward's eyelashes, casting broken shadows under his eyes, overlapping with last night's rain. The same pale face, the same bloodied arm, but now he lay powerless in the hospital bed. Edward's eyes struggled to meet mine, blood-tinged foam bubbling at his mouth, forming fragmented words that seemed to say "Don't be afraid."
The monitor's alarm suddenly exploded, Daryl calmly fastening the bandage knot, then abruptly tearing open the freshly bandaged wound again.
Edward's throat released a suppressed scream, his IV line shaking wildly with his body's violent movements.
Hot liquid ran down my leg, but I felt no pain. Daryl suddenly grabbed Edward's arm, pressing his injured shoulder against the sharp metal edge of the IV stand, grinding it forcefully.
"Wounds need stimulation to heal."
Daryl whispered in Edward's ear, the apple juice stain on his uniform rubbing against Edward's bleeding neck.
"I don't mind helping you remember more vividly."
Edward's neck veins strained, his throat emitting a beast-like whimper.
I suddenly became alert, the outline of Daryl's gun at his waist and his gunpowder-scented fingers now suspicious. Why was a routine inquiry so aggressive?
I lunged forward in a frenzy,
"Enough!"
I could no longer stay calm, screaming as I dug my nails into Daryl's hand.
But the difference in strength between us allowed Daryl to easily pin my wrist, his gun's cold touch pressing against my abdomen through the fabric. "Interfering with official duties, do you believe I can—"
"He's almost dead!"
"Dead is better."
Daryl shoved me away, the bandage twisting into a spiral in his fingers.
I suddenly realized that from the moment Daryl stepped into the room, every oppressive action seemed like a meticulously planned act.
The red light from the monitor flickered on Daryl's face, the murderous intent in his eyes colder than the gun barrel.
"You're not a cop."
I clutched the blood-stained bandage, stepping back, my back hitting the cold metal of the equipment cart.
"Jeffrey's company's fake accounts, the warehouse's arms, your act, isn't it time to wrap it up?"
Daryl's pupils contracted sharply, his gun already pressed against my temple.
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