Page 74 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

A robotic vacuum cleaner bumped repeatedly into a square whiskey bottle; its wheels were stuck with toilet paper, impeding its movement.

Most of the screens and mirrors were smashed, and the furniture lay upside down.

The offensive black graffiti—“Fuck you!” and “Go and die!”—suggested Mio and Tobias had had another fight.

Every room, including Mio’s bedroom, was in ruins.

Judging from the state of the monitors around, it was impossible to find out what had happened here quickly.

Yugo found Mio’s disemboweled smartphone on his bed, loudly signaling that the brat didn’t want to be found.

“Grab the hard drives, and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Yugo ordered, leaving the room reeking of alcohol. He tried to contact Tobias but found his number unreachable.

Jittery and annoyed, he stopped in front of the gray reception desk in the anteroom. He pressed his hands against the surface, leaning over to peer into the blue eyes of Tobias’ long-legged secretary. “Show me the video of my nephew’s departure. Now. Your boss’ too.”

“I’m sorry, but—” The blonde woman swallowed the rest of her sentence as Yugo raised a palm and began a silent countdown, showing five fingers, then four. When he reached three, she gulped, and her long silvery nails flew across the keyboard.

Yugo gritted his teeth as the screen displayed two separate images. He pulled out his phone and took a snapshot of Mio leaving nearly two days ago, followed by two more snapshots of Tobias arriving and departing six hours later.

“Motherfucker…” Yugo cursed under his breath and stormed toward the elevator.

Minutes of waiting dragged like merciless sand, burying Kuon under its ponderous weight. Three hours of idle waiting and his inability to focus on anything else became a refined torture.

He constantly checked his phone for a signal, blaming the storm for the bad connection, unable to fathom why Uber hadn’t called yet.

It rarely took more than five minutes to locate a case, never hours.

Even if the districts differed, homicides fell under Uber’s jurisdiction, so it should have taken only a few clicks.

At three in the morning, the rain stopped. His anxiety reached its peak around the same time. By four, he was counting steps to calm his mind. The longer Uber didn’t call, the more agitated Kuon became. A bad premonition scraped somewhere in his ribcage, wearing him down.

When his phone vibrated, Kuon grabbed it with both hands. He swiped the green icon, leaving a smudge on the screen, then pressed the device to his ear. “Anything?”

His eagerness likely crept into his voice because Uber sighed. “Alas, the case is empty except for the victim’s statement, which is pretty useless. He didn’t see anything. By the way, how do you know it was a rifle?”

“Wait, what? Rick said so…” was the only polite reply Kuon could muster. If the case was empty, why the hell did it take hours to call back?

Uber cut in before Kuon could speak.

“The bullet never made it to the ballistics lab. I dropped by the 23rd District, but the evidence box was empty. No shell, no bullet, not even photos. No real witness. Someone found Herr Kainz on the ground and called the police, but that’s it.

Since the bullet was surgically extracted, and you say it was presumably a rifle, it should at least have been visually identified and photographed.

But there are no such records. I checked the lab; no one knew anything.

The doc at the hospital said the bullet was confiscated by the police, but the lead detectives are playing dumb. ”

“What the hell?” Kuon whispered.

“Leiris, are you sure you’re contacting the right department? Maybe the Organized Crime Unit is a better fit?”

Kuon wanted to deny the speculation, but his tongue refused to move. Even if Yugo had nothing to do with it, how could he be sure Rick wasn’t involved in something illegal for Gray? A rifle and missing evidence were too much of a coincidence.

Evidence like that never disappears unless someone powerful enough, like Gray or Yugo, wants it to.

“I’ll find out.”

“Good. I’ve alerted Internal Affairs, but don’t get your hopes up. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ended, leaving Kuon staring at the white, cracked plaster on the bare wall.

His mind whirled, urging him to drive to the crime scene, conduct his own investigation, see Rick, and ask questions.

But it was still dark outside. Even if any clues remained, they’d be flooded, and he didn’t know where to look.

Going behind Yugo’s back again could lead to misunderstandings and terrible consequences, so giving him a heads-up sounded reasonable.

He pocketed the phone, rubbed his face with both hands, and glanced out the window.

Spongy clouds crawled away, revealing a freshly washed sky and twinkling stars.

A pale lilac band stretched above the forest, heralding dawn.

Nature called to him, promising freshness, calm, and coldness—just what his inflamed mind needed.

He went to the bedroom, put on a pair of running shoes, and jogged out of the mansion. He hoped that a few miles and the night freshness would clear his mind just as it had cleansed the sky, allowing him to piece together the seemingly inconclusive evidence.

His cell phone chimed, alerting Yugo that Tobias’ phone had entered the coverage area.

His fingers instantly hit the call icon.

The car clumsily veered off the highway onto a narrow country road, jolting Yugo’s shoulder hard against the door.

He scowled, looking up to catch Greg’s eyes fixed on his own smartphone display.

Yugo glared, but Greg looked up before he could reprimand him.

The loudspeaker barked, “What?”

Yugo glared at Tobias’ name on the display. “Don’t ‘what’ me. Where are you?”

“Why, Daddy, am I late for dinner?”

Snide, lazy, and mocking, Tobias snuffed out any flimsy desire Yugo had to be polite. Through gritted teeth, Yugo squeezed out the order, “Drop by in two hours. Don’t make me wait.”

“I’m kinda busy.”

Sensing Tobias was about to drop the call and vanish again, Yugo said, “Nice job redecorating your place.”

After a moment of silence, a short laugh followed. “Oh, you appreciate it? I’ll send the designer over when I’m done with him so you can have something similar.”

“Don’t bother. It’s a tad too grungy for my taste.”

“Seriously, why waste my time if you know what this shithead did to my place? I’ll let you know when I find him.”

“It’s not just about Mio; it’s about the rifle.”

“Fuck, you’re quick.” Tobias laughed.

“Come over. Don’t make me look for you, or we won’t be talking.” Yugo hung up and turned to Greg. “How long have you known?”

“About what, Boss?” Greg’s face remained expressionless, but a slight shift in his tone betrayed discomfort.

“Mio.”

Greg confessed with a grimace, “Since yesterday. Tobias asked for help but wanted to keep it quiet. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, and it’s only been two days.”

“How sweet. Are you girls besties now?” Yugo hissed, massaging the pulsating vein in his temple with two fingers.

Greg gave him an unimpressed look, then returned his attention to the road.

“And the rifle?”

The square jaw with its five o’clock shadow shifted to the side. “Had no idea.”

Yugo turned to the window. Black, wet trees blended into the night, barely visible against the dark sky. Occasional droplets dripped from soaked foliage, hitting the window before being blown aside by the wind. He watched the shimmering trickles for a long moment before calling out, “Greg?”

“Hm?”

“If you two motherfuckers hide anything about Mio from me ever again, I’ll castrate you with pruning shears. Is that clear?”

Greg grunted and glanced at him askance, but his grin faded and he nodded. “Crystal, Boss. Sorry, Boss.”

Water squished in his running shoes as Kuon exhaled a stream of misty air, shaking off a bead of sweat that quivered on his brow.

The fresh air burned his lungs, urging him to sprint, but he forced himself to stay in the low-intensity cardio zone during a fifth lap around the mansion’s perimeter.

His T-shirt had long since soaked through and clung to his torso, but it still felt drier than his skin.

He pulled up the hem to wipe away acrid sweat just as a low rumble drifted through the woods.

His heart flipped, then tripled its rhythm.

Following the odd, sucking sensation, he doubled back, now jogging toward the mansion.

It took him a long fifteen minutes to reach the cars parked by the main entrance.

Crowded beside the giant Knight XV, Yugo’s black, nondescript car looked like a child’s toy.

He stared at it for a long moment, weighing whether to use the front entrance or back stairs to avoid an unpleasant encounter with Yugo’s business partner. But a low whimper and a tiny bark made him lean over the warm hood and peer through the windshield.

“Chaos? Wrath?” Kuon called, and the nearest puppy perked up from the slobbery steering wheel, observing him with curious, shiny eyes. “What the hell is going on?”

Gritting his teeth, Kuon stormed into the mansion.