Chapter 18 Death Draws Near!

George Stacy stood in front of a house.

The house before him was dilapidated, with broken shutters, and vines crawling up the walls for twenty or thirty years, nearly tearing the walls apart.

Even in the rundown area of Brooklyn, such dilapidated houses were not common.

A gust of wind blew, lifting the fallen leaves on the door curtain, and the tangled wind chimes made a disordered sound.

"Is this Frank Grayson's residence?" George asked one of the officers beside him.

"Yes, it is."

It had been three days since the murder of Josh Roberts.

The New York Police Department began investigating individuals connected to the victim, including his parents, friends, and anyone who had conflicts with him.

Frank Grayson was a student who had been bullied by Josh before.

He hadn't shown up at school for two days, so George brought the officers to his home for investigation.

The police rang the doorbell, but no one came to answer after waiting for a while.

George waited outside for a while, but there was no sound from inside the house.

Standing at the door, he glanced inside.

The furniture inside was neatly arranged, covered in a thin layer of dust, as if it had been uninhabited for a long time.

He tried to push the door, but it didn't budge.

They had to contact the owner of the house to get the keys to enter.

The Graysons were renting this place and were not the real owners.

With the help of the landlord, George Stacy and the officers entered the room.

As soon as they entered, they smelled a peculiar odor.

It was like the smell of moldy things, or the smell of a body decaying from bacterial growth for a long time.

This smell couldn't be accurately described, but for George Stacy, it was a completely stagnant and strange odor.

He immediately had a bad feeling, his muscles tensed, and his expression became serious.

He briefly searched the living room but found nothing.

Before coming here, he had looked up information about this family.

The man's name was John, and the woman's name was Maggie. They had been divorced for six months.

Frank Grayson was their son, a high school student at Midtown High School, who lived with his father John at this address.

And John was not a reputable person, often hanging out in Hell's Kitchen, as a member of the Hand.

"It seems that no matter what I do recently, I always encounter something related to the hand."

George muttered to himself with a sigh as he observed his surroundings.

Finding nothing on the ground floor, he decided to go upstairs.

He walked up the carpeted stairs and soon smelled a stronger odor.

He called for the officers downstairs, and they followed the scent to its source.

Finally, they entered a room sealed off by curtains.

Inside the room, there was a strange, putrid smell, so strong it almost made them vomit.

Numerous glass cabinets were placed inside, containing motionless spiders.

"South American Bird-Eating Spider, Mexican Redknee, Chilean Rose."

George Stacy quickly identified the breeds of these pet spiders.

He had never imagined that someone would keep so many spiders in their room.

But all these spiders were now dead.

Taking his gaze away from the spiders, George's eyes scanned the room.

Soon, he noticed a faint figure behind the curtains hanging in the corner of the room.

Drawing his gun, he signaled for caution.

George Stacy cautiously approached and aimed his gun at the shadowy figure behind the curtains.

After preparing himself, he ordered his men to uncover the curtains.

"Swish!"

The curtains were suddenly pulled back, and the figure behind them fell towards the officers.

Startled, the officers quickly stepped aside.

"Thud!"

The figure fell heavily to the ground.

Seeing what had fallen, George and the nearby officers all gasped in shock.

It was a cocoon identical to the one found in the storage room at Midtown High School.

It seemed to contain something inside.

"Curses!"

George cursed under his breath and instructed the officers to cut open the cocoon with a knife.

Inside the cocoon, a pale and terrifying face appeared before them.

This face looked like that of the homeowner, John.

The manner of death and the way the body was wrapped in a cocoon were exactly the same as what they found at Midtown High School.

George Stacy, who had already had a vague idea, ordered, "Immediately call the medical examiner and more reinforcements, and search the entire city for Frank Grayson."

The prime suspect now was Frank Grayson.

Although the way he killed his own father and wrapped him up was extremely cruel and bizarre, George had seen enough of human evil and cruelty in his career as a cop to always consider the worst-case scenario.

Covering his nose and mouth, he breathed out a sigh and walked out of the room.

At the desk near the door, a photo caught his attention.

Picking up the photo, he froze in place.

The person in the photo was his daughter, Gwen Stacy!

This Frank Grayson was a classmate of Gwen's, and he had a photo of her.

Clearly, this guy had ill intentions toward his daughter.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

Taking out his phone, he quickly dialed Gwen's number.

Midtown High School.

The postponed football game was held today.

The school playground was crowded with people.

The students seemed to have forgotten about Josh's death and were enjoying the festivities.

The game had not yet begun, and the playground was filled with noisy laughter and screams.

Bonfires were lit, flags were waved, and shouts of "Go Sharks!" echoed across the field.

Male students chanting "Go Sharks!" waved flags as they ran around the playground.

The members of the cheerleading squad performed enthusiastically, showing off their fair thighs to the delight of the students.

The air was filled with the hormones of revelry, and girls in tight sports bras moved around, their clothes rustling.

Gwen sat in the stands, scanning the surrounding seats, but didn't see Peter's figure, feeling a bit disappointed.

Her phone lit up in her pocket, but she didn't notice as her phone was set to silent, and the surroundings were too noisy.

"Boom!"

A firework burst in the sky, and under the dazzling light, Frank Grayson, the one the police were looking for, stood at the entrance of the playground.

With his messy brown hair and a cold, sinister look in his eyes, Frank walked towards the game area.

...