"We're in the car. Good luck. I will be waiting for your good news."
Ferne hung up the phone and lay on his side on the bed. He looked at the person opposite him. There was a table in the middle. He could not see Noah's face. He could only see his heaving chest. His T-shirt was stretched taut by his muscles, vaguely revealing the solid body underneath.
"Are you asleep?" he asked.
"No," Noah answered.
"Randy called just now. If he wasn't busy participating in the national qualifiers, he would come over ... Just like I thought, we all felt that Vincent ... is still alive." Ferne raised his head to look outside and lowered his voice. "What I am curious about is when you discovered that he is guilty."
"From the beginning." Noah sat up, his back against the wall, "He came to the scene before the police and had enough time to do something. Of course, these are all guesses."
He slowly added, "But my intuition tells me not to trust him."