Chapter 49 The Puzzling Death

The next day.
Near the Sm威尔 River (Note: Smowell River).
Officer Lane stood by the withered marigolds on the bank, lighting cigarettes one after another.
Just one more cigarette, he hoped, would cure the heavy, constricted feeling in his chest and make breathing a little easier.
Yet, until he finished the very last cigarette, the oppression in his chest had not eased by even a fraction.
Shaking his head, he tossed away the cigarette butt and walked over to the coroner, who was examining a corpse.
A body lay in the grass, its features twisted in a bizarre contortion.
The skin was dry, cracked, and aged, resembling the remains of someone on the very brink of death.
"Have you figured out the victim's identity?"
Lane asked his assistant.
"Preliminary identification indicates the victim is Don Haggerty, twelve years old."
"Twelve years old?"
Lane looked down at the withered, shriveled corpse in disbelief. "How is that possible?"
His assistant handed him an evidence bag. "This is the ring found on the victim. We had people close to him identify it, and they confirmed it is the ring Don Haggerty always wore."
Lane stared at the prominent initials "D.B." engraved on the ring, a profound shock washing over him.
"Impossible!"
He squatted down, gazing closely at the grotesque corpse.
"It looks as if his entire body was sucked dry."
A sudden thought flashed through his mind—could vampires actually exist?
No, impossible!
Shaking his head, he cast the absurd notion out of his mind and asked his assistant, "Who was the last person the victim came into contact with?"
"According to several of his classmates, after they had a confrontation with Clark Kent, the victim rode his bicycle home alone."
"Who?"
Hearing Clark's name, Lane paused for a moment. "You said Clark Kent, Peter Patrick's godson?"
"Yes."
Was it Peter Patrick again?
Muttering Peter's name under his breath, Lane furrowed his brows.

At that moment, Clark had no idea that Don Haggerty, the boy he had clashed with yesterday, was already dead.
He was at the Patrick Farm, doing chores to earn some pocket money.

Homelander was holding a flyer he had picked up from somewhere, angrily crumpling it into a ball and throwing it on the ground.
Surprised, Clark put down his pitchfork and picked up the flyer.
It was a Christian tract disguised as a dollar bill.
Printed on it was a short story warning young people not to waste their lives on worldly distractions.
It claimed that playing video games like Dungeons and Dragons was akin to clinging to the devil's teat and suckling the milk of hell.
With a slightly unnatural expression, Clark tossed the flyer aside.
He knew why Homelander was angry.
He had probably thought it was a real banknote, eagerly picked it up, only to realize he had been fooled.
Homelander was quite fond of money and would go to any lengths to make a buck.
"I certainly don't believe this rubbish."
Homelander set the lawnmower aside and said with some frustration, "Dad said he doesn't want us to become gods to be worshipped or hated. I hate gods!"
Clark's father, Jonathan, was a Christian, so Clark didn't particularly dislike religion. "God blesses every believer, you know."
Homelander used Peter's words to shut Clark down. "Dad said: Christians always talk about there being 144,000 seats in heaven, yet billions of people have died on God's green earth, and He supposedly only likes 144,000 of them. God might just be a total idiot."
Hearing Homelander's "blasphemous" words, Clark fell silent.
Though he desperately wanted to refute him, he couldn't find a suitable argument.
"Well, Godfather's words always carry some truth."
Muttering to himself, he was just about to get back to work when he noticed a police car driving into the farm, closely followed by his own parents' vehicle.
Stopping what he was doing, he scratched his head in confusion, wondering what had happened.

A few minutes later, Clark and Homelander stood nervously beside Peter.
Jonathan and Martha sat nearby with solemn expressions on their faces.
The police had left after asking just a few questions, but Jonathan and Martha had been plunged into profound shock.
If the police hadn't shown up at their door, they would never have known that Clark had gotten into a fight yesterday.
Martha asked Peter, "Peter, you knew about this, didn't you?"
She felt a twinge of jealousy. Not only did her son spend every day at Peter's place, but he also kept secrets from her, preferring to confide in Peter instead.
"Yes, I knew, but I didn't think it was a big deal. Clark didn't fight back."
Peter cast a reassuring glance at the uneasy Clark.
"But... Don Haggerty is dead!"
"It was merely an accident, and it has nothing to do with Clark."
Calmly, Peter poured coffee into Martha's cup. "We can't blame Clark for the consequences of an accident, can we?"

"I... I'm not blaming Clark. I just think..."
Martha looked at Clark and said helplessly, "Clark, you should have told us about this."
"I'm sorry, Mom, Dad."
Clark apologized to Martha and Jonathan.
Jonathan was rather understanding; he reached out and ruffled Clark's hair. "Did they hurt you, Clark?"
"No, Dad."
"Hm, you didn't fight back, did you?"
"No, but I really wanted to hit those kids. Hit them hard."
Hearing his son say this, Martha immediately intervened, "Hey, Clark!"
"It's alright, Clark. I wanted to hit them too, and I even wanted to encourage you to fight back. Would that have made you feel better?"
Jonathan comforted Clark, saying, "But you didn't do it, did you?"
"No, I know, Dad. I know you told me to exercise restraint."
Clark repeated to Martha and Jonathan what his godfather had told him yesterday.
After listening, the couple exchanged glances.
Jonathan looked at Peter with deep gratitude.
Although he hadn't always agreed with the educational philosophies of Peter, whom he considered a brother, he knew that Peter always understood and supported him.
That was why he trusted Peter and had always allowed Clark to stay here.

After Jonathan and Martha left, Homelander asked Peter suspiciously, "Dad, is Don Haggerty really dead?"
He had been planning to beat that guy up himself, never expecting the fellow to just drop dead like that.
Peter had already received a phone call from Chandler, informing him of Don Haggerty's cause of death and the crime scene details.
"Yes, Don Haggerty is dead."
"But... why? Dad, what happened?"
Ears perked up, Clark also hurried over.
Although he had wanted to teach Don Haggerty a lesson yesterday, he still felt a heavy burden regarding the boy's death.
"I don't know. Perhaps it was just an accident."
Despite his casual words, Peter's expression grew grave.
What kind of creature could turn a living, breathing body into a dried-up husk?