Many years ago

Chapter 210 Many years ago

The following morning, as the sunlight dispelled the chill of the early morning, Qin Jin dialed Catherine's number.

"How's the situation?" he asked bluntly.

"I got the phone. My colleagues in the Technology Support Division worked all night," Catherine's voice was hoarse from staying up all night. "I'm keeping an eye on it now, but—there's a little trouble."

"Um?"

"Through the selfies on the two phones, we've confirmed that there are 11 other passengers in the carriage besides Sheila and Danielle. We've already matched the identities of 9 of them against the database, but—"

One can imagine that when she got to this point, Catherine must have shrugged, her face full of helplessness: "—The last two were indeed impossible to find. One was a homeless man who kept his head down and ate his food. He only sat for one stop. The other was always facing away from the camera, so his face was not visible."

"Wait for me."

Qin Jin immediately drove to the Technical and Support Division of the Canyon Branch. As soon as he opened the door, a strong smell of coffee and the fatigue from staying up all night hit him.

Several technicians greeted Qin Jin while sipping coffee, and Catherine sat nearby; work was temporarily paused.

Upon seeing Qin Jin, someone put down their cup and turned on the computer screen, which had been black. Catherine pointed to a figure huddled in the corner of the seat, wearing a tattered coat, with messy hair completely covering his face and head buried in his rice: "This is the first one."

She zoomed in on another photo, taken in the corner of the train car connecting area. An elderly woman wearing an old-fashioned knitwear was facing away from the car and towards the door, with only a blurry silhouette and part of the back of her head visible.

Qin Jin carefully observed the two figures. His intuition told him that they were ordinary people who had simply been spared from being photographed by chance, not that they were deliberately avoiding the camera or that there was anything strange about them.

"Neither of them can be identified," Catherine concluded, her tone tinged with helplessness. "My plan for today is to check the recent accidental death list and see if I can find anyone who matches these two, and then identify them—"

"It's difficult," Qin Jin shook his head, interrupting her and rejecting this futile task: "If these two people died in some deserted corner, their bodies might not be discovered for a long time. Your comparison is meaningless; this approach is temporarily blocked."

Catherine paused for a moment, then thought about it and agreed that Qin Jin's words made sense. She hesitated for a second, then asked, "So what's our next step?"

"Go back to sleep first!" Qin Jin said clearly, then patted the technical department officer on the shoulder and raised his voice: "Everyone, go back and rest too. Come back this afternoon if you can, otherwise come tomorrow—"

The officers in the technical support team cheered. They knew very well Qin Jin's position in the Canyon Precinct. With him speaking up, the supervisor would definitely not object. They had really struck gold today.

After giving his instructions, Qin Jin turned to Catherine: "You too, rest first. After you wake up, check all nine confirmed cases to see who is still alive. Give them to me tomorrow morning, no rush."

After leaving the technical department, Qin Jin dialed Constantine's number.

"John, how's that old policeman doing?" Qin Jin asked.

Constantine yawned on the other end of the phone, accompanied by the soft click of a lighter: "Just woke up, about to leave. The old man's name is Murphy Moss, he lives in North Hollywood, we're meeting at 10:30."

What's wrong?

"I'll come pick you up, we'll go together," Qin Jin ordered.

"Huh? You're going too?" Constantine was a little surprised, but didn't ask any further questions. "Alright, it'll save me some gas money—by the way, don't come to my house, it's the Hilton Hotel on Southampton Street."

Forty minutes later, Qin Jin's black Dodge stopped in front of the Hilton Hotel on Southampton Street. Not long after, Constance Dante's figure emerged from the hotel's revolving door.

He had tidied himself up; his shirt, trousers, and trench coat had clearly been washed and ironed, but the colors never changed. His freshly blow-dried hair bounced loosely with each step, and he exuded the fragrance of high-end shower gel.

The most striking features were his two heavy dark circles under his eyes and the cigarette dangling crookedly from his mouth, making him look like a decadent and broken generation described in novels.

He opened the car door and skillfully climbed into the passenger seat.

"Good morning, Qin." He casually spat out the window, then turned to the back seat: "Hey, Alessa, good morning. And you, Yuanxiao."

Alessa held her Frankenstein's monster in her arms, glancing at him with her grey-blue eyes as a greeting, her expression as cold as ever.

Yuanxiao, lying next to him, seemed much more enthusiastic. This increasingly round little bear cub smelled the familiar scent, dropped the vampire pillow, and crawled into the middle of the front seat, its fluffy head trying to rub against Constantine.

Hey buddy, missed me?

Constantine smiled, clearly pleased with the little guy's welcome.

He expertly rummaged in his trench coat pocket and pulled out a pretty red apple: "Here, this is for you. I guarantee it's the best one at the hotel's buffet breakfast."

Yuanxiao was satisfied now. She deftly took the apple with her paws, climbed back onto the back seat, and began to happily crunch away at it.

Qin Jin started the car and drove into the lane.

He glanced at Constantine's lustful face and said calmly, "John, promise me, if you ever die on a woman's belly, don't become a vengeful spirit and come after me. I don't care about that kind of grudge."

Constantine, as if his tail had been stepped on, immediately retorted, his tone tinged with displeasure at being looked down upon: "Hey! Monk from the East, I'm not like you—I know my limits."

"Your limit is death, lying in a hospital or in a coffin."

Qin Jin bluntly exposed his lie, but was too lazy to bother with his trivial matters anymore, and changed the subject: "Is the address confirmed? It's in North Hollywood."

"right."

The car returned to silence, with only the soft rustling sound of Yuanxiao eating an apple.

Following Constantine's directions, the car soon stopped in front of a typical North American suburban detached house. A white fence, a reasonably manicured lawn, and an older Chevrolet sedan parked in the driveway.

Shortly after the doorbell was rang, an elderly man with gray hair, a slightly plump figure, and wearing a plaid shirt and khaki pants walked out quickly.

His eyes were sharp, and despite his age, his back was ramrod straight, carrying the scrutinizing quality characteristic of an old-school policeman: "Detective Travin?" The old man looked at Constantine, then his gaze swept over Qin Jin and Alessa, nodding slightly. "I am Murphy Moss. And this gentleman is?"

"My team leader, Detective Qin Jin. This is—the team leader's sister, Miss Alessa," Constantine introduced smoothly, casually showing his police badge.

"Come in."

Murphy opened the gate. "I sent my wife to the supermarket, so we can talk in peace. Knowing you were coming, I dug out some old boxes."

Old Murphy led them into the house.

The living room was simply and warmly decorated, full of life. An open old cardboard box was placed on the sofa, containing yellowed folders and notebooks.

"After receiving a call from Detective Jack yesterday, I dug out everything related to that old case."

Old Murphy didn't waste any time on pleasantries and went straight to the point. He pointed to the cardboard box: "Detective Jack mentioned the Blue Line incident on the phone this year—yes, I was in charge of investigating that massive accident in '97."

He flipped through the papers inside; some were newspaper clippings, and some were handwritten notes.

"Back then, I also thought it was eerie. A whole busload of people, completely unrelated, died within a few days due to various accidents? I investigated for a long time." He raised his head, his eyes becoming deep: "My initial thought was the same as yours, that something happened during construction, someone was buried, or some ancient tomb was disturbed, and a vengeful spirit was at work."

"But I checked every record I could find—municipal, construction team, police," he shook his head, "the construction records for that section of the road are very clean. There were no fatalities, and I haven't heard of anything extraordinary being unearthed. There were no problems with the construction of this road."

"Then I wondered, was there some hidden connection between these victims? A vendetta? Or did they all participate in something that led to retribution?" He denied it again: "I dug up almost three generations of their ancestors, and the result was—absolutely no connection. Strangers, complete strangers."

Moss paused here, tapping his fingers on the folder as if organizing his thoughts and recalling the most crucial part.

"But I didn't come away empty-handed. One of the murdered girls, named Lisa, had a boyfriend who told me something very strange."

"Lisa was a night shift nurse. She liked to listen to the radio with headphones on during her night shifts to pass the time. About a week or two before the incident, she accidentally tuned into a station that was broadcasting a program called something like 'Midnight Horror Stories'."

The old man's tone became low and mysterious: "At first, she didn't pay attention, just listening to it as a normal horror story. But soon she realized something was wrong—when the story described the locker door creaking open," she actually heard the locker outside her duty room make a sound; the story said a dark shadow flitted past the window," and she turned her head sharply, indeed catching a glimpse of something flashing past—she was terrified and dared not listen any longer."

"However," Old Murphy's voice lowered even further, "the most terrifying thing is that the day before her accident, she told her boyfriend that she couldn't help but eavesdrop on the show's preview again. The host said in that sinister tone that tomorrow's story would tell the horrific experience of a young nurse named Lisa Weber during her night shift—"

He looked up at Qin Jin and Constantine: "And Lisa's full name is Lisa Weber. She felt cursed by that horrific radio program, and she firmly believed that the story told on the show was a death prophecy written for her."

The living room was silent, save for the occasional birdsong coming from outside the window.

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