parentshiftbook Chapter 135 Speculation
Chapter 135 Speculation
Chapter 135 Speculation
Leonard said in a deep voice, "Given the eyewitness accounts and physical evidence found at the scene, we will immediately issue an arrest warrant for Emily Hayes. She is considered extremely dangerous."
"Also," he turned to Green, "Mr. Morris, you and Miss Sura are currently safe, but I advise you not to stay in this house alone for the time being. The killer—your cousin Emily—may be back."
Green nodded numbly.
Safety? In this house filled with bloodshed and betrayal, where is there any safety to speak of?
The sheriffs began busily investigating the scene, recording information, and moving the body.
Green took Sula to stay temporarily at a small hotel on the corner. Sula seemed exhausted and fell asleep as soon as she entered the room, but even in her sleep, she would occasionally twitch with fright.
Green, however, was wide awake. He sat by the window, gazing at the deep night outside, his hand unconsciously stroking the cold barrel of the "Silent Messenger."
Emily's face, Aunt Sylvia's smile, Uncle Victor's last words, and Sura's terrified tearful eyes kept flashing through his mind.
wrong.
A tiny voice resounded in his heart.
There's still something wrong.
The scratch marks on Emily's room wall—the bloodstains were fresh, but the force and trajectory of the scratches revealed an extreme pain and struggle, unlike what a murderer who had just cruelly killed his own family would leave behind.
That's more like someone who's trapped and hurt—
Green turned his head slightly and looked at Sula, who was curled up in a ball on the bed.
Sura's fear was real; she couldn't possibly be lying about something like that.
But—the truth might be more complex than "Emily is the murderer"? What if Sula didn't see Emily?
Yes! If it's just someone impersonating Emily, then everything makes sense.
But if it's fake, then where did the real Emily go? Did she just vanish into thin air?
Green carefully recalled what had happened at home over the past few days, and realized that he hadn't seen Emily for several days!
Suddenly, Green felt that this speculation was reasonable.
"What if the 'Emily' that Sula saw was a fake—"
Therefore, the scratches on the wall have a new and more reasonable explanation: they are marks left by the real Emily in pain and despair when she was attacked, controlled, or imprisoned.
The bloodstains are fresh, indicating that the incident occurred recently, possibly even around the same time as the aunt's murder.
"Disappeared into thin air?" Green murmured softly, looking out at the dark night sky.
He was no longer a clueless newbie. In the extraordinary world, there is no such thing as truly "disappearing into thin air." Locked room disappearances often imply hidden spaces, spirit travel, or—the most terrifying disguise.
A chilling image uncontrollably surfaced in his mind: perhaps "Emily" hadn't left immediately after murdering her aunt.
That person might be in this house, in some corner, quietly watching the sheriffs work, watching Green's grief, watching Sura's terror. Perhaps, even while Sura was hiding, the fake Emily was nearby, cruelly enjoying the fear of her prey.
Green took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag.
"I haven't seen Emily for several days now —"
This detail resembles a key.
He was so shocked by the sudden tragedy that he overlooked the anomalies in the timeline.
During this time, neither Sura, her aunt, the maid Mrs. Lefever, nor even Emily herself noticed anything unusual. Everyone believed that Emily had not yet emerged from the shadow of her father's death.
And the unexpected is very likely to happen during this period.
But if the perpetrator is someone else, and the intrusion and substitution have been ongoing for some time, the other party has had ample time to observe, imitate, and plan. This is not merely a sudden murder, but a meticulously planned conspiracy against his family.
Who is the murderer? Who is the person impersonating Emily who killed her aunt?
What is the motive? Revenge? A warning? Or is it to obtain something?
Green's gaze sharpened.
He recalled the locked study left by his Uncle Victor, his aunt's occasional hesitant expression, and the "past" of this family that had never been explicitly told to him, yet which he could vaguely sense. This family might not be as simple as it seemed on the surface.
The imposter Emily needs to be a perfect impersonator, which would require a deep understanding of Emily's habits, tone of voice, and interactions with her family. This necessitates close, long-term observation. Besides lurking in the home for an extended period, another possibility is that the imposter somehow "read" Emily's memories or fragments of her personality.
In the extraordinary world, there are many abilities and items that can steal memories, mimic appearances, and even temporarily impersonate others. If the other party is involved in the "Seagull" incident, it is not surprising that a force capable of creating mass disappearances would possess such means.
So, where is the real Emily?
Is she still alive? If so, is she being held captive somewhere, or has she been moved?
If the other party needs to maintain the disguise for a long time, a living Emily is the biggest threat, but killing her immediately might mean losing the source of the "imitation"—Green forced himself to stop this deduction, but reason told him that he had to consider all possibilities.
Green took a deep breath. Whether the murderer was Emily or someone else, this matter was probably not that simple.
He is either an extraordinary individual who has lost control, or he has been drawn into an unseen vortex and conspiracy.
He had to report this to the Night's Watch; from any perspective, he could no longer hide it.
But if he were to report it to higher authorities, he would need a more convincing "preliminary investigation report" that would attract the attention of higher-ups, rather than a plea for help from a grieving relative.
This could secure more resources for him and also protect him to some extent. If his speculation is true, it would be dangerous to expose all his suspicions too early.
Green stubbed out the cigarette butt on the windowsill; a spark flashed, and it was extinguished completely.
His eyes had completely changed. He picked up his coat from the back of the chair, and quietly pushed open the door and left.
The hallway was filled with the smell of old carpets and cheap incense.
Downstairs, the hotel owner's mumbled words and the soft clatter of cups and plates drifted up. Green descended the creaking stairs, his gaze sweeping across the empty lobby before heading straight for the old wall-mounted telephone in the corner.
He picked up the receiver, inserted a coin, and dialed the night watchman's station number.
After a brief pause, a slightly weary female voice rang out: "This is St. George's Hospice, please speak."
"I am Grin Morris. There is an emergency that requires immediate reporting to Lieutenant Captain Clarice."
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