Chapter 3 Chapter Eleven
The 60-inch TV screen was filled with scorched black land, and white fragments were scattered here and there in the open field. If you looked closely, you would find that they were the remains of 212 victims covered in white cloth. The AS300 jetliner left New York's Westchester Airport at 11.50am this morning and crashed into the uptown sports field at Barry Hill two minutes later in clear blue skies.
From the aerial shot, you can see the wreckage area with a radius of about a quarter of a mile, as if a demon reached out and scraped off the whole piece, but the white tail stood there intact.The scattered debris around the crash site makes it impossible to think that this was originally a modern airliner bound for Boston.
"No one survived." The black eyes of the blond female reporter were full of sadness, and she reported the tragic air crash in the shortest sentence, "The National Transportation Safety Board arrived at the scene a few hours ago and found Northeast Airlines flight 502. Badly damaged black box from flight. A press conference is expected at 9pm."
These scenes that appeared earlier were played non-stop: hundreds of firefighters desperately tried to control the burning fire, passengers' luggage was scattered everywhere, firefighters bowed their heads tiredly, their faces were covered with blackened dust Laptops and iPods strewn about on the ground, an intact Yankees baseball cap lying on an undamaged field, badly damaged children's shoes, backpacks and briefcases are reminders of the fragility of life.
Inside, a flat-screen TV rests on a mahogany shelf in a vintage study filled with books ranging from Shakespeare to auto repair, Alexandre Dumas to antique studies.There is a large oil painting above the fireplace, and there are two paintings on the wall above the sofa with the theme of soldiers returning from World War II embracing their loved ones.Large leather chairs sit in front of an unlit fireplace, and a blue-spotted khaki Persian rug lends the place a gentlemanly 1940s feel.
Nick stood in the middle of the study, lost in thought for a moment, his legs trembling, and a low, monotonous rumbling sound in his ears.He grabbed the arm of the sofa chair as he fell backwards and sat down directly on the red leather upholstery.
His mouth tasted strange, bitter and metallic, as though he had lived through a strange nightmare; his lips were parched from gasping for air.The room now took on a golden hue, like the afterglow of some forgotten blinding glare that burned his eyes.He looked around, desperately trying to regain his sense of direction, and unconsciously bent his fingers, as if some invisible roar was pouring into his head.The overwhelmed sensory stimulation overwhelmed him, and he lost the sense of space, but strictly speaking, what he lost was the sense of time.
He looked around again, and these things finally became familiar.He recognized the monotonous rumble, the sound of the generator, and now that the whole area was without power, it was the generator that kept the house powered.
One name springs to mind: Marcus Bennett.His best friend, his neighbor.This is his house, his study.Nick had been here an hour ago, and Marcus offered him sympathetic solace...
Then reality crushed him like a two-ton boulder.
As soon as Nick closed his eyes, he could see her full lips, her flawless skin, her natural beauty.Her voice was still in my ears, as clear as speaking in front of him.The faint scent of lavender on her skin was vividly imprinted in his heart, and all this finally pushed him to the limit.He was devastated, entering a darkness he had never known.The darkness gripped him desperately.
Finally, Nick looked up and looked at the wreckage on the TV, seeing many broken body parts scattered like discarded objects.Death was all around him, and many people fell from happiness to hell on this day.Despite the horror of the events before him, he just wallowed in his grief, selfishly mourning his own tragedy.
He picked up the TV remote, found the off button, and took one last look at the burning wreckage.At this time, he suddenly caught a glimpse of the time at the bottom of the screen, and then slowly moved his gaze to the latest headlines.He went to the TV and saw the new time popping up.Nick stared at the opaque TV station logo in the corner, and finally saw the thing that made him panic.
He hadn't noticed it before.There was so much unimaginable death and wreckage on the TV, so much information pouring in, and his mind was in such a mess that he didn't notice it at all.It is clearly located at the bottom right, highlighted in white lettering.The impossible message made him dizzy.The glowing numbers on the clock were reflected in the background of the news, and he looked at them twice, thinking he was dazzled or someone on the TV had made a mistake.He looked at the clock again: 8:15 p.m.
Nick's eyes immediately jumped to his wrist. There was a white mark on the skin where he usually wore the watch. He remembered...
He reached into his pocket and took out the letter.The envelope was milky white with a smooth satin surface, and there was a delicate blue coat of arms in the left corner, with a dragon on it, and above the dragon was a lion's head, and the dragon's neck was pierced by an exquisite sword.Nick wasn't sure which club or school crest it was, or if it belonged to the stranger who had given him the letter.
He reached into his pocket again and took out the pocket watch that the European had given him. He lifted the watch cover, and the cursive Latin characters were engraved on the mirror-like silver metal: XXXXXX.
(figure 1)
Nick's eyes finally fell on the surface.An old Roman numeral clock showing fifteen minutes past eight.This sight surprised him for a while.
He was interrogated at 9:20, and he clearly remembered that the clock on the wall of the interrogation room was going to ten o'clock. He listened to the detective's questions and looked at the exquisite Colt pistol. The tense atmosphere in the air gradually Strong, the situation culminated when he snatched Danse's 9mm pistol.At that moment, death was imminent.
He remembered sitting in this room with Marcus about an hour ago, drinking scotch, the pain of losing Julia tearing at his heart.They sat together bewildered, sad and sad.All this is as clear as a slow-motion film.He clearly remembered Marcus sitting across from him, reassuring him that everything would be fine, and then the dark door slowly opened, and there were two sullen police detectives standing in the doorway, and Shano held the butt of the gun in his hand.
It was in this room that he was arrested and handcuffed at nine o'clock.
His memory seemed to be reversed, and the sequence of events was thrown out of order.He remembered that he was in the interrogation room before, he remembered that he saw the photos of Julia that Detective Shannon brought to him, and those photos made him lose his mind; They are deadlocked.
But he couldn't remember what happened after Shano pulled the trigger.
Nick shook his head, closed the pocket watch, and put it back in his pocket.
He looked at the envelope again, praying secretly that the letter would answer the question in his mind.He tore open the envelope, took out two pages of off-white letter paper, and began to read.
Nick read the two-page letter three times, then folded it and stuffed it into his breast pocket.He wasn't sure how he should feel, he was just thinking that he was stupid enough to accept this, to allow this impossible hope to grow in him.
He is delirious.
Detective Shano pushed the photos of Julia's death in front of him to force him to look at them. The photos were so real that he was hurt.Nick thought he was really out of his mind now, in a hallucination of longing.He was trapped in this dream, desperately trying to wake himself up.
He took out the pocket watch that the European man gave him in the interrogation room, lifted the watch cover, and stared at the Roman numerals on it.
For all his doubts, for all the implausibility of it all, there was no doubt that he was really standing here, and the time on the watch couldn't be wrong.
It was not a figment of his imagination, nor a dream, that Nick had sat in this room drinking scotch with Marcus and mourning Julia's death.His tears were real, the pain in his heart was real, and Marcus' words of comfort were still ringing in his ears.
He remembered, too, sitting in the interrogation room of the Barry Hill police station, being questioned by Dance, looking at the weapon that had taken Julia from him.At nine fifty-eight, Robert Shanor had thrust the brutal photographs in front of him, and it was all real.During the nine minutes before ten o'clock, he kept his eyes on the clock on the wall.
And yet here he was, staring at the little black hands of a pocket watch that looked at least a hundred years old, perfectly functional, and showing the time at 8:15.
Nick picked up the remote control from the antique table and pointed it at the TV, and scenes of miserable scenes like horror movies appeared on the screen.
The news in front of me is undoubtedly a serious tragedy. In the next few days, the relevant reports of the crash will surely shock the people of the whole country.He suddenly understood that he was the only one crying for Julia when most of the world was mourning for the passengers of Northeast Flight 502.
After a while, after he rationalized the irrationality, he began to think about the truth of the letter.What if it was possible to go back in time?Even if it was true, he had nothing to lose.If he accepts that everything said in the letter is true, if he is willing to accept that the current time is indeed 8:15, then maybe...
No matter how impossible it was, or whether he was really insane, if the letter was true and the pocket watch really had this "ability", he might really be able to save her.
The door opened suddenly, and Marcus' huge body filled the doorway.He wore gray striped trousers, a blue Hermès tie, white shirt sleeves rolled up, and he had the stocky build of a lumberjack.As he entered the study, he held a wine glass in his claw-like hands.
Marcus and Nick had been neighbors for six years, not just casual acquaintances who would say hello as they drove by.They both love hockey and watch most Rangers games together at each other's houses.Both were passionate fans and both played hockey in high school, but not at the pro level.In order to make up for this unfulfilled wish and to continue the happy time of their youth, they would go to the club to play every Wednesday night.Nick is the goalie and Marcus is his permanent defender.
Marcus was thirty-nine years old, seven years older than Nick, trained as a lawyer and knew how to use the letter of the law to buy companies.He had a very successful career and earned a large fortune at the age of thirty-two, but he had to bear endless alimony due to multiple divorces, which greatly reduced his property.Even so, he remains one of the wealthiest men in the district.His vision for choosing women is completely incomparable with the professionalism he showed when merging companies.He was married three times and divorced three times, which took six years.
Every time his marriage failed, Marcus would bury his head in his work and curse those women. He hated those women for blinding his reason, and even said he wanted to become a priest when he was drunk.
Due to frequent emotional failures, he is not only very close to Nick, but also very close to Julia.She represents a certain voice of reason and comfort.She is like a sister to Marcus, helping him through emotional trauma.She watched him go up and down like a roller coaster, from sad to angry to confused.Every time Marcus thinks he's found the love of his life, it always burns out faster than his latest contract.
Marcus is currently courting a new girlfriend.Sheila used to be a model, a product spokesperson (it's just that no one knows which products she endorsed, or whether she actually modeled).She was stunningly beautiful, with thick black hair and dark chestnut eyes, a look that contrasted with Marcus's third wife, Bryce.The fair-skinned beauty only wore the wedding ring for eight months before leaving with tens of millions in alimony.
Marcus's teenage gray hair has thinned to almost baldness now, and his imperfect nose has been broken three times while playing hockey.Marcus was not handsome at all, people would not remember his looks, such a face could easily disappear in the crowd and be forgotten by everyone.But his wealth and warm smile will still allow him to brave the battlefield of love and attract a group of women willing to help him overcome the insecurities caused by his failed marriage.
Marcus handed the glass to Nick silently. The two did not speak. At this moment, the atmosphere was sad and heavy.Markus's dark brown eyes were full of worry, and Nick looked at the glass silently, lost in the tawny liquid and the smell of whiskey.
"I know you're not a drinker," Marcus said in a low voice, with a bit of command in his tone, "but all the rules don't apply right now."
Nick picked up his glass and took a long swig.
Marcus stretched out his hand and opened his palm, revealing two psychiatric pills, it was Xanax. "This is Sheila's medicine. She has three bottles, and she has it if you want to stabilize."
Nick shook his head, dismissing the idea of swallowing a whole bottle of pills and ending the nightmare.
"There were two detectives and a coroner searching over there. They said the whole place had to be assessed and photographed before..." Marcus paused, "before she could be taken away."
Nick knew all this, and he knew exactly what was going to happen this hour.In five minutes, he knew, the black body bag would be rolled out on the gurney, led by the gray-haired coroner.He also knew that the two detectives, one named Shano and the other named Dans, would soon enter this room.Moreover, he also knew about the lawyer Mitch Shilov.
"Do you remember Mitch?" Marcus asked.He seemed to be able to read Nick's mind. "Last year he went with us to the Red Wings game against the Rangers."
The man, Nick remembered, was a nasty big-mouthed, talkative, self-righteous man.But worst of all, he often gets what he says.
"He's the best lawyer I've ever met and I was about to call him. He's a Red Sox fan who bet me last night that the Yankees would lose and now owes me a thousand bucks. You don't want Because this matter can't get through with him."
It was exactly what Marcus had said earlier, and it was exactly what Nick remembered.
"Anyway, he is the most powerful criminal case lawyer in New York." Marcus continued, "It must be a lawyer with his personality to be able to put an end to those people's nonsense and fight back against those baseless accusations."
But Nick also remembered that Mitch didn't make it to the police station in time.
"But let me tell you, he has a problem, he's not very punctual. I can call him first, and it's really not a problem at all, because you don't need to be with a bunch of low-educated people who only think about basketball games and 'U.S. Idol' police talk."
Marcus went to the large leather-covered desk and picked up the phone.
Nick watched him dial, thinking about what he would say.He wondered if he was going to let Marcus share his nervous breakdown?
"Wait a minute before you make that call," Nick cut him off.
Marcus pauses and slowly puts down the microphone.
"I don't know what to say..." Nick paused, seeming to make Marcus a little uncomfortable, "but I have to find out who did it."
Marcus walked around the desk. "They'll find out, and the beast will pay for it."
"No, I have to... I have to stop him."
"Stop him?" Marcus asked, confused.
"I have to find that person."
Marcus stared at him blankly, listening quietly, then paused for a moment, considering what to say. "Leave this matter to the police! Anyone who would do such a thing must be a dangerous person."
"She's not dead," Nick blurted out.
Marcus sighed, remaining calm. "I feel sorry for you, she's really a... perfect woman, really, if there's a word for perfection, it's Julia."
Nick put the glass on the table and rubbed his face slowly with his hands.He tried to concentrate on whether he should jump into the abyss of madness.
"I can save her," Nick replied.He decided to accept the illogical situation.
Marcus sat there, patiently watching his best friend lose his mind.
"I can't explain it, and I don't know how to explain it, but I can save her."
Marcus looked at Nick all the time, without anger, without reproach.His eyes are full of pain and heartbreak, as if trying to imagine how much Nick and Julia love each other, and trying to understand that the pain that comes from such a deep love must be more serious.
"What if I told you I could see the future?" Nick said.
"Are you going to tell me the Yankees are going to win the whole year?" Marcus didn't quite understand what Nick was trying to say.
Nick looked at the fireplace, thinking about how to go on.
"Sorry," Marcus said, "I... I didn't mean to..."
"No, it's okay," Nick turned and stared at his friend, "This thing sounds crazy, but listen to me, it won't be long before they come in and arrest me, take me to the police station, and make me confess that I didn't Done, show me a gun I've never seen."
Marcus looked nervous.
"I didn't kill her, Marcus, I love her more than I love myself. She's like the air I live on. She keeps me warm and makes me happy. I'm willing to risk everything now to switch sides with her, take me I will exchange her life for hers, as long as it can bring her back to life, I am willing to do anything."
"I know you didn't do it," Marcus said sympathetically. "You're upset right now. I understand."
The two sat quietly for a while.
Finally, Marcus finally turned around and went to the phone. "I'm going to call Mitch, you should talk to him."
"He's too late."
"Too late?"
"They're going to get me..." Nick reached into his pocket, took out the gold watch, and lifted the cover.
"Where did you get..."
"They'll be coming for me in thirteen minutes." Nick closed the gold watch and stuffed it back into his pocket.
"What? That doesn't make sense!" Marcus shook his head suspiciously. "They can't catch you."
"It's Shano and Danse."
"What did you say?"
"Detective Shannon and Dance. The two detectives who are in my house right now will come and arrest me."
When the two detectives had pulled into the driveway earlier, Marcus had walked over to say hello and introduce himself before showing them to Julia's body.They told him he'd better stay home until they got the job done.They asked about Nick, and said they needed to talk to Nick after they had finished their preliminary investigation.Finally, as Marcus turned and walked toward the gate, the two men gave him their names.
"You know them?" Marcus asked puzzled.
"Didn't know, or should I say, I hadn't seen them before they handcuffed me."
Marcus looked at him in surprise. "You mean you know what's going to happen next?"
Nick nodded.
"Okay!" Marcus fell silent.He put down the phone and sat down on the high-backed sofa chair next to Nick, the sympathy in his eyes increased tenfold. "I suppose it's impossible for you to tell me what they're wearing?"
"Dance wears cheap blue tracksuits," Nick said immediately of their outfits, "white shirt, wrinkled tan trousers. Shano is a muscular jerk in an undersized black polo and faded jeans."
Marcus tilted his head, took a deep breath, and slowly digested what Nick had said.He got up from his chair, went to the window, and looked through the shutters at Nick's room.He could see the vehicles.The two policemen should be clearly visible from here.They were getting out of a car parked in Nick's driveway, so Nick could easily see them.But Marcus didn't want to argue with his friend in his delirious state.
"Listen," Nick said, getting more and more excited, "I'm not crazy, the Yankees..."
"Why are we talking about the Yankees?" Marcus began to worry.
"They are playing now, and they will win in the second half of the ninth inning..." Nick had just finished speaking, and suddenly realized how stupid this sounded, so he lowered his head in frustration.
The two sat in silence for a while.
Suddenly, however, Nick looked up again. "His ring finger... Dance's right ring finger is gone from the second knuckle down."
Marcus remained silent.
"You know, I can't see this from your window." Nick wanted to reassure Marcus, "Ask him, did you have a good time at the Jersey Shore?"
Marcus stepped out the side door of the house into the late summer sunset.He grieves for his friend.Julia was so close to him, she knew him and healed him time and time again.She understood his mistakes and his worries, weaknesses and pains, and she never once refused his appeal for help. Julia and Nick share a deep bond, and the two of them have the love of his dreams.They are the standard by which he judges every marriage, even if he knows before he says "I do" and promises "until death" that his marriage will never compare to theirs.The two of them seemed to be one, not Julia and Nick, or Nick and Julia.Few would separate the names of the two of them, they were always together in their spare time and put each other first. To see her body lying on the floor, so brutally taken from her life, was almost debilitating.Who would do such a cruel thing?Who would take away an innocent life like this, and take away a husband's reason to live? When Julia died, the bullet hit Nick as well.He has a mental breakdown, refuses to believe in reality, and fantasizes about changing the past and saving Julia.This is the fantasy of a severely traumatized man who has lost his mind. At the time of the incident, Marcus was standing in the garage, looking for some documents in the trunk, when he heard gunshots coming from the Quinn home.At that moment, a chill ran down his spine.He ran quickly, past their open garage door, through the coat-room door, and saw Julia lying askew by the back stairs.Half of her face was gone.It took all of Marcus's strength to hold back, his heart filled with grief and horror.He stepped over her body and saw Nick sitting on the floor next to her, stroking her leg like a child who didn't know death. Now, Marcus walked leisurely across the spacious side yard to Nick's house, but this time he had no reason to run, nothing could bring Julia back to life. The coroner's truck and two unmarked police cars were parked in the driveway.Generally speaking, a sudden incident in a town that has had no murders in twenty-five years must have attracted a large number of police forces. However, now every policeman in the police station, including the back office, secretaries and front desk personnel, went to the crash site went.All firefighters, first responders, commissioners and the town's doctor were called out.Barry Hill, even the county, has never had a crash, but fortunately this well-to-do community reacted like a professional in the event of a disaster.Everyone who was available went to the scene with the National Transportation Safety Board to fully assist.Whether it was helping the families of the victims, searching for plane wreckage and body parts, or dealing with administrative chores, the entire town of Barry Hill was three miles away at the disaster site, leaving only two detectives to deal with Julie. Leah's event. Nick and Julia lived on three acres, one of the few large parcels of land that hadn't been subdivided.Their house was built in the 1890s and expanded in 1927, 1997 and 2007.The former main house was five thousand square feet of expensive farm land, quite a grand estate.Each room is hung with paintings and memorabilia reflecting the taste of the previous owner.But unlike ordinary mansions that are just museum-like exhibition rooms, their house is designed for ordinary families to live in. Marcus always thought that this house would be full of children's laughter.But when he got through the yellow warning tape at the crime scene, opened the kitchen door, and stepped into the white and spacious kitchen, Marcus knew clearly that not only would there be no children's voices in this house, it is likely that Nick would never again. return. Marcus walked across the restaurant and stopped when he heard the detective talking in the lobby.He stood for a while before stepping back, feeling as if being dragged by an invisible force.Although he couldn't bear to see Julia's body again, he couldn't help but craned his neck and looked towards the cloakroom where her body lay. The gray-haired coroner bent over the zipper of the black body bag and took out a black marker pen to write on the body bag label, which was as emotionless as filling out a grocery list.The man's black eyebrows contrasted sharply with his white hair, and his curvy body and weathered skin made him look at least seventy-five years old.Marcus guessed that many retired doctors, examiners, and coroners must be called today to deal with the mountain of dead bodies at Barry Hill. Marcus could vaguely see Julia's figure in the black body bag, and he wondered if the undertaker would be able to restore her face so that her husband could see her one last time, say his last farewell. There was still a large pool of blood on the floor, and there were still broken and fuzzy flesh and bones on the wall behind, and a few strands of hair were flying in the invisible breeze.All the manpower went to the crash site, no one will be here to clean up the innocent victims for a few days.This is not enough, he has to call to find someone in the city to take care of everything.While those men were cleaning up the scene, he would help arrange the funeral for Nick, who was too restless now to deal with such trivial matters. "Hi!" The voice startled Marcus, and his thoughts returned to reality. "What are you doing here?" Xia Nuo asked, "We told you just now that you and her husband should wait next door for us to finish." "I thought..." Marcus looked around, "I thought you guys were done." "This is a crime scene. Only the two of us are handling it. We have to take all the fingerprints and investigate everything ourselves. It will count when I agree." "Sorry." Marcus walked back to the kitchen door, "I'm going back to the next door." "Damn it, where is Quinn? I thought you'd be with him all the time." Xia Nuo paused, and suddenly became nervous, "Will he run away?" "Run away? Why run away? His wife is dead, and he can't even stand upright now." "I said," the detective held up a finger, "since all of you are here, let's talk!" The detective turned and walked into the living room as if it were his home, and motioned for Marcus to follow him. "It won't take much time." Marcus nodded. "As long as I can catch the murderer, I will do anything." He found another policeman coming in after him, but he chose not to turn to look. "You said earlier that you knew the deceased and her husband very well. How well do you know?" "We are very good friends, I am very close to both of them." Marcus replied. "Has one of them had an affair?" "It's too much for you to say that." Marcus suddenly wanted to strangle the policeman who asked such a stupid question. "We have to ask," Dance said from behind him, "where were you when Mrs. Quinn was shot?" "As I told you, it's next door, in my own garage. I was going out to eat when I heard gunshots and rushed over." "Is anyone with you?" "No, but I was on the phone with my girlfriend, she was in California for the weekend, you can check." "What's Nick Quinn's relationship with the deceased?" Shano asked. "Her name is Julia," Marcus said suddenly.He struggled to control his anger. "They were very close, even more in love than when they were newlyweds." "Are any of them very emotional?" "No, actually, they're very gentle." Marcus still couldn't believe that Julia was gone, he couldn't even get used to the fact that he would never hear her voice again. "In this case, why did he kill her?" Marcus couldn't answer for a while, he thought he had heard wrong. "What reason does he have to do this?" Shano continued to ask Marcus, "Can you think of a reason, is it for money, or is it because of jealousy?" "Nick couldn't have killed her," Marcus said. "He couldn't have hit her, let alone shot her." "That's not what the evidence says." Dance held up a large clear plastic pouch containing a large, elegant pistol that looked like it belonged to royalty; the ivory stock was studded with jewels. "Do you know why he hid this expensive weapon in the compartment?" Marcus was stunned immediately when he saw it.He never knew Nick had the gun. "It can't be his." Without saying a word, Dance put the pistol into the plastic case and turned to Marcus. "Believe it or not," Shano said, "I think he did it. If he has a lawyer, I suggest you call a lawyer and I'm going to interrogate this guy until he pleads guilty. Believe me, today I really don't have time to listen to these lies these days." Marcus looked at the cop and suddenly remembered why he had come.He looks at the detective's tight shirt and jeans and thinks he's an asshole.He looked at the detective's right hand, but all five fingers were there. "You're Detective Dance, right?" Marcus asked. "No, I'm Robert Shanor, he's Dance." Shano pointed to his partner.They are going into the kitchen. "Sorry." Marcus turned to Dance. "Did I see you on the Jersey Shore?" "I don't think so." Dance stared at him suspiciously and shook his head, "Why do you ask that?" "I thought……" "I hate the Jersey Shore," Dance said sullenly as he walked into the locker room. Marcus watches as Dance walks towards Julia's body bag.He took off his plastic gloves and bent over to help Shano and the white-haired coroner carry the black body bag onto the gurney. Marcus looked at Shano and Dance's outfits again, and they were indeed exactly as Nick had described.Still, maybe Nick saw it from the window and then forgot about it.Judging by his fragile state of mind at this time, he is likely to hide in the reality of his fantasy. Marcus looked at the black body bag containing Julia, and suddenly felt distraught. He still couldn't accept the fact that she was dead.But what surprised Marcus the most was when he turned his eyes back to Danse, who was pushing the gurney out the door, and saw the detective's right hand. ...his ring finger. ...the part below the second joint is gone.
Nick sat motionless in Marcus's study.He had read the letter three times, and was in utter bewilderment at the moment.There was no logic to what the European had written, but Nick thought he had lost his mind as well.How did he get here?How could such a thing happen?Nick is not a superstitious person, nor does he believe in the paranormal, myths, legends or aliens.He didn't believe in lucky pennies, or bad luck, or broken mirrors before, but he'd gladly accept any of that if it got Julia back. He got up and walked around in the study, casually looking at the photos on the bookshelf.A couple of framed pictures were of Sheila, and a couple of older pictures apparently cut from photos with previous wives, and two other frames were empty.Finally, his eyes fell on the picture of him, Julia, and Marcus holding hands together, displayed in the middle of the bookshelf, all three of them smiling.Nick couldn't remember whether it was Bryce or Dana who took the photo, but he didn't care, it was a happy time, before the murder or the crash, and the happiness seemed to last forever. Nick finally detached himself from the picture.He worried that he would be overwhelmed by sadness again, so he turned to look out the window.Fear arose when he watched Shannon and Detectives Dance help the white-haired coroner roll Julia's black body bag from the house and onto the truck. Marcus stood in the driveway watching her being loaded into the truck, his head hanging sadly.The two detectives turned to Marcus, and then the three walked slowly across the large side yard between the two houses. Nick really wanted to escape, but he didn't know where he could escape. No matter how fast or how far he escaped, his fate was already doomed.He took out the pocket watch from his pocket, lifted the watch cover, and saw that the time on it was 8:55, and he fell into thought again. He took the letter out of his pocket again, slowly and carefully read the incredible content in the letter, trying to digest the meaning as if reading the Bible. Nick couldn't help but look out the window at the truck carrying the cold black body bags. (figure 2) A man faced with a losing situation and the darkest future will abandon logic and turn to the mystical such as faith and prayer, convincing himself that there are more powerful gods to help him.This often happens in the most desperate and critical times, it may be in the mall, or even on the battlefield.Facing an enemy, the soldier will pray to God for his victory, not knowing that his opponent is also praying for salvation, and the two may even be praying to the same God.人会为了爱情对星星许愿，信心满满地将一块铜板丢进水池里，认为这样就能赢得头奖。人们也会摸摸兔子脚，期望自己喜爱的橄榄球队能赢得超级碗。 所以，尼克也开始相信手中这只怀表的力量，相信陌生人信里写的——虽说他完全搞不懂出现在这封信最底下的是什么语言，但他相信，只要他努力一点，应该就能阻止那名杀手，能让茱莉亚免于一死。只要他撑到九点，就能确定这一线希望是否纯属空想，确定他的信心是否放错了地方，是不是注定要重新经历在审讯室内的那场磨难。虽然这似乎有点愚蠢，但他也只能把希望寄托于此。 尼克突然回过神来，冲出书房，穿过两层楼高的大理石门厅，来到大门口。他扣上插锁，急忙穿过客厅的落地窗，来到后阳台。成功锁上后门和车库门之后，他又跑回书房，关上沉重的红木门，紧紧锁住。他很庆幸马库斯在书房的门上安装了插锁。在书房内门上装锁虽然很奇怪，但既然里面有一幅尚·李奥·杰洛米的大型油画和两幅诺曼·洛克威尔的画，就可以理解了。 尼克又看了看怀表。八点五十八分。 他们来了，他听到他们敲打着上锁的大门。 尼克走到观景窗前关上百叶窗，他将叶片往下翻转，不让外面看到屋里的任何动静。 他听到大门被踢开，像地震般轰隆作响，马库斯的声音在宛如洞穴般的大理石豪华门厅中响着，他一定是在气大门被踢坏的事。 书房门口传来敲门声。 “尼克，”马库斯模糊的声音从门外传来，“是我，我打电话给米契了，他会到警局去跟我们会面。不过这两个家伙要你跟他们走……而且，他们要你马上出来。” 尼克沉默不语，看看书房四周，又盯着手中的怀表，上面显示八点五十九分。 “听着，我会陪着你，”马库斯的语气中充满关怀，“我向你保证，我们一定会解决这一切。” 尼克还是全神贯注地盯着怀表。 “尼克，”马库斯在门外说，“我不知道究竟发生了什么事，不过我相信你，我相信你……” “够了，”夏诺打断他，“昆恩，马上把门打开。” 尼克坐在原位，目不转睛地看着怀表，秒针的速度缓慢无比。三十秒过去了，现在只要再等三十秒。 “尼克，拜托你开门好不好？我没有钥匙，这两个混蛋已经毁掉我的大门了。” 尼克继续盯着表，好像它可以突然把他变到别的时空，这表是个圣物，会显示出未来的真貌。 “给我闪一边去。”夏诺对马库斯吼，“昆恩，你只有五秒钟。” 尼克继续盯着滴答响的怀表，房门砰地打开，夏诺的脚踢坏锁和木门，碎片飞溅。他冲进门时已拔出手枪，紧握在胸前。丹斯也拿着武器紧跟在他身后。 “趴在地上。”这名激动的警探高喊。 尼克及时把怀表放进口袋，夏诺伸手抓住他的肩膀，把他压倒在波斯地毯上。 “该死！”马库斯怒吼，抓住夏诺的肩膀把他从尼克身边拉走，“不要这样。” 夏诺转过身朝马库斯下巴揍了一拳，马库斯毫不犹豫地把全身气力注人他的拳头，重重地打在夏诺的鼻子上，顿时鲜血狂喷。 尼克转身，把这一切全部隔绝，他的心已经抽离，专注在口袋中的表上，在脑中倒数着九点整前的秒数。 他周围的暴力事件持续进行，马库斯大吼一声，压到夏诺身上，尼克继续数着。 三…… 二…… one……
Notes:
Marcus stepped out the side door of the house into the late summer sunset.He grieves for his friend.Julia was so close to him, she knew him and healed him time and time again.She understood his mistakes and his worries, weaknesses and pains, and she never once refused his appeal for help. Julia and Nick share a deep bond, and the two of them have the love of his dreams.They are the standard by which he judges every marriage, even if he knows before he says "I do" and promises "until death" that his marriage will never compare to theirs.The two of them seemed to be one, not Julia and Nick, or Nick and Julia.Few would separate the names of the two of them, they were always together in their spare time and put each other first. To see her body lying on the floor, so brutally taken from her life, was almost debilitating.Who would do such a cruel thing?Who would take away an innocent life like this, and take away a husband's reason to live? When Julia died, the bullet hit Nick as well.He has a mental breakdown, refuses to believe in reality, and fantasizes about changing the past and saving Julia.This is the fantasy of a severely traumatized man who has lost his mind. At the time of the incident, Marcus was standing in the garage, looking for some documents in the trunk, when he heard gunshots coming from the Quinn home.At that moment, a chill ran down his spine.He ran quickly, past their open garage door, through the coat-room door, and saw Julia lying askew by the back stairs.Half of her face was gone.It took all of Marcus's strength to hold back, his heart filled with grief and horror.He stepped over her body and saw Nick sitting on the floor next to her, stroking her leg like a child who didn't know death. Now, Marcus walked leisurely across the spacious side yard to Nick's house, but this time he had no reason to run, nothing could bring Julia back to life. The coroner's truck and two unmarked police cars were parked in the driveway.Generally speaking, a sudden incident in a town that has had no murders in twenty-five years must have attracted a large number of police forces. However, now every policeman in the police station, including the back office, secretaries and front desk personnel, went to the crash site went.All firefighters, first responders, commissioners and the town's doctor were called out.Barry Hill, even the county, has never had a crash, but fortunately this well-to-do community reacted like a professional in the event of a disaster.Everyone who was available went to the scene with the National Transportation Safety Board to fully assist.Whether it was helping the families of the victims, searching for plane wreckage and body parts, or dealing with administrative chores, the entire town of Barry Hill was three miles away at the disaster site, leaving only two detectives to deal with Julie. Leah's event. Nick and Julia lived on three acres, one of the few large parcels of land that hadn't been subdivided.Their house was built in the 1890s and expanded in 1927, 1997 and 2007.The former main house was five thousand square feet of expensive farm land, quite a grand estate.Each room is hung with paintings and memorabilia reflecting the taste of the previous owner.But unlike ordinary mansions that are just museum-like exhibition rooms, their house is designed for ordinary families to live in. Marcus always thought that this house would be full of children's laughter.But when he got through the yellow warning tape at the crime scene, opened the kitchen door, and stepped into the white and spacious kitchen, Marcus knew clearly that not only would there be no children's voices in this house, it is likely that Nick would never again. return. Marcus walked across the restaurant and stopped when he heard the detective talking in the lobby.He stood for a while before stepping back, feeling as if being dragged by an invisible force.Although he couldn't bear to see Julia's body again, he couldn't help but craned his neck and looked towards the cloakroom where her body lay. The gray-haired coroner bent over the zipper of the black body bag and took out a black marker pen to write on the body bag label, which was as emotionless as filling out a grocery list.The man's black eyebrows contrasted sharply with his white hair, and his curvy body and weathered skin made him look at least seventy-five years old.Marcus guessed that many retired doctors, examiners, and coroners must be called today to deal with the mountain of dead bodies at Barry Hill. Marcus could vaguely see Julia's figure in the black body bag, and he wondered if the undertaker would be able to restore her face so that her husband could see her one last time, say his last farewell. There was still a large pool of blood on the floor, and there were still broken and fuzzy flesh and bones on the wall behind, and a few strands of hair were flying in the invisible breeze.All the manpower went to the crash site, no one will be here to clean up the innocent victims for a few days.This is not enough, he has to call to find someone in the city to take care of everything.While those men were cleaning up the scene, he would help arrange the funeral for Nick, who was too restless now to deal with such trivial matters. "Hi!" The voice startled Marcus, and his thoughts returned to reality. "What are you doing here?" Xia Nuo asked, "We told you just now that you and her husband should wait next door for us to finish." "I thought..." Marcus looked around, "I thought you guys were done." "This is a crime scene. Only the two of us are handling it. We have to take all the fingerprints and investigate everything ourselves. It will count when I agree." "Sorry." Marcus walked back to the kitchen door, "I'm going back to the next door." "Damn it, where is Quinn? I thought you'd be with him all the time." Xia Nuo paused, and suddenly became nervous, "Will he run away?" "Run away? Why run away? His wife is dead, and he can't even stand upright now." "I said," the detective held up a finger, "since all of you are here, let's talk!" The detective turned and walked into the living room as if it were his home, and motioned for Marcus to follow him. "It won't take much time." Marcus nodded. "As long as I can catch the murderer, I will do anything." He found another policeman coming in after him, but he chose not to turn to look. "You said earlier that you knew the deceased and her husband very well. How well do you know?" "We are very good friends, I am very close to both of them." Marcus replied. "Has one of them had an affair?" "It's too much for you to say that." Marcus suddenly wanted to strangle the policeman who asked such a stupid question. "We have to ask," Dance said from behind him, "where were you when Mrs. Quinn was shot?" "As I told you, it's next door, in my own garage. I was going out to eat when I heard gunshots and rushed over." "Is anyone with you?" "No, but I was on the phone with my girlfriend, she was in California for the weekend, you can check." "What's Nick Quinn's relationship with the deceased?" Shano asked. "Her name is Julia," Marcus said suddenly.He struggled to control his anger. "They were very close, even more in love than when they were newlyweds." "Are any of them very emotional?" "No, actually, they're very gentle." Marcus still couldn't believe that Julia was gone, he couldn't even get used to the fact that he would never hear her voice again. "In this case, why did he kill her?" Marcus couldn't answer for a while, he thought he had heard wrong. "What reason does he have to do this?" Shano continued to ask Marcus, "Can you think of a reason, is it for money, or is it because of jealousy?" "Nick couldn't have killed her," Marcus said. "He couldn't have hit her, let alone shot her." "That's not what the evidence says." Dance held up a large clear plastic pouch containing a large, elegant pistol that looked like it belonged to royalty; the ivory stock was studded with jewels. "Do you know why he hid this expensive weapon in the compartment?" Marcus was stunned immediately when he saw it.He never knew Nick had the gun. "It can't be his." Without saying a word, Dance put the pistol into the plastic case and turned to Marcus. "Believe it or not," Shano said, "I think he did it. If he has a lawyer, I suggest you call a lawyer and I'm going to interrogate this guy until he pleads guilty. Believe me, today I really don't have time to listen to these lies these days." Marcus looked at the cop and suddenly remembered why he had come.He looks at the detective's tight shirt and jeans and thinks he's an asshole.He looked at the detective's right hand, but all five fingers were there. "You're Detective Dance, right?" Marcus asked. "No, I'm Robert Shanor, he's Dance." Shano pointed to his partner.They are going into the kitchen. "Sorry." Marcus turned to Dance. "Did I see you on the Jersey Shore?" "I don't think so." Dance stared at him suspiciously and shook his head, "Why do you ask that?" "I thought……" "I hate the Jersey Shore," Dance said sullenly as he walked into the locker room. Marcus watches as Dance walks towards Julia's body bag.He took off his plastic gloves and bent over to help Shano and the white-haired coroner carry the black body bag onto the gurney. Marcus looked at Shano and Dance's outfits again, and they were indeed exactly as Nick had described.Still, maybe Nick saw it from the window and then forgot about it.Judging by his fragile state of mind at this time, he is likely to hide in the reality of his fantasy. Marcus looked at the black body bag containing Julia, and suddenly felt distraught. He still couldn't accept the fact that she was dead.But what surprised Marcus the most was when he turned his eyes back to Danse, who was pushing the gurney out the door, and saw the detective's right hand. ...his ring finger. ...the part below the second joint is gone.
Nick sat motionless in Marcus's study.He had read the letter three times, and was in utter bewilderment at the moment.There was no logic to what the European had written, but Nick thought he had lost his mind as well.How did he get here?How could such a thing happen?Nick is not a superstitious person, nor does he believe in the paranormal, myths, legends or aliens.He didn't believe in lucky pennies, or bad luck, or broken mirrors before, but he'd gladly accept any of that if it got Julia back. He got up and walked around in the study, casually looking at the photos on the bookshelf.A couple of framed pictures were of Sheila, and a couple of older pictures apparently cut from photos with previous wives, and two other frames were empty.Finally, his eyes fell on the picture of him, Julia, and Marcus holding hands together, displayed in the middle of the bookshelf, all three of them smiling.Nick couldn't remember whether it was Bryce or Dana who took the photo, but he didn't care, it was a happy time, before the murder or the crash, and the happiness seemed to last forever. Nick finally detached himself from the picture.He worried that he would be overwhelmed by sadness again, so he turned to look out the window.Fear arose when he watched Shannon and Detectives Dance help the white-haired coroner roll Julia's black body bag from the house and onto the truck. Marcus stood in the driveway watching her being loaded into the truck, his head hanging sadly.The two detectives turned to Marcus, and then the three walked slowly across the large side yard between the two houses. Nick really wanted to escape, but he didn't know where he could escape. No matter how fast or how far he escaped, his fate was already doomed.He took out the pocket watch from his pocket, lifted the watch cover, and saw that the time on it was 8:55, and he fell into thought again. He took the letter out of his pocket again, slowly and carefully read the incredible content in the letter, trying to digest the meaning as if reading the Bible. Nick couldn't help but look out the window at the truck carrying the cold black body bags. (figure 2) A man faced with a losing situation and the darkest future will abandon logic and turn to the mystical such as faith and prayer, convincing himself that there are more powerful gods to help him.This often happens in the most desperate and critical times, it may be in the mall, or even on the battlefield.Facing an enemy, the soldier will pray to God for his victory, not knowing that his opponent is also praying for salvation, and the two may even be praying to the same God.人会为了爱情对星星许愿，信心满满地将一块铜板丢进水池里，认为这样就能赢得头奖。人们也会摸摸兔子脚，期望自己喜爱的橄榄球队能赢得超级碗。 所以，尼克也开始相信手中这只怀表的力量，相信陌生人信里写的——虽说他完全搞不懂出现在这封信最底下的是什么语言，但他相信，只要他努力一点，应该就能阻止那名杀手，能让茱莉亚免于一死。只要他撑到九点，就能确定这一线希望是否纯属空想，确定他的信心是否放错了地方，是不是注定要重新经历在审讯室内的那场磨难。虽然这似乎有点愚蠢，但他也只能把希望寄托于此。 尼克突然回过神来，冲出书房，穿过两层楼高的大理石门厅，来到大门口。他扣上插锁，急忙穿过客厅的落地窗，来到后阳台。成功锁上后门和车库门之后，他又跑回书房，关上沉重的红木门，紧紧锁住。他很庆幸马库斯在书房的门上安装了插锁。在书房内门上装锁虽然很奇怪，但既然里面有一幅尚·李奥·杰洛米的大型油画和两幅诺曼·洛克威尔的画，就可以理解了。 尼克又看了看怀表。八点五十八分。 他们来了，他听到他们敲打着上锁的大门。 尼克走到观景窗前关上百叶窗，他将叶片往下翻转，不让外面看到屋里的任何动静。 他听到大门被踢开，像地震般轰隆作响，马库斯的声音在宛如洞穴般的大理石豪华门厅中响着，他一定是在气大门被踢坏的事。 书房门口传来敲门声。 “尼克，”马库斯模糊的声音从门外传来，“是我，我打电话给米契了，他会到警局去跟我们会面。不过这两个家伙要你跟他们走……而且，他们要你马上出来。” 尼克沉默不语，看看书房四周，又盯着手中的怀表，上面显示八点五十九分。 “听着，我会陪着你，”马库斯的语气中充满关怀，“我向你保证，我们一定会解决这一切。” 尼克还是全神贯注地盯着怀表。 “尼克，”马库斯在门外说，“我不知道究竟发生了什么事，不过我相信你，我相信你……” “够了，”夏诺打断他，“昆恩，马上把门打开。” 尼克坐在原位，目不转睛地看着怀表，秒针的速度缓慢无比。三十秒过去了，现在只要再等三十秒。 “尼克，拜托你开门好不好？我没有钥匙，这两个混蛋已经毁掉我的大门了。” 尼克继续盯着表，好像它可以突然把他变到别的时空，这表是个圣物，会显示出未来的真貌。 “给我闪一边去。”夏诺对马库斯吼，“昆恩，你只有五秒钟。” 尼克继续盯着滴答响的怀表，房门砰地打开，夏诺的脚踢坏锁和木门，碎片飞溅。他冲进门时已拔出手枪，紧握在胸前。丹斯也拿着武器紧跟在他身后。 “趴在地上。”这名激动的警探高喊。 尼克及时把怀表放进口袋，夏诺伸手抓住他的肩膀，把他压倒在波斯地毯上。 “该死！”马库斯怒吼，抓住夏诺的肩膀把他从尼克身边拉走，“不要这样。” 夏诺转过身朝马库斯下巴揍了一拳，马库斯毫不犹豫地把全身气力注人他的拳头，重重地打在夏诺的鼻子上，顿时鲜血狂喷。 尼克转身，把这一切全部隔绝，他的心已经抽离，专注在口袋中的表上，在脑中倒数着九点整前的秒数。 他周围的暴力事件持续进行，马库斯大吼一声，压到夏诺身上，尼克继续数着。 三…… 二…… one……
Notes: