Chapter 20 The twentieth psychological consultation

Did you see that article in the newspaper last weekend, doctor?Police said they found the stolen goods in the studio of a teen's home.It should be said that it was his parents' house.After seeing the newspaper, I called the police who were investigating the theft of my house, wondering if there would be anything from my house among the stolen goods, but he said no.Then I thought about a phenomenon mentioned in that report: All the thefts happened at night. That being the case, how could a thief, and a juvenile delinquent at that, change his modus operandi just to break into my house?He must plan the time for my morning run to commit crimes, but why did he leave empty-handed?

I started thinking about psychos.Doesn't he think it's time to kidnap me?The summer was so hot that everyone was busy with outdoor activities, so the house opening and sales scene must have been deserted, so he didn't show up until the end of the day.As perverts have said, cabins are not easy to furnish.pervert may need help Shouldn't he have a partner? Even if he doesn't have a partner, he at least has a friend or a brother who is also perverted. Seeing him being killed by me, he exploded and wanted to seek revenge from me.I've always assumed that the thief saw me going out before going in and breaking into the empty door.Thinking the other way around, what if the thief thought I was at home?My car was parked in the driveway, and it was early in the morning.But, why did this person wait so long to deal with me?

By Monday, the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I decided to call Gary and ask, what are the chances that the psycho would have help?Crazy thoughts are a kind of cancer. If every cancer cell is not completely eradicated, it will grow into a bigger tumor over time.It's a pity that his mobile phone was turned off. I called the bureau to find him, but the people in the bureau said that he was not in and would only be back this weekend. I talk to him on the phone two or three times a week. I'm a little surprised why he didn't tell me when he was on vacation.Every time I call him, his tone is friendly, never say can I help you?stupid things like that.That's best because sometimes I don't even know why I call him.At first, calling him was just a reflex action.My world was turned upside down and out of control, and the only thing in my hands was the phone.Sometimes, I can't even speak thanks to the caller ID feature, and he'll wait two or three seconds, and if I still don't speak, he'll start talking about the case, and after giving an update, he'll tell me something about the police Anecdotally, I would feel better and hang up, sometimes I don't even say goodbye before I hang up.One day, when he couldn't find anything to talk about, he started explaining the correct procedure for cleaning a gun, and I finally let him go.Can't believe this guy never tires of answering my calls.

In recent months, my phone calls with him have shifted from monologues to two-way conversations, but he always avoids talking about personal matters, and his attitude keeps me from asking.Perhaps the reason for his vacation was to attend to personal affairs.Police probably have private lives too. The police who I chased away left me in the interrogation room, and I sat there for two or three hours, giving me enough time to count all the cement bricks and go back and count them again.What I want to know is if they have notified the family and the family is coming.I put down my backpack, hugged it on my lap, and stroked the rough cloth surface. For some reason, this action has the effect of stabilizing my mood.Those policemen were so thoughtless that they didn't ask me if I wanted to go to the bathroom. Fortunately, I was trained to hold back and never wanted to get up and go to the bathroom.

The door of the interrogation room finally opened, and a man and a woman came in. Both of them had the same serious expressions, and they were also wearing dark clothes. The man was wearing a fine suit.More than half of his short hair is already pale. I guess his age is in his early fifties, but his face is more like that of his forties. One can tell at a glance that he is over 180 tall. Proud of height.He looks steady and his personality is calm.If he had boarded the Titanic, he would have been the type to drink his coffee before jumping ship for his life. He caught my gaze and walked towards me with a smooth gait, unhurried, and stretched out his hand to me.

Hello Annie, I'm Sergeant Kincaid of the Clayton Falls Homicide Squad. The man had no trace of Leyton Falls in his appearance, and I had no idea what a police officer's title was, except that he was higher in rank than Jablonski and Pepper.His handshake was strong, and when he let go and left, the calluses rubbed against my hand, which brought me an inexplicable sense of peace of mind. The woman who was waiting at the door came quickly at this moment.She was slightly fatter, with huge breasts, and I guessed she was in her late twenties, but she didn't look bloated in the skirt and blazer.Her hair is short and neat, and I bet she washes her garters every night and wears a supportive bra.

She shook my hand, smiled, and introduced herself with a faint Quebec French accent.I'm Sergeant Bushard.I'm really glad to finally meet you.annie. They sat down across from me.The inspector turned to the door and saw Jablonski about to move the third chair in. Let us do the rest, Kincaid said.Jablonsky moved the chair and stood at the door in a daze.Please have a cup of coffee. Kincaid turned his head back to look at me.I swallow my smile.It was the closest I got to a happy smile after the death of a little baby. These two people called me by my first name and regarded me as a good friend, but they refused to tell me their own names.

Can I have a business card?I said.The two looked at each other, and the male policeman caught my gaze for a second, then took out his business card, put it on the table and handed it over.The policewoman did the same.His name is Gary.Kincaid, she is Diane.Bushard.The first to speak was Gary. Annie, as I said, we are part of the Clayton Falls Police Department's Major Crimes Unit.I'm the team leader investigating this case.Is it useless to talk about this? You don't look like Clayton Falls, I said. He raised an eyebrow.not like it?Seeing that I didn't respond, he said that the doctor will come soon.he wants

I don't need to see a doctor. We stared at each other for a moment.He began to ask me basic information, such as date of birth, address, occupation and so on.My tensed shoulders relax. He started asking me about the day I was kidnapped, then paused. Do you mind reactivating the camera, Anne? Mind you, Gary.He kept calling my name, which reminded me of a psycho.Also, I don't want anyone behind that mirror. I didn't mean to upset you.He lowered his head, turned to one side, and looked up at me with gray-blue eyes.Video will make my task easier, Anne. Trying to fool me like this?clever.He pretended to search for me and quit. The person who escaped from the clutches was myself, and I was not willing to help him any more.They didn't speak, waiting for my consent to be recorded, but I didn't say a word.

Annie, what did you do on August 4th last year?I don't remember the date of the abduction. I don't know, Gary.If you're referring to the day I disappeared, I just remember it was Sunday, and I was having an open house sale, the first weekend in August.As for the number, you can check it yourself. Do you want me to stop calling your name? Suddenly hearing this respectful words, I looked at his face carefully to understand if he was teasing me, but I saw a sincere face, which made me wonder if he just wanted to use this trick to win my trust, or if he really cared. It's okay, I said.

What was your mother's second name, Anne? She only has one name.I leaned forward and whispered in an exaggerated tone: Did I pass? I understand the need for the police to verify their identity, but, damn it, the police have plenty of photos.I'm sure I don't look like I've had a year of Qingfu.I was skinny, with disheveled hair and a sweat-stained dress. He finally asked me directly what happened.I said that the pervert took advantage of the open house sale to attack me.I'm using the name the pervert uses when he introduces himself.I was about to explain further when Gary interjected: Where is he? died.The two of them stared at me intently, but I refused to cooperate until they answered my few questions. Where is my family? Notified your mother, she'll be here tomorrow, Gary said. The thought of seeing my mother again brought tears to my eyes, and I had to look down at the backpack and count the lines on the fabric.Hey, why didn't she come over right away?It has been hours since I walked into this police station.How long does it take to drive here?Haven't these two men already come from Clayton Falls? I wonder what kind of place this is. I'm sorry, Gary said.I thought you knew this was Port Northfield. Can you point me to the map? Gary nodded to Diane, who went out and brought back a map.Gary pointed to a small town in the northwest of Clayton Falls, three to one from the north and south ends of Vancouver Island, on the west coast.The roads outside this kind of small town are usually bumpy and rugged, so you can't drive slowly.According to my calculation, the drive from Clayton Falls to here is at least four hours. Why are you here so soon? Helicopter, Gary said.Seeing the helicopter landing in the air, the residents of the town must have talked a lot. I guessed right, I wasn't too far from home.I stared at Gary's finger pointing at Port Norfed, blinking back tears. How did you find the police station?Gary asked. Came here by car. Where did you drive from?His fingers tapped the tabletop. A cabin on the hill. How long have you been driving, Annie? About an hour. He nodded, and pointed to a mountain on the map near Norfid Harbor. is it here?Castle Peak?Whoever gave that name to that mountain lacked imagination. have no idea.I am on a mountain, not looking down from the sky. He sent Diane to fetch detailed maps of the town.Gary and I stared wide-eyed, waiting for her to come back, the only sound being the tap of his feet under the table.When she came back, Gary handed me a pen and asked me to draw the path I had driven over.I drew it as roughly as possible. Can you take us there? I will never go back there.The key to the van was still in my hand, and I threw the key at Gary across the way. The van was parked across the road. He hands Diane the key and asks her to go out.She must have told someone else, because she came in about two seconds later.A thought flickered in the back of my mind.If I'm only four hours away from home, Mom can start right away and get to Port Norfield by night. Why doesn't my mother come over right away? Your stepfather has to go to work at night and can't leave until tomorrow morning.Gary was stating the facts, so I took it with a grain of salt, but I wondered why she didn't drive north herself.What's even weirder is, why does Wayne work the night shift?It was rare for him to find a job.I guess Gary told them to come back the next day so they wouldn't interfere with the interrogation. Gary said he had to go out on business and left me alone with Diane for a few minutes in the interrogation room.I stared at the wall above her head. Your mother will be here soon.She was so happy to hear that you were found, and she missed you so much.I was not found because I found the police station myself. Gary came back and said he'd sent some men to look for the cabin. There was a cop who used to hunt in that area, and he said he might know where the cabin was.I haven't revealed that I hacked the psycho, and I haven't said anything about my baby.My head hurts just thinking about how many question marks these facts will raise.I want to be alone.I can no longer get along with these people. I don't want to answer any more questions. Gary looked like he wanted to ask, but Diane said: Well, everyone, go to sleep and continue tomorrow morning, okay?Anne, what do you think? OK, whatever. The police helped me get a room in the motel, and Gary and Diane lived on the left and right of my room.Diane asked me if I needed someone to accompany me, and I immediately refused to talk to me late at night, calling me a sister.She also asked me what I would like to eat, but I had a few knots in my stomach and intestines, so I could only politely decline.I didn't want to turn on the TV and there was no phone in the room, so I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling until it got dark.I turn off the light.Just as I was about to fall asleep, I felt the darkness sinking down, and then I heard the creak of the door opening?Or is someone opening a window?I jumped out of bed, turned on the light quickly, but saw nothing.I grabbed a flat pillow, a blanket, and crawled into the closet with my backpack in my arms, falling asleep and waking up. The next morning, I heard the sound of the cleaning lady pushing the cleaning utensils in the hallway. A few minutes later, Diane knocked on my door, refreshed, with coffee and a muffin.She sat down on the edge of the bed, talking so loudly that I got a headache and ate every bite.She was in the room, and I didn't want to take a shower, so I just splashed water on my face, picked up the comb, and combed for about two seconds. She drove me back to the small interrogation room at the police station, where Gary was already sitting with a tray of Styrofoam coffee on the table.After Diane and I sat down, a beautiful young policewoman brought two notebooks and stole a few blushing glances at Gary.Gary glanced at her as he thanked her, then looked back.Disappointment radiated from her body as she walked out.He's wearing another handsome dark blue suit with silver pinstripes and a gray-blue shirt that echoes his gorgeous silver-streaked hair.I doubt he wished to underscore that by choosing the suit. Gary saw me staring into the mirror and said to me: No one's in there.And unless we ask for your consent, we will not record the interrogation process.I stared hard at the two-way mirror, hoping to see through it, and clutched my backpack with both hands. Go in and have a look yourself, won't you feel more at ease? His generosity surprised me.I looked at his face and decided that he was sincere in what he said, so there was no need to check it after thinking about it, so I shook my head. He first asked me to describe the process of my abduction in as much detail as possible.After each question, he would lean back in his chair, open his hands, and place them on the table.When it was my turn to answer, he would put his elbows on the table, tilt his head, and lean toward me. I tried to see patterns in his questions, but I couldn't predict the direction of his questions, and I couldn't even understand the connection of some questions.The hair at the nape of his neck was wet with sweat. I reconstructed the scene that day, describing the pervert's methods, the more I talked, the more my mouth became dry, my heart pounded in my chest, but I kept myself in check.I didn't break down until Gary told me that the police investigating the crime scene had found the psycho's body. He appeared to have been hit in the head.Did he die like this, Anne? I looked at him and then at Diane, hoping to read their minds.Gary's tone was non-accusatory, but I could feel the tension in the interrogation room. For some of the choices and behaviors I made in the hut, outsiders may have a different opinion, and only then did I know it was not good.The interrogation room got hot, and Diane's perfume choked uncomfortably in the small space.I don't know how Gary would feel if I spat on his designer suit.I look up at him. I killed him. Gary said: I must warn you now that there is no need for you to elaborate further.What you say may become evidence against you in court.You have the right to consult a lawyer, and also have the right to invite one to observe the interrogation process.If you cannot afford a lawyer, the police can provide a phone number so you can find a public defender.Do you understand? This sounds commonplace, and I don't think I will bear any legal responsibility, but I consider hiring a lawyer.The thought of talking to the man in the suit again and making the process longer made my head hurt again. learn. Don't you want to hire a lawyer?He asked casually, but I knew he didn't want me to get a lawyer. In no mood. Gary made a note.How do you do it? I took the ax and chopped the back of his head.The voice of these words echoed in the interrogation room, and I swear it was true.Even though it's deadly hot in here, my skin gets goose bumps.Gary looked right into my eyeballs, as if he wanted to read my mind, while I was busy tearing my Styrofoam glass to shreds. Did he attack you at that time? No. Then why did you kill him, Annie? I looked up to meet his gaze.Shit, what stupid question? Probably because he kidnapped me, beat me, raped me almost every night, and I stopped just in time so I wouldn't mention the baby. Wouldn't it be more comfortable to talk about this with Sergeant Buscher alone?Gary looked serious, waiting for my answer. I stared at them both, wanting to scratch Diane's look of pity.I knew I'd rather deal with Gary's blunt interrogation attitude than Diane's empathetic face. I shook my head, and Gary made another note.Then he leaned forward again, so close that I could smell the cinnamon in his mouth. When did you kill him?His volume is not high, but not soft. two days ago. Why don't you run away right away? Can't go. Why?Are you tied up?Gary tapped his fingers on the table again, tilting his head and asking. I don't mean that.I wanted to stand up and walk straight out, but the firmness in his tone pinned me firmly to the chair. Then why don't you go? I'm looking for something.Acid refluxed up my throat. what? My body grew colder, and Gary's silhouette blurred before my eyes. We found a basket, he said.Also find some baby clothes. The ceiling fan was wobbling and screaming, spinning and spinning, and I was worried for a moment whether the fan would fall and hit me on the head.There are no windows here, and I can't take a deep breath of air. Is there a baby, Anne? My head was throbbing.If I don't cry, I don't cry. Is there a baby, Annie?Gary wouldn't keep his dirty mouth shut. No. Was there ever a baby, Anne?His tone turned gentle. yes. Where is the baby now? she my baby.died. I'm so sorry, Annie.His tone was still gentle, gentle, and low, sounding like he genuinely cared.It's a pity.How did your baby die?He was the first to mourn, the first to express regret for her death.I looked at the styrofoam cup that I had torn to shreds.Someone answered him, but I don't think it was me who spoke. She just doesn't know me. Gary then asked in a very gentle tone, and I cling to that peace.He asked: Where is her body, Anne? It was the stranger's voice that answered again.I woke up with the baby in his hands.she died.I don't know where he took the baby, he won't say.I searched everywhere, everywhere.Make sure your brother finds it, will you?Please, help me find her, help me I lost my voice and couldn't continue. Gary's shoulders were stiff, his bronzed face was flushed, his jaw was clenched, and he was clenching his fists on the table as if he wanted to punch someone.At first I thought he was mad at me, but then I learned he was targeting a psycho.Diane's eyes sparkled in the fluorescent light.The four walls closed towards me, I was sweating all over, and I wanted to cry out in my throat, but I couldn't breathe, so the crying accumulated in my throat, strangling my trachea.I tried to stand up, but the interrogation room was on one side, so I lowered my backpack and grabbed the back of the chair, which started to slide.My ears groaned. Diane rushed to my side and slowly helped me to lie down.I ended up laying on the ground with my head on her chest and letting her wrap her arms around me.The more I try to inhale, the tighter my throat tightens.I'm dying on the cold floor. Crying and choking, I pushed Diane's hand away, trying to break free from her embrace, but the more I struggled, the tighter she hugged me.I heard screams and realized it was me.I was powerless to stop the screaming, and could only hear it bounce off the walls, echoing in my head. Coffee and muffins flew up and spilled on Diane and me.She still won't let me go.I rest my head on her tits and smell the warm smell of vanilla biscuits.Gary knelt down in front of us and said something I couldn't hear.Diane rocked me back and forth, and I tried to break free, to take back my autonomy, but my body and mind wouldn't cooperate.I lay on the ground, crying and screaming. The screaming finally stopped, but I felt so cold, and the voices of everyone talking seemed to be far away in the sky.Diane whispered: It will be all right, Anne, you are safe now. What nonsense.I wanted to tell her that I was never going to be okay or safe, but my lips froze when I tried to speak.Then Gary got a new pair of feet, and I heard someone say: She's hyperventilating.Anne, this is Dr. Berg.Try taking a few deep breaths.But I can't breathe.I can't remember a single thing after that.