Eldritch Horror Theatre

In the light filtering through the window, Sheriff Jones was enveloped in a swirling cloud of smoke.

His tone was absolute, sounding exactly like a man who had already decided your guilt.

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

Fu Qian was never going to fall into the trap of desperately proving his innocence, so he simply smiled and returned the question.

As he spoke, he casually evaluated the man's equipment—a baton, but no gun.

If things couldn't be explained away, even with the sheriff on his guard, Fu Qian was confident he could knock him out and drive off before the people inside gave chase.

Of course, that was a worst-case scenario. It would severely limit his flexibility in future actions, and he wouldn't do it unless absolutely necessary.

Besides, one thing was clear from what the man had just asked.

The abnormal behavior of Cartman and the other two, along with the unusually clean car, definitely wasn't just his imagination.

Faced with Fu Qian's question, Jones kept his tone flat and wooden. He didn't even look at him directly.

"I might not have any other skills, but I have a very accurate eye for what a person is capable of."

"From the moment you walked through the door, I knew you were different from the rest of them."

"Only you could do something like that and still have the nerve to be a guest in a cop's house."

'Good eye! Is a man as dashing as myself truly this radiant everywhere he goes?'

Fu Qian mused inwardly.

But there was a problem with that logic: having the nerve to do it didn't mean he actually had.

"So the call you just took... someone was run over?"

Playing dumb in front of this kind of person was pointless.

Fu Qian nodded and pressed on naturally, his tone as casual as if they were chatting about the weather.

"I know what you're getting at."

Jones finally turned his head and stared at him.

"Everything requires evidence."

"Your performance is exceptional, though. Even the most deranged Thug I've ever seen didn't possess your absolute, chilling calmness. But unfortunately for you, your companions gave you away."

"I thought it was strange when you first walked in. I couldn't think of anything that would make a group of young people on vacation display that kind of subconscious guilt."

"So before I came out just now, I casually checked your car."

"Don't you think it's a little too clean for a car taking a long road trip?"

"And considering you just arrived today, your movements are basically crystal clear. It's incredibly easy to verify."

"Of course, if this turns out to be a misunderstanding and Mrs. Harold comes home on her own tonight, that would be for the best."

"Also, rest assured. Mary rarely gets this happy, and I don't want to spoil her fun. These things can wait until tomorrow. I'm getting older, and I can't quite pull all-nighters anymore."

Taking another drag, Sheriff Jones tossed the remaining half of his cigarette onto the ground and resumed his lazy posture.

"It's too dark, and the road back isn't safe. It would be best if you all stayed here tonight."

"Don't worry, there are plenty of guest rooms."

'He isn't giving me a chance to run, is he?'

'This guy is truly bold. Treating his own house like a detention center?'

Fu Qian looked at Jones, who was in no rush to go inside, and knew the man was making him walk in first.

'Isn't he afraid that if I really did run someone over, I'd get desperate and turn violent?'

Amid his musings, Fu Qian didn't waste words and stepped directly into the house.

Sharp, stubborn, and fiercely confident in their own judgment—this was the common affliction of old cops. There was no reasoning with him.

In truth, Fu Qian didn't mind this misunderstanding.

Having his every move watched meant that any action he took would be analyzed in detail.

This meant there would be plenty of opportunities later to guide the good sheriff into tracking down a certain someone named Lasik.

...

"What happened?"

The moment Fu Qian and Jones walked through the door one after the other, Mrs. Jones looked over immediately and asked with concern.

Of course, Cartman and the other two were equally concerned.

"It seems Harold's wife has gone missing."

Jones explained nonchalantly, heading straight to the fridge to grab something to eat.

"Ah!"

Mrs. Jones covered her mouth, clearly startled.

"How could that be! When did this happen?"

"Just today. Not long ago."

Jones looked completely indifferent.

"But Harold is obviously frantic. He was desperate for me to help find her."

"It's too late today, though, so he eventually took my advice to wait until tomorrow. Oh, right—"

Acting as if he had suddenly remembered something, Jones pointed at Cartman and the others.

"It's getting late, and the mountain road is dangerous. You all should stay the night."

"That sounds wonderful!"

Mrs. Jones clearly had the same intention. She looked extremely happy that her husband had offered it himself, turning to look warmly at her nephew.

"Then please stay. We have plenty of guest rooms."

...

It was obvious that while Fran didn't mind, Cartman and the other two were distinctly resistant to the idea.

However, they were still facing the same problem as before: they didn't have a good enough excuse to refuse.

Jones's words seemed casual, but they carried an undeniable aura of authority.

After a seamless exchange of glances among the clearly guilty trio, ultimately, none of them spoke up to decline.

As the prime suspect, Fu Qian didn't receive any special arrangements. Instead, he followed everyone upstairs and ended up in the room next to Fran's.

Even so, Fu Qian had no intention of sneaking away.

Doing so was neither necessary nor realistic.

First of all, he couldn't drive away, because starting the car would definitely wake everyone up.

And if he just relied on his own two feet, where could he run in this remote place? It would only prove his guilt.

As for turning violent out of desperation?

Jones seemed careless, but probably not a single rustling blade of grass in this house could escape his notice. Trying something like that was just a quick way to get himself killed.

Fu Qian analyzed all of this with relish, listening to the restless tossing and turning next door, filled with anticipation for tomorrow.

A capable helper like this was something you could only chance upon, not seek out.

...

Early the next morning, a much younger police officer drove over to pick up Jones, and Fu Qian saw the victim's family for the first time.

He was a somewhat dull-looking middle-aged man, not very tall, with a haggard expression. His clothes were wrinkled, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Without a doubt, Mrs. Harold had not come home last night.

Jones, who had just gotten out of bed, grabbed a portion of breakfast and sat directly in the car, simultaneously drafting Fu Qian and the other four as volunteers.

...

Mrs. Jones looked visibly resistant to this request, but seeing as the group, under Jones's intense gaze, once again offered no objections, she didn't push the issue.

In the end, she simply comforted everyone, telling them to relax and treat the trip as a chance to enjoy the scenery.

"Here, it's a bit cramped over there. Get in this car."

After Cartman and the other three got into the car one by one, Jones called out directly to Fu Qian, who was still standing outside.

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