Eldritch Horror Theatre

Jones clearly felt the same way.

Hearing the voice clearly over the Walkie-Talkie, he froze for a few seconds, not expecting news so soon.

"Where is it?"

"On the bridge heading up The Mountain."

The person on the other end replied quickly.

"Stay right there... wait, I'm coming over immediately!"

Jones muttered to himself at first, then roared into the device.

"You guys come along too."

He glanced at Fu Qian and the other two, issuing a direct order.

Ray and Fran clearly didn't want to disobey him either, and the three of them piled into the car.

Without wasting a second, Jones drove swift as wind and lightning straight toward the location reported by the police.

"What happened to Harold?"

In the silence of the car, Fran, sitting next to Fu Qian, kept her voice extremely low, practically mouthing the question.

To her knowledge, Harold was a victim whose wife had been attacked. Yet it sounded as if the police were hunting him down—a situation she found hard to wrap her head around.

"Him—"

Even though Fran's voice was quiet, Fu Qian noticed both Jones and Ray instantly perk up their ears.

"You aren't married yet, so you wouldn't understand."

He gave a faint smile, his expression unfathomable.

"As everyone knows, no matter how unusually a wife disappears, the husband must always be kept under surveillance."

...

Fran was rendered speechless. Jones merely snorted, abandoning his scrutiny through the rearview mirror.

Ray's expression was complicated; he looked slightly disappointed.

Amid this subtle atmosphere, the greenery ahead grew thicker.

"Shit!"

With an angry curse and the sharp screech of brakes, Jones steered the car right into a clearing by the side of the road.

More than one car was already parked there.

Before their vehicle even came to a complete halt, Jones impatiently threw open his door and jumped out to assess the chaotic scene ahead.

A seemingly familiar blue car had smashed through the bridge's guardrail and plunged into the deep ditch below. At a glance, the vehicle's body was already severely deformed.

A group of people had scrambled down the slope. Several police officers were struggling to pry the car door open to drag the driver out.

"What happened?"

Jones rushed forward with a cold expression, arriving just in time to see Harold, his forehead covered in blood.

"I don't know. We had just arrived and were still confirming the situation when this guy suddenly accelerated, smashed right through the railing, and flipped down here."

The young police officer they had met earlier looked completely baffled.

"But at least we caught him. His luck is pretty good. Dropping from such a height, he somehow avoided severe injuries..."

Caught him...

Jones snorted, showing no joy whatsoever.

"Was he alone in the car? Are you sure he was the one driving?"

"Of course."

The officer was clearly a little confused by the questions.

"He was dragged straight out of the driver's seat. There's no mistake about that."

"And from beginning to end, we didn't see anyone else run out."

...

Jones made no comment. Instead, he gestured for the people checking Harold's injuries to stop and crouched down himself.

After all the poking and prodding, Harold had actually opened his eyes.

"You were driving? Why are you here?"

"I... I don't know."

Harold's eyes were hazy. It took him a moment to compose himself and recognize Jones.

"When I woke up, it was like I subconsciously stepped on the gas. I didn't even notice where I was."

When he woke up?

Jones narrowed his eyes, staring coldly at Harold for several seconds.

Then he grabbed the man by the hair, eliciting a miserable shriek.

The watching police officers wore complicated expressions, but they could all tell Jones was in a foul mood, so no one stepped in to stop him.

Jones turned a deaf ear to Harold's screams. He simply examined the man's neck closely, quickly discovering what looked like a needle mark.

"What's their name?"

Jones didn't let go, his tone icy.

"What person?"

Harold looked completely bewildered.

"What! Is! Their! Name!"

Jones suddenly roared, hauling Harold straight up by his hair.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I was just at home, and when I woke up, I was like this! I don't know anything about another person!"

Harold's voice was filled with terror.

The guy was clearly banking on the fact that no corpse had been found, denying everything to the bitter end.

Jones glared at Harold with a murderous look in his eyes.

'Courting death!'

"This man is badly hurt. Find him a place and give him a thorough physical examination."

Seeing that the usually submissive Harold was remaining completely stubborn, Jones gave a cold sneer and simply tossed him aside.

"What's going on? Just who is this person?"

Ray, who had been standing to the side, finally couldn't help but ask in a low voice.

"Was there a hidden reason behind the car crashing just now?"

"I'm curious about that as well."

Jones didn't directly answer Ray; instead, his gaze roamed over the man's face.

"Perhaps your missing friends know the answer."

Cartman and Jessica...

Recalling his two friends, Ray's expression stiffened.

...

On the way back from inspecting the scene, Jones was clearly in a foul mood.

They had found zero valuable clues inside the wrecked car.

Everything made it look as though Harold had been fleeing and, upon being spotted by the police, had gunned the engine out of sheer panic—nothing more.

But in Jones's view, this was merely a superficial explanation. Combined with his previous speculations, there could be a completely different interpretation of the scene:

After Harold clashed with the mysterious killer at home, he was drugged and brought here.

Then, the mysterious figure placed him in the driver's seat and deliberately let the police find him.

Waking up at that exact moment to find himself surrounded by police, Harold's guilty conscience drove him to subconsciously flee, leading straight to the accident.

Jones even suspected the car itself had been tampered with.

It was just a pity that Harold was so incredibly lucky, somehow surviving a fall into such a deep ditch.

Even more of a pity was that, despite the ordeal, Harold was still courting death.

Upon realizing he wasn't dead, he actually chose to play completely dumb.

Amid his thoughts, Jones parked in front of the group's red car and glanced at Ray.

"Take your things and leave."

...

"I've said it already. You can go wherever you want. You can even go back to The Mountain to continue your vacation."

When Ray didn't answer right away, Jones continued in a tone that left absolutely no room for negotiation.

'He's planning to use him directly as bait!'

Watching from the sidelines, Fu Qian observed with a sigh.

It was obvious Jones had little faith in conducting a carpet search for the mysterious figure.

And after being thwarted by Harold just now, his reaction had been very quick. It seemed he had immediately come up with the strategy of Waiting by the Stump for a Hare.

Having people take good care of Harold was one thing; kicking Ray out was an even more blatant lure.

"This..."

Ray swallowed hard. Realizing there was no room to maneuver, he resigned himself to his fate and opened the car door.

"I'm definitely not going back to The Mountain, but that's fine. I'll just live in my car."

He spoke in a resigned tone, actually looking less nervous than before.

"Anyway, as you wish, I'll leave once the guy is caught."

"Wait a minute."

However, before he could start the engine, someone grabbed hold of the car door.

Fran, who had remained silent the entire way back, took a deep breath, as if having made up her mind about something.

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