The Red Side is Always Blocking My Dog ​​leash

Will stood at the door for a while, not seeing any noise inside.

He was originally going to the FBI headquarters today to help solve a burglary murder case—

Delevingne's case has been handed over to other departments, apparently it has nothing to do with the criminal profile—

But the fact that the message sent to Arnold yesterday has not been answered has caused him to care for no reason, and several text messages this morning have not been answered without exception.

He had a bad feeling.

After noon, Will took a leave of absence from Jack and drove back to Virginia, not home but to Franklin.

He needs to confirm Arnold's situation.

Hanging up the phone that indicated that the other party was off, Will gave up waiting, turned halfway, and knocked open the door with his shoulder.

Fortunately, Arnold's house did not have a security door installed.

There was a faint smell of blood.

Will often accompanies them and is therefore very sensitive to smells. His vision blurred for a moment, and then he felt dizzy.

He was in poor condition, in fact, he had only recovered from a high fever not long ago, and had a memory fault condition very early on.

Headaches, dizziness, hallucinations, sleepwalking, and memory breakdowns. He thought it was a physical problem, but after Hannibal took him to the hospital for a checkup, the doctor gave you the conclusion that everything was fine.

is a mental illness.

Will thought he could digest everything, but it turned out not to be the case.

In the last case, he even regarded himself as a prisoner, and when he reenacted the murder scene, he lost his temper and destroyed the crime scene.

This has never happened before, and his condition may have gotten worse.

Now is not the time to think about that.

He held on to the door frame, and his vision soon returned to normal. Will continued to walk in and took a few steps to the living room.

"Uh..." The black cross was clinging to the wall, and there were large areas of oxidized and dried blood on the ground.

With his excellent investigative skills, Will easily determined that the blood cross on the wall was deliberately painted by someone, and the long nails embedded in the wall on both sides of the cross arm were still connected to human muscle tissue, which proved that someone had been nailed to it.

And it was nailed after death.

Preliminary estimates of the blood at the scene are two-thirds the blood volume of adults, and there may be more for juveniles.

There are tiny traces at the bottom of the wall half a meter high, as well as bloodstains on the flowers, which means that someone has been sitting there.

The blood on the ground also spread from this center, so the victim was sitting there when he died, and was nailed to the wall by the prisoners.

There was also a row of **** footprints on the ground leading to the bathroom.

Did the prisoner take a shower after the murder?

No, not right.

There was a tingling in the brain, and Will stared at the two nails in the wall.

The victim struggled off the wall by herself and went to the bathroom?

Of course this is not possible!

Hemorrhagic shock occurs when one third of a person's blood is lost. Without supplementation, there is no doubt that they will die. A victim who loses two thirds of the blood is unlikely to be alive.

What about his body?

There must be some connection between the murderer and the two previous imitators, and they may be one person. But whether it was or not, he had no reason to take the body away.

The murderer wants her to be found—

"I thought you were still at work? Will, why are you here all of a sudden?"

"What?" Will was breathing heavily as if he had just woken up from a dream. He felt a huge heart palpitations and was covered in cold sweat.

Looking around quickly, his retinas reflected a familiar scene, and he looked at the person who opened the door, "Doctor Lecter."

This is the waiting room at the Hannibal Clinic.

"Come in first." Hannibal returned to the office and poured a glass of water for Will who came in behind him. "Your memory is broken again."

"Yeah, well, again." Will put down the glass, buried his face in his hands, and took a deep breath.

"I think I need to get in touch with Jack."

"Aren't you in the FBI? What happened before the memory fragment?"

"I took time off from Jack because... because Arnold didn't reply, not once, and I was a little worried."

Will raised his face, looking calmer. "Then I went to his house and saw...I'll contact Jack first."

He dialed Jack, who hasn't picked up yet. Hannibal looked serious. "What did you see? I think I should have the right to know what happened to my patient."

"Okay, okay—a blood cross, painted on the wall, with blood from yesterday."

"Then?"

"Two nails, nailed to a cross, and dried meat—Jack? Listen to me, send someone from the Trace Analysis Department to this place in Franklin. Someone was killed. The culprit was a copycat of the Eastern Killer."

Cases don't happen one by one as in the story, and the FBI doesn't handle just one case at a time.

In fact, they were still devastated by the escaped Gideon, and the Oriental Killer, who had just been imprisoned, was in trouble again.

imitator...

Gideon was also a copycat of the Chesapeake Ripper. But he was under the influence of people who thought he was the Chesapeake Ripper to commit the crime, and he fled because he realized it. So it was decided to kill every psychiatrist who came into contact with him.

People from the Trace Analysis Department arrived at Arnold's house with a team of armed men along with Will and Hannibal.

There are no dead bodies.

Hannibal's eyes darkened.

Take photos, search for evidence, and deal with the scene.

The identification result came out soon. The blood here is indeed Mr. A's. The FBI collected his DNA, fingerprints and other information in the hospital. After comparison, it can be confirmed that it is the person.

"Have you notified the family?" After asking aloud, there was no reply, Jack looked at the only person in the room, "Will?"

Will has called Boston Hepburn. "No answer."

It may be that they can't get in touch, but judging from yesterday's performance, Hepburn's concern for Arnold should not be left at home alone for a long time.

Jack: "The East Killer is the possibility of a team..."

"It's a copycat," he affirmed.

"You don't look good."

"What? No, of course, I'm fine, I'm just… sad." Will quickly denied. "I know what I'm doing, and I know who I am."

Just like several previous imitation crimes, the FBI did not get any useful clues and could only put it down temporarily.

"It's ten-twenty-three at night, I'm Will Graham, I'm in Virginia, Wolfchapp..."

This is the advice Hannibal gave him. Paying more attention to what time, who he is, and where he is can help him better grasp the anchor of reality and not get lost in fantasy.

The caller bell rang at this moment.

Will hits the brakes, pulls the car to the side of the road, and picks up the phone.

boston hepburn calling

He took a breath and pressed the answer, "Hello?"

A man's puzzled voice came from inside: "Excuse me, do you have anything to do with me? Sorry, because I work at night, it is difficult to reply in time during the day."

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it's me...

Will squeezed his dull forehead and tried to answer in a calm voice, "I'm Will Graham, FBI Special Agent, Mr. Hepburn, please stay calm, I have to regret to inform you... 11:10 this afternoon. The FBI found in Franklin..."

"Your friend, Mr. Arnold Taylor's whereabouts is unknown. There is a lot of blood on the scene. It may have been unexpected."

"Uh…"

"Mr. Hepburn?"

"uh, yes." The other party's calm voice came from the phone, "Is there anything I need to cooperate with? Mr. Detective."

The screen is covered with spider web-like cracks, and Bourbon almost pinched the phone off. His ability to control emotions is not bad. But after a brief silence, he could only respond with a cold attitude.

The mask of maintaining calm has done its best, and there is no other energy to maintain Hepburn's character.

He hung up the phone the moment he got a negative answer from the agent, with only one thought in his mind.

impossible.

how can that be?

That person...that Montes...A he...

That's right, no matter how powerful or difficult that person is in the future, he is just a teenager now. He has taught him personally and knows that A is not much different from ordinary people except for his marksmanship.

What's more, he was injured in the shoulder and had no usable weapons in his hands.

There is a possibility of being killed by someone, but A has been in this country for less than ten days, and there is no chance of enmity with anyone at all. Who would break into the house and kill A?

It's not reasonable...

But it was also an accident that A was targeted by Byron.

He should have left A with a gun... no, it's dangerous to have a weapon with one arm immobile, and he shouldn't have left.

Not leaving the weapon is to be wary that the FBI may go to search, and he has no reason to stay.

The agent just said that his whereabouts are unknown, that he may encounter unexpected events, and that there is also the possibility of being alive, and maybe even the FBI deceived...

With that kind of blood loss, there is no hope of survival. If the FBI wanted to use the lie of A's death to lure him into the bait, it would have been impossible for the FBI to say nothing on the phone just now.

Bourbon took a few breaths and finally cleared the chaotic thoughts in his mind.

calm…

He closed his sore eyes.

When opened again it was normal.

People who can become undercover have psychological qualities that are unmatched by ordinary people. They maintain their original intentions in the life of being in the dark for many years, and they remain silent when their companions die or even have to shoot at them.

Bourbon is one of the best.

He quickly calmed down.

The blond man smiled again, his fingertips smoothed a fold on the dark vest, and the blue gemstones inlaid with the Poirot knot at the neckline reflected a warm light. He left the toilet and returned to the chaos of the crowd.

The smoke purple to the eyes is like a hunting falcon, and all the movements of the target are captured in the eyes.

A has poured cold water on him this time - he is overconfident.

Because I have experienced it once, because I know what will happen in the future. Therefore, no matter how cautious he was, he still held a contemptuous attitude.

This is the price. a heavy price.

The child who should have had the chance to laugh in the sun has slept forever in the dark.

The cause of death is even so inexplicable.

it's me…

killed him...