Chapter 26

Benjamin shot me a message in the evening: [We gotta hit up the Entertainment Club at 1 PM tomorrow for an on-site inspection.]

When I got back, I wanted to chat more with Anna to get a better grip on the situation. But then I thought, grilling her too much about her relationship with Tony might make him suspicious. For now, it was best to play it cool.

One thing was for sure, though-Tony had a hunch something was gonna go down four years ago. He took out a big insurance policy so if anything happened to him, his mom Tammy would be set for life.

But whether this tied into the arson and murder at the Entertainment Club? That was just a wild guess. I got no solid proof.

Right now, the big thing was figuring out the deal between Tony and Lally, and how Tammy fitted into all this. Why did Tammy and Lally lie in court to frame Laura?

But honestly, that was not my biggest worry.

The weekend was approaching again. I was supposed to head back last week, but I got caught up investigating after Alan's incident and found an excuse not to go. This Saturday, no matter what, I gotta go home. How should I explain to my dad why Alan didn't come with me?

Once or twice was fine, but over time, he would eventually find out. How was I supposed to explain this to my dad?

I drifted off and dreamed about ten years ago.

I was walking alone on Laurel Street, where Alan and I used to hang out in college. There was the BBQ joint, the coffee shop, and the Mexican place Alan loved. I called out Alan's name, but no one answered.

Suddenly, I was back in the present, in a heavy snowstorm. Silverlight City had changed so much, with tall buildings and endless lights. On the street where Alan had his accident, I broke down, crying my heart out. It felt like my mom was there, gently patting my back like she did when I was a kid, "Nancy, don't be scared. This too shall pass."

"Mom, Alan..." I called out their names. In a flash, I was at the bottom of a well, unable to climb out. The floodwater surged in from the well's opening, chilling me to the bone. I could barely breathe, like I was suffocating. Facing despair and loneliness, I slowly closed my eyes. It was over; I was so tired of holding on.

I didn't know how much time passed, but suddenly I heard the most familiar voice from the past decades, "Sleep a bit more, Nancy. It's still early."

I jolted awake on the couch, gasping for air, looking around for familiar faces.

It was eight in the morning. The bedroom and study doors were shut tight. Memories of recent times rushed back-it was just a dream.

People were most vulnerable and sensitive when they first woke up. But ever since Alan's incident, I forced myself every morning to sift through the info I had and focus on the case.

My face was wet. Was the ceiling leaking? I looked up; no cracks. I looked down at the pillow on the couch, already soaked. I touched my face.

I had cried in my dream.

The living room wasn't as cold this morning. I thought the temperature had gone up, but when I checked my phone, it showed 41 degrees Fahrenheit. Silverlight City had started heating today, and there was a reminder to dress warmly.

I touched the radiator in the living room; it was definitely heating up. I remembered my dad reminding me to pay the heating bill a few days ago. He must have checked the payment app and reminded me. I told him I was too busy and had forgotten. It seemed he had already paid it for me.

Parents in this world were always thinking about their children. Although I didn't have children myself, as I grew older, I gradually came to understand my parents' good intentions.

It turned out I was not alone; I had my father, friends, and a very congenial apprentice.

The doorbell rang, and I remembered I had an appointment with Zoey to meet at my place at 8:30 AM so we could head to the police station together.

I opened the door, and there was Zoey, wearing a thick white camel hair coat, holding a big package in one hand and breakfast in the other, smiling at me.

In her more than six months of internship, she had visibly matured. On her first day at the company, she had short hair, wore trendy streetwear, denim shorts, and sneakers, full of youthful energy.

Six months later, Zoey had grown her hair out and dressed more elegantly. Howard joked that she was becoming another Nancy, with a similar temperament, style, and even fashion sense.

Looking at the apprentice I had mentored, or rather, my little sister, I felt a warmth in my heart and quickly let her in. "Zoey, you look beautiful today."

"Mrs. Smith, you look even better today! Keep it up!" Zoey replied with a grin.

This was our unique way of greeting each other every morning. Zoey had suggested it, saying that "Good morning" was too old-fashioned. She insisted I say, "Zoey, you look beautiful today," and she would reply, "Mrs. Smith, you look even better today."

Material things could not bestow the true meaning of life. It was always the small, unnoticed places where seeds were sown, like wildflowers growing by the roadside or a green plant in the desert, that brought some vitality to a harsh and unforgiving life.

Zoey wasn't visiting my home for the first time. She saw the bedding on the living room couch, glanced at the closed bedroom and study doors, and noticed my slightly swollen eyes. She quickly understood, her eyes showing a hint of sadness, and her eyes reddened. Without saying anything, she cheerfully took out the large package she had brought.

"Mrs. Smith, winter is coming. My mom brought me two blankets from abroad a few days ago."

She pulled out a thick, colorful blanket from the package and handed it to me, making a funny face. "Two blankets would be too hot. I'm giving you one to keep you warm in the winter."

Before I could refuse, she turned and went to the kitchen, wiping her tears as she took out two sets of utensils from the cabinet and served breakfast. She put half a spoon of sugar in my bowl. I like half a spoon of sugar in my milk, and Zoey knew that.

When Alan was around, she often came over for meals on weekends and sometimes stayed over.

For some reason, my eyes welled up with tears.

"Mrs. Smith, hurry up and eat. Look at you, it's just breakfast, no need to get so emotional." Zoey was smiling as she broke the bread for me, but tears were streaming down her face.

People needed to rest, and emotions needed to rest too. In the presence of someone they trusted, they didn't have to be overly strong. They could confide, seek comfort, and take a temporary truce with life or fate.

Zoey said, "Mrs. Smith, don't be sad. I'll always be with you. Alan wouldn't want you to be sad either..." As she spoke, she couldn't hold back her own tears and started crying.

Later, when I recalled this morning, I couldn't remember if I had cried, but I clearly remembered gently patting Zoey's back, just like my mother used to do for me, and whispering, "Zoey, don't be afraid. It will all pass."