Chapter 66

After what happened to Alan, I kept having dreams about him. I'd dream about falling into an ice pit, getting old and frail, and the kids at the orphanage.

Why did people dream? Scientists claimed it was because the brain was all hyped up. But honestly, that kind of explanation felt like a whole lot of nothing. It was like so many things in life; you thought you understood, but you were just pretending, and everyone went on like that. They called it "Ignorance is bliss."

But I don't want to be like that. I figured my dreams were because I was super anxious, tangled up in the messy case details, mad at myself for not being able to do more, and... missing Alan, grieving for him.

When I went to Lally's place the second time and saw her letter and those old photos, I wasn't scared at all when the truth started to come out.

Actually, I felt calmer. Maybe it was the strength Alan gave me, or maybe it was just the relief of finally seeing the truth.

So, I didn't dream that night. I slept straight through till morning, and when I groggily checked the clock on my nightstand, it was 9:15.

It was the best sleep I'd had in ages. Zoey was sprawled out on the bed, half uncovered. She never slept properly. I pulled the blanket over her again.

"Hot," Zoey mumbled, squirming a bit, her mouth slightly open like she was about to say something, but she was out cold again in a second.

Zoey was always like this when she crashed at my place, sleeping like a log, impossible to wake up. Sometimes, she'd wake up just before lunch, lured by the smell from the kitchen, and then she'd rush to help, all embarrassed.

I had no idea how she managed to wake up for work usually. But today was Saturday, so I let her sleep in.

I tiptoed out of the bedroom with the photos and letters Lally left, sat on the couch in the living room, and started going through the photos one by one.

The last three photos were probably kept by the person who hurt Lally as a threat, but Lally secretly took them and hid them, always holding on to her hope for justice.

The key was in the first three photos, one of which showed a child trafficking camp, which Lally called the orphanage.

The yard in the photo didn't look special. It was probably taken from the gate, showing a wide view. The key was the location, but the photo was black and white, too blurry to make out the surroundings.

The only thing visible was the buildings behind the yard, one on each side. The black and white photo made it hard to see, but the light contrast suggested the buildings were really run-down, probably abandoned.

Otherwise, their activities wouldn't have stayed hidden for so long. They likely picked a remote spot far from the city, somewhere people rarely went.

But according to Lally, that place wasn't too far from Sand Village. I guessed it was no more than 6.2 miles away.

Over a decade ago, even though Sand Village started to decline with the steel plant moving and Silverlight City growing, it was still a busy place with lots of people. There shouldn't have been such a deserted spot within 6.2 miles.

Where could this place be?

Just then, Zoey shuffled out of the bedroom in her pink pajamas, rubbing her eyes and looking half-asleep. "Mrs. Smith, should we go downstairs for breakfast later?" she asked.

I replied, "It's Saturday, no work today. Get some more sleep. What do you want to eat? I'll bring it up for you."

Zoey shook her head, yawning. "Mrs. Smith, is your phone on silent mode?"

I always set my phone to silent before bed to avoid work interruptions. Anything could wait until morning, but poor sleep really messed with my work efficiency.

I was puzzled. "Yeah, why?"

"Last night, I think I woke up and heard your phone vibrating. I thought I was dreaming." Zoey handed me my phone. "There are a lot of missed calls, no names saved. You should check it out, Mrs. Smith."

I remembered leaving my phone charging on Zoey's dressing table last night and hadn't checked it this morning.

There were 23 missed calls, all between 2:40 and 3:00 AM. Who could be trying to reach me so late?

I exited the call log and saw three unread messages.

[Mrs. Smith, it's Tony. Are you free tomorrow? We need to meet. Lally is missing. I can't find her anywhere, but I know where she is. Only you can save her now.]

[Please, save her... You don't know what she's been through.]

[Can we talk now? Lally said you left too quickly that day, and there were many things she didn't tell you. Lally is gone. I've thought about it. I trust you. This secret can't be hidden anymore. He's a madman. Both of them are madmen!]

He started calling me shortly after sending the messages.

Tony knew where Lally was?

I suddenly realized they might still be connected to the child traffickers from back then, and these people might still be controlling him!

Tony was desperate to tell me the truth from back then, and he was so anxious because those people might have found him!

I quickly called back, but no one answered.

Damn it! Tony must have been at home at that time, and he was so desperate to call, he must have anticipated some danger!

These missed calls were made one after another, and they stopped abruptly at 3:00 AM. Could something have happened to him?

I asked, "Zoey, is your car at home?"

"Yes, let's go together!" Zoey didn't ask why, just seeing my expression after looking at the phone, she instantly reacted!

I said, "Okay, let's head to Sand Village immediately!"

Zoey asked, "Is it Tony?"

I replied, "Yes! Hurry, I'll explain on the way!"

We quickly changed clothes and rushed downstairs to the underground garage.

With the roar of the engine, the red Porsche sped out of the garage.

I sat in the passenger seat, explaining that Tony might be in danger while calling Tom.

I said, "Hello? Tom?"

Tom asked, "Hello, who is this?"

I replied, "It's Nancy!"

Tom said, "Nancy, I've already said, I don't want to recall that case anymore."

I said, "Zack, stop pretending. Tony probably had an accident last night. Do you know anything about this? You, Tony, Lally and Frank. What are you hiding from me? Tell me now!"

There was silence on the other end.

Then I added, "Zack, say something. He's your brother!"

Tom replied, "You... should stop investigating."

The call was disconnected.