"That Christmas Eve was the happiest Christmas of my life, and I will never forget it. All the students from the special training class celebrated Christmas for me in the pine woods. I didn't come in through the school gate—I didn't want to be questioned by the gatekeeper in a wheelchair just days after being expelled. So, right outside the pine woods, at the spot where Marcus Hamilton and Christopher Brooks and I always climbed over the wall, at nine o'clock that night, Marcus Hamilton carried me on his back and climbed in. Everyone was waiting for me there. We sang together, and they danced around me..."

At this moment, William Williams's tone slowed, his eyes narrowed slightly, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. The scene from that night seemed vivid before his eyes. Fiona Bennett was full of suspicion, but she held back from interrupting him.

"I remember it very clearly—it was a Wednesday. The last Wednesday mentioned in this meeting letter, I believe, was the 24th, Christmas Eve, and the pavilion for the dead is just fifty steps north, very close to where we gathered. Fiona Bennett, you said earlier that around nine that Christmas Eve, you saw Susan Wright running out of the pine woods, looking lost. That fits. Everything matches up. Hey, that guy, this move was really clever."

"Can you explain it a bit more clearly? I still don't quite understand."

"Susan Wright mentioned meeting several times in her letters, a bit too eagerly, so the killer must have been suspicious. I was there because of Susan Wright's jump from the building. At that time, I still hated her, so when everyone threw me a party, they definitely wouldn't have told Susan Wright. The killer set such a time and place for the meeting—if the person corresponding with him wasn't Susan Wright, there would have been a reply questioning it. But if it really was Susan Wright, then... it turned out just as you saw that night. Susan Wright saw the whole class there and immediately realized she was exposed, so she looked so hopeless and desperate."

"So you saw Susan Wright that day too?"

William Williams frowned, recalling, "I was being carried over the wall, and when we were at the highest point, I think I saw someone running away in the woods. Now that I think about it, that must have been Susan Wright."

"Then could it be... could the person who suggested the party be the killer?"

"Not necessarily, maybe it was just convenient. And I don't know who suggested it. I was in a bad mood at the time, and three classmates called me one after another to persuade me before I agreed. Hmm, those three were Christopher Brooks, Marcus Hamilton, and Winnie Hayes."

"I know Christopher Brooks and Marcus Hamilton were the closest to you among the classmates, but Winnie Hayes?"

"She liked me," William Williams said, "though she never confessed."

"So, did the whole class go that night, except for Susan Wright?"

William Williams nodded.

"No, you forgot me." Fiona Bennett looked downcast. "I didn't go, and I didn't know about it. Maybe I never really fit into this class."

William Williams was taken aback and comforted her, "You didn't know me back then, so it's normal they didn't invite you."

"That night, everyone was gone, the dorm was empty. I thought everyone was off celebrating Christmas on their own—I never expected this. You know, at dinner that day, I was watching a movie with Frank Bishop, and then he said he was going to see his sick mother. So he was actually going to your party." Fiona Bennett gave a self-deprecating smile.

"Maybe he thought it was inconvenient to bring you, so he just didn't tell you. Or maybe... he really is a suspect."

"But he didn't kill Gabriel Adams, and he can't be suspect B. Handwriting analysis aside, during Susan Wright's last days, I was in a passionate relationship with him—we were together whenever we had time. In that situation, he couldn't have poisoned Susan Wright. William Williams, if you had to say, just by intuition or a random guess, who do you think is most suspicious?"

William Williams seemed to be thinking. Fiona Bennett felt he probably had a name in mind, but in the end, he shook his head and said, "Don't guess like that—it'll mislead you, and it'll mislead me too. There's one thing I can't figure out: Susan Wright never seemed to consider calling the police from beginning to end. If, when you called the police, she denied it because she had her own plan and wanted to find the killer herself, well, that's strange enough, but at least it's a plan. But on Christmas Eve, her plan completely fell apart. Her health was terrible, her life was even in danger, and yet she still didn't call the police."

As William Williams spoke, he shook his head repeatedly, unable to understand.

Fiona Bennett naturally didn't understand either. Whether it was her or William Williams (Bells), at this moment, their understanding of Susan Wright was still just the tip of the iceberg.

That day, the two of them talked until eleven at night.

When Fiona Bennett left, William Williams said, "For the next investigation, I think you shouldn't show up anymore. With Frank Bishop's signature and your psychiatric records, you could be forcibly sent to a mental hospital for treatment at any time. He's definitely trying hard to find you."

"No." Fiona Bennett firmly refused.

"Don't worry about my legs. My daily mobility is almost the same as a normal person now."

"No, it's not about your legs. You're involved because of Susan Wright, but me—actually, it's for Gabriel Adams. I will never hide behind others again."

She smiled at William Williams, "We're partners. Welcome aboard."

3

If time could go back, I think I wouldn't have made this choice.

It's now 5:30 p.m. on April 3rd. I'm crouched at the edge of the rooftop of a thirty-six-story building, looking down. In a few minutes, that girl will walk out of the school gate and head east along the street below. This is the best spot to see her entire route home. Distance isn't a problem—I can see her expression when she talks to her classmates, the smile at the corner of her mouth, the strands of hair fluttering in the wind, even the fine fuzz on her neck, all clearly.

There she is, coming out of the school gate.

I really wish I could go back to March 1st. That day, I stopped an old man with white hair to ask to be his apprentice, because he had just jumped down from the roof of the sixth floor. I found out he was secretly watching a pretty girl from our school, and later, I realized he was a neighbor who had moved away a few months ago—someone my own age.

From that day on, I entered a world that should have only existed in fantasy. Every night, I could enter another dimension of this world through my dreams. There, I fought monsters with many people like me, to prevent them from breaking through the dimension into this world. Gradually, I gained incredible powers, enough to fulfill all a man's vanity and dreams—or so I thought. I could protect this world, and of course, protect the one I loved. Summoning auspicious clouds and such—it's not hard for me now. By the time I realized I couldn't be with her, it was too late. In fact, on April 10th, I had to choose to drop out of school.

Every night in my dreams, I have to stay for the time it takes this planet to orbit its star once—a year.

I can probably live for more than two hundred years. If I confessed now and she accepted, then her boyfriend, who mysteriously disappears every night, would be old and gray by early autumn, and die before New Year's Eve.

I can only become someone like that neighbor, using the little time I have to intersect with this world, watching from afar. That's all.

I watch her walk down the street, turn into the alley leading to her home, and three little punks who had been following her also turn in. I jump down from the rooftop, looking for an angle the surveillance cameras can't catch. After a few leaps between buildings, I slam the one reaching out to touch her face against the wall. The other two, before they could decide what to do, I threw onto the cement platform on the third floor nearby. I smiled at her and turned to leave.

"Have I seen you before?" I heard her call from behind.

I waved my hand and walked out of the alley.

Note: This section was written in the blank space of Chapter 8, "Identification of Criminal Suspects," in "Criminal Investigation Psychology."

Fiona Bennett felt a little sad.

Every time she saw these stories written in the corners of books, she felt a little sad.

Gabriel Adams, Gabriel Adams. She thought, if back then he hadn't gone to the police academy to become a cop, but had gone to study Chinese literature at university—or even if he hadn't, if he had just written these stories properly and turned them into books—maybe she would have felt differently about him. Back then, her standard for judging whether a man was worth dating, worth entrusting herself to, was so simple it was almost laughable.

But no, that wouldn't have been Gabriel Adams.

This love was destined to be in vain.

In the place where Gabriel Adams once lived, Fiona Bennett was easily distracted.

A person's presence, after they leave this world, still lingers in some places, more or less. It's hard to explain scientifically—it's just a feeling.

Fiona Bennett smiled at Mrs. Adams across from her, but Mrs. Adams's smile was a bit forced. Fiona Bennett knew that when she zoned out just now, she probably missed a few sentences. She felt there was some regret in Mrs. Adams's eyes, and Mr. Adams's face was stern, not very happy. How long had she been lost in thought? Fiona Bennett wondered. She shouldn't think about Gabriel Adams now—acting like this was too rude to the people in front of her.