CM The future I see without you

In the government's development blueprint, there will be a highway named 309 passing through the outskirts of the city. The foresighted residents have already chosen another residence, and the neighborhood is full of moving garbage and second-hand furniture waiting to be disposed of.

The small buildings along the road are empty, the cold wind blows through the hall, the sky is flickering and flickering in the solitude, the cypress trees outside have long been bald, and the dry branches shake slightly, leaving a few shadows on the white walls of the houses.

Emily got out of the car, nodded to the two police officers guarding the door, and walked around the bright yellow cordon into the hall.

The old air conditioner from the last century was humming, and the warm wind was blowing towards her face. She breathed a sigh of relief, took off her coat, and put it on the chair next to her.

This is an ordinary house that can no longer be ordinary. It almost conforms to the aesthetics of all middle-class families at the end of the last century. Plants, probably because no one has lived here for too long, the withered yellow-brown branches and leaves are covered with dust.

Like the wooden box hidden deep under the grandmother's bed, which is only opened once in a while for many years, it is full of pungent dust mite smell.

While looking at the surrounding decorations and ornaments, she heard the "squeak" sound of leather shoes squeezing against the dilapidated wooden stairs. She turned her head and saw Reid coming down from the second floor while taking off his gloves.

He said: "The room above should belong to a 16-year-old boy and his parents. Everything is still there. But depending on the situation, no one has lived here for at least [-] years."

As he spoke, he raised his chin slightly and pointed to the two cardboard boxes on the living room table, which were the letters he had sorted out 10 minutes ago.

One of the cartons contained letters home from Allen’s father from abroad, one letter per month. The content on it was boring, and in Emily’s view, it was nothing more than some interesting things abroad and longing for his wife and son. This man has to mention a word to tell his wife to visit his elderly father more.

Emily quickly glanced at the top two or three letters, and she probably knew the contents behind. When she turned to the end of the box, except for a simple and clear condolence letter from the military, the rest were letters from Allen's father's comrades-in-arms. Compared with the official Condolences, it is obvious that the few words of those rough guys are more sincere.

The other cardboard box was filled with notices of water and power outages, and even people from the tax bureau would stop sending letters here.

Emily frowned and said: "Garcia found out that Allen Muhammad's father was a soldier and served outside all year round, and his mother was a salesperson in a department store. The Conservation Society accused domestic violence three times, but unfortunately the government was unable to take action due to Allen's non-cooperation."

"It's no different from what Campbell gave us in the first place," Reid said.

Emily shook her head and continued, "When Allen was 13, his mother disappeared."

"Missing?"

Emily let out a "hmm" and said, "It's just a guess. No one went to the police, so there was no paperwork in the police station. Garcia just found out that her mother never showed up again from a certain day. Department stores, hospitals, Supermarket purchase records, food stores in the town... This woman seems to have disappeared out of thin air. I contacted their former neighbors. Several people said that people in the town suspected that she had eloped with a Spanish man. You know, His mother had a bad reputation and often disappeared for three to five days without any reason. Everyone didn't think much of it, and blessed Allen to leave her. Since then, Allen's grandfather with dementia moved in to live with him and became a His guardian."

Reid was startled: "That means there should only be two people living in this house from then on? But... that doesn't make sense either."

"What do you mean?"

Reid thought for a while, then dug out the utility receipts in the cardboard box again.He said: "According to the data of the federal survey on the average resource usage of the population at the end of the last century, even including various items such as bathing and eating, the maximum average monthly water consumption per person in Virginia is only about 2 tons. In the state of water shortage caused by natural disasters, their water consumption will only be less, but you see..."

Emily put on gloves, and the ancient printing on the bill completely preserved the living conditions of the Allen family. According to Reid, the house consumed a staggering amount of water and electricity.

Reid frowned, "And, there's one room that's pretty weird."

"where?"

Reid glanced at the wooden door at the end of the aisle behind him, and said, "The storage room is where Jacques hit Allen."

Emily put down the documents in her hand. Even though she knew that the FBI had searched the house thoroughly, she subconsciously put her hand on the holster, walked in front of Reid, and approached the door step by step.

The windows in the aisle were heavily covered by dark green velvet curtains, and the air flow caused by walking made a small corner. The twilight outside fell on Emily's resolute side face through the dust and cobwebs, and her shadow was in the Reid floated faintly.

The storage room behind the door is completely a space that has not yet been renovated. The dull air has not been refreshed by the entry of outsiders. The half-painted dark gray paint is solidified on the walls, and the rough concrete floor is in twos and threes. There are several old paint buckets and brushes.

On the ground, Allen's long-dried black blood grew wildly like witch's branches, covered the surrounding walls, and penetrated into the ground.

20 years ago, the screaming and crying of a woman broke through time and space, and the pungent smell of blood strongly stimulated the nerves of the two profilers. Emily covered her nose, and she frowned and asked softly: "Reid, is Allen's mother true?" Is it missing?"

**

"If this is the case, it cannot be judged whether Allen Muhammad has nothing to do with this incident..." Hotch said to Reid on the other end of the phone, "Allen Muhammad is still awake at the hospital, and Dave and the others have already arrived at the factory... Yes , ok... You and Emily came over quickly, Jacques found that some sets of data are not very clear... Yes, he is already here, okay, see you later."

Hotch hung up the phone and walked into the only office in the far corner of the factory. The contents inside had been emptied by members of Jacques' team, and all the documents were neatly placed on the ground in the order Jacques required. It directly led to the fact that everyone didn't even have a place to stand inside, and they were all crowded in a small corner.

JJ handed a few pieces of paper to Hotch and said, "This is the model of the gun that Jacques and I sorted out, as well as the number of bullets. They have a very wide range of business from sex to sex."

"Allen Muhammad is he proficient in these things?"

"It's not that good." Estrada stretched his waist and said with a strong nasal voice, "That kid only knows a little bit of fur, just a little better than ordinary people, but if it involves these design drawings, production technology and so on, You must stop eating!"

"What about the workers at this factory?" Rossi asked.

JJ said: "Garcia checked, there are five people in total, and each of them only manages their own part of the production line. If it weren't for this matter, they would have thought they were producing Japanese models."

Rossi thought for a while and said, "According to the news from Reid and Jacques' analysis, Allen Muhammad's perfectionism and obsessive-compulsive tendencies are very clear. How can such a person tolerate situations that are out of his control?" Down?"

"What do you mean?" Estrada didn't understand.

JJ answered softly: "A person's character determines his behavior. One thing that perfectionism and obsessive-compulsive disorder bring to Allen is that he has a strong desire to control everything he owns. He believes that he has the right to control the life and death of the victim, or how to do it. die."

"So you think he's in charge of this?" Estrada asked.

Jacques pushed open the door, and just heard the last sentence, he yawned, stepped on the paper on the ground, sat down beside JJ, and said, "Not necessarily, I think there should be someone behind him, this person may be The guy who was good with guns, or who planned everything, but he used Allen and used him as a scapegoat."

Rossi pushed the cold boiled water in front of him and asked, "Did you find anything in the place you went?"

"No, it runs faster than a rabbit." Jacques rubbed his index finger against the wall of the cup, shook his head, and said, "When I got there, the housekeeper had just finished cleaning and disinfecting, and I didn't leave a single fingerprint."

"It's a pity, it's just a little short." JJ said with some regret.

"Aside from his address, was there anything else found?" Hotch asked.

Jacques leaned on the back of the chair and turned his head, looked at Trace and Cohen who were walking in from the outside, turned his head again, and said: "He should be a veteran, male, over 60 years old, no wife and children, economic, In terms of finances, he is very rich, but on the surface he is very simple, his left leg is disabled, and he may have a prosthetic. The cleaning said that the old man has a little limp when he walks, and the sound he makes when he steps on the ground is also different."

"Disabled left leg?" Reid and Emily also arrived, but they opened the door and found that there was no room to sit. He stood at the door and asked, "Jacques, is the password you are looking for 950603?"

Jacques stood up to make room for him, and said, "Yes, that diary, that day was missing that year, and..."

"And he met someone that day," Emily said, putting the box brought back from Allen's residence on the table, "his father's former comrade in arms, Bill Manson."

"Manson?" Rossi repeated the name in a low voice, and fixed his gaze on Emily again.

Emily continued: "This person, who was wounded and returned home a month after Allen's father died in battle, has been recuperating in a rehabilitation center in Pennsylvania since then, and only went out a few times to claim that it was because of travel."

"Travel?" Estrada asked.

"He likes to travel alone, and Bill's attending doctor said that proper solitude is good for his condition." Emily shrugged and said, "But he refused to disclose any details related to Bill Manson's condition, oh, Reid, what did he say? with?"

"It's my right under the law," Reid said.

Estrada twitched the corner of his mouth. He slapped his ID on the table and said arrogantly: "Law? This is called law! I didn't say it, you are too gentle, if I say it..."

Trace turned his head away, and rubbed his temples in pain. Since accepting this case, they haven't had a good rest for several days, their heads are stuffy and painful, and now they have to watch their teammates act stupid in front of outsiders. It was an ordeal for him.

Reid said to Jacques: "Garcia has no authority and may not be able to find records of the time Bill Manson and Allen's father served in the military, but I always feel that the reason for their retirement is the key."

Jacques nodded and said, "I'll have Campbell send over the information, but it may take a while."

Reid gave a soft "Yes", took a sip of water, stood up and walked towards the documents all over the floor.

He still has a lot to do.

**

"So? What did you find in those files?" Dr. Reagan asked with a smile.

Reid calmly picked up the coffee cup in front of him and took a sip, feeling the touch and mellow aroma of the liquid ground from coffee beans worth seven hundred dollars flowing on the tip of his tongue. After a long time, he said slowly: "In the letter Or there are many ways to hide information in files, such as skipping, replacing, and more advanced, symmetrical functions, CR4... But if you consider that Allen was only a ten-year-old kid at the time, where can it be difficult? This is even more difficult. It's like a secret little game between father and son."

Dr. Reagan said: "You can think of it and crack it in such a short period of time. You are also very good. But I still have to congratulate you for arresting those people in time. If it is true as the newspaper said, maybe I Now I’m hiding at home in fear and dare not go out, or, when I go out, I don’t know where the bullets were fired from. The FBI saved the world again.”

Reid put down his cup, and looked at the smiling old man opposite him. His hair was neatly combed back, revealing a smooth forehead. The double-breasted suit made his body look even taller. The dim light of the coffee shop fell on his face Above, there is a sense of loneliness suddenly, like a king sitting on the throne looking back at his authority and the corpses of his loved ones.

After a long silence, Reid said: "Bill Manson and Allen's father died in battle and lost a leg because of the superior's misjudgment. He has always held a grudge, so he has been putting some pressure on Allen. Of course, it can also be called, hinting, Insinuating that he is a cowardly and useless child, insinuating that his life will be useless, insinuating... I don't know what else, but from the results, Manson succeeded, maybe Allen killed his mother and dismembered his body. From his advice, maybe, maybe his idea would have worked without Jacques, I don't know."

After finishing speaking, the doctor fell silent again, and his eyes followed Dr. Reagan's gaze to look out. The glass windows of the coffee shop were foggy, and it started to rain again outside. There were not many pedestrians on the road, only along the street The streetlights in the street were bright yellow.

"And then? Where did you find him in the end?" Dr. Reagan came back to his senses first. He took a sip of coffee, cleared his voice, and asked.

"He was in the hospital, outside Allen's intensive care unit, crying, like, like a father who lost his beloved son. Of course, my analogy may not be very strict. He is not Allen's father, and Allen is not dead." Reid said, "Later, when we reviewed the details of the case, we realized that Manson also had a strong desire to control. His possessive desire for Allen exceeded his father's definition. He regarded Allen as his own property. He was in the hospital that day. The tears shed here were not because Allen was seriously injured, but because he was out of control and his possessions may not belong to him anymore. This fact makes him sad."

"That's because psychology has its own set of laws, and human reason and consciousness cannot control it." Dr. Reagan's eyes fell on the misty rain outside the window, and he said softly, "Our so-called psychological Aren’t scholars working so hard to explore these nihilistic things? But if you don’t believe it yourself, how can you go on this road?”

"What way?"

"My way." Dr. Reagan turned his eyes back to the warm room, and fell on the face of the young and handsome doctor opposite. He smiled and said, "Reid, are you interrogating me like a criminal? But say Ask questions, maybe I'm a little more proficient than you."

Reid laughed cooperatively, and then he saw Dr. Reagan stand up, and the old man said, "Sorry, kid, I have to go first, my patient needs me."

The screen of his phone flashed with a very common name on it.

Reid stood up, watched him pick up his coat and leave, and said, "Okay, let's meet again next time. It's raining, so be careful on the road."

"You too." Dr. Reagan waved his hand with a smile, and followed the waiter out.

Reid didn't leave in a hurry, he sat back to his original seat, and after three to five minutes, a familiar person sat across from him.

"See clearly? Is it him?" Reid asked.

Rossi shook his head and said, "I see clearly, but, Reid, you have to know that the last time I saw him was more than ten years ago, and it's not clear whether he had any plastic surgery... …well, I mean, I'm not sure."

Reid was a little disappointed. He sighed in his heart, sat in his seat and thought for a while, then stood up and said, "In this case, I'll go back and think about it."

"Huh? Are you leaving? Don't sit any longer?"

Reid shook his head and said: "Jacques should wake up. If he finds out that I'm not here, he will be angry again. Besides, isn't Strauss waiting for you there?" The female boss in the corner nodded.

Rossi looked back, then laughed, Reid looked down and saw the gentle light in the old Italian man's eyes.