[Zhongyingmei] The last string

Viola got up from the bed, rubbing her sore waist with a distressed expression.

Maybe she should be thankful that Hotch is gentle every time, otherwise she would be lying on the bed today without getting up.

What time did they sleep last night?

The person on the other side of the quilt had disappeared, and Viola guessed that he got up to make breakfast, because she could already smell fried eggs.

She got up and took a shower, and when she was about to change, Hotch walked in with something in her hand.

"What's wrong?" Seeing that Hotch was frowning, she asked with some doubts.

The man handed over what was on hand, it was a pure black invitation card, which he had just received.

Viola put down the clothes in her hand, took the invitation card and read it, but after reading the first line, she raised her head in disbelief.

"Amelia died?" She was holding a funeral invitation.

This incident happened so suddenly that Viola didn't even react to it.

Amelia has given them a lot of help, and Viola has a lot of respect for this lady.

Not to mention the cello, even the fact that the two were able to get together was driven by Amelia.

Both of them felt grateful to her.

"When you saw Mrs. Powell before, was there anything unusual about her?" Hotch has been in Pakistan for more than half a year, and he doesn't know the situation here.

Viola looked a little sad: "The last time was three weeks ago, she did look a little weak, but she said it was just a minor problem."

Hotch also recalled meeting Mrs. Powell a little over a year ago, when she was already looking a little sick.

"The invitation said it was a sudden cerebral infarction and the rescue was ineffective." He added softly.

Viola stroked her forehead, wiped her face again, and replied, "Yes, I saw it."

The man put his arms around his girlfriend and gently stroked her back. She looked extremely disappointed.

*****

The funeral was scheduled for [-] pm on Saturday, and the two attended the funeral on time without being involved in a case.

It was a quarter past three in the afternoon when the two arrived at the cemetery. At that time, there were already many people standing around in twos and threes.

Viola was surprised to find that several of these people were world-renowned musicians.

"Mr. Hoter, Ms. Mill." An old voice came from beside them, and they all turned their heads to look.

Lucas Powell was still in a neat suit, with pomaded hair, and the ever-changing ruby-studded cane.

He looked very bad, and his gold-rimmed glasses couldn't suppress the severe dark circles under his eyes, which were frighteningly bloodshot.Even the usual arrogant and elegant temperament is gone, replaced by gloom and a little mania.

Losing his wife who accompanied him for half his life was almost a devastating blow to him.

"Thank you for coming." He spoke clearly, but he couldn't hide his exhaustion.

"We are deeply sorry for your loss," Viola looked at him and comforted him, "Please take care of yourself."

Lucas twitched the corners of his mouth, as if smiling.

The old man stopped greeting them and went to talk to the newcomers instead.

Viola looked at his back, with a little worry in her eyes: "Mr. Powell doesn't look well."

"We all know he's in Phase [-]," Hotch reassures. "He's going to get better."

From a psychological point of view, there are five stages of getting out of grief.

Denial, anger, negotiation, frustration, acceptance.

And Lucas, who lost his wife, obviously couldn't accept this fact, and was in a state of extreme denial.

After waiting for a while, the funeral officially began.

It stands to reason that the coffin bearers would choose healthy young men, but Lucas, an old man who was nearly sixty, was among the coffin bearers.

His hair was almost gray, and it looked particularly abrupt, and it didn't match his age.He straightened his back and looked solemn.

After the coffin was buried, the pastor stepped forward to pray and deliver a eulogy.

After the pastor finished speaking, Lucas stepped forward to make a memorial speech.

His tone was heavy, and he choked up and stopped several times when he said certain places, which made people feel sad.

The old man's memorial speech was not lengthy, and he didn't seem to want to remind himself too much of the fact that Amelia had passed away. There were few words of nostalgia, and more of them were praises.

After his eulogy ended, relatives and friends standing on both sides came forward to lay flowers one by one, and white roses gradually covered the entire coffin face.

After presenting the flowers, people left the funeral venue one by one. When Viola looked back, Lucas was still standing in front of the coffin, his back was silent and lonely.

On the night of the funeral, there is also a dinner in memory of the deceased.

People sat around the round table, telling how they met Amelia or the interesting things that happened with Amelia.

What they need is to keep the happy memory of the person who passed away instead of indulging in sadness and unable to extricate themselves.

However, the person who should get out of the sadness just stood silently in a corner of the restaurant, holding a glass of wine, without participating in any conversation.

"If you want to go, then go." Hotch said softly, he saw Viola looking at the motionless old man over there.

She looked up at him, and replied softly, "But I don't know how to comfort him."

"Just say what you want, as usual." He never doubted her ability.

"OK." She nodded and let go of the man's arm.

Viola walked to the old man's side, Lucas raised his head and looked over, restraining the sad and trance expression on his face.

He didn't allow himself to appear so vulnerable in front of outsiders.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"You don't look very well," Viola said.

Lucas was indeed not well. The last time Viola saw him, his hair was not as white as this, and he looked rather haggard.

"Losing someone closest to me," she said softly, "this kind of pain is incomprehensible to others."

"Amelia is a wonderful and gentle elder, I feel very lucky to have known her."

"I just want to tell you this."

She smiled, her tone soft and serious.

"...Thank you." Lucas smiled at her, but this kind of smile was only on the surface, not reaching the depths of his eyes.

He raised his glass to Viola and drank the liquid in the glass in one gulp.

Perhaps, one day the old man will come out, but it will take time to heal.

Sometimes, however, time does not heal scars.

It just made the scar look less hideous, and added a layer of camouflage on it. When the illusion disappeared, there were still bloodstains there.

*****

Viola and Hotch walked into the BAU office as usual, and before they even sat down, ** gave them each a case file.

"What happened?" Viola asked.

"Go to the conference room and tell me that this case is in DC." ** replied.

Three people entered the meeting room, and everyone else had already arrived. Viola and Hotch took their seats, and ** turned on the big screen.

"At about ten o'clock last night, an explosion occurred in the concert hall of the Kennedy Center. Belinda Jenkins, who was giving a concert there that night, died on the spot, and six VIP audience members died. Eight audience members were seriously injured, and a dozen audience members were slightly injured... ..."

**At first, she wanted to continue talking, but she didn't expect Viola to stand up from her chair suddenly.

Her face looked very bad, and she pursed her lips and asked, "***, where did the explosion happen? Who is hosting the concert?" Her voice was even slightly trembling.

"Kennedy Arts Center Concert Hall, the concert is Belinda Jen..." ** repeated with some surprise.

Viola didn't wait for ** to finish speaking, and took out her mobile phone from her bag in the next second, and quickly made a call. Everyone was very surprised by her nervous and anxious appearance.

"Viola, what's going on?" Hotch asked, frowning, worried.

"Bill was there last night as an accompanist for Master Jenkins." Viola replied quickly, with a hint of despair in her tone.

Everyone fell into silence, looked at each other and stopped talking.

"Answer the phone, answer the phone quickly..." The constant beeping on the phone made Viola anxious.

After more than ten seconds, just when Viola felt painfully that there would be no response from the other side, the phone was picked up suddenly.

"Bill?!" she said eagerly.

"OMG thank god you're okay."

"Really? Great, is Nina okay?"

"Okay, I see. I'm relieved to confirm that you are safe. I'll hang up first."

"Contact me later."

Everyone watched Viola's expression turn from despair to joy, but within a few words.

She breathed a sigh of relief, sat on the chair, and explained to everyone: "He's fine, Nina—it's just that Bill's wife suddenly gave birth prematurely yesterday morning, and he didn't attend the concert."

"It's a blessing in disguise," Rossi said with a smile.

Everyone nodded.

Viola smiled apologetically at her, indicating that she could continue talking.

However, when she finally recovered from her anxiety and thought about the circumstances of the case stated by the police officer, her heart sank in vain.

The ruined concert hall, the dead musicians, and the affected audience.

Everything looked so familiar, it made her brain feel dizzy.

Hotch also noticed the fit between this case and some previous cases, and looked worriedly at Viola who was sitting opposite.

She appeared to have stayed in her seat.

"After DCPD's investigation last night, it was found that the way the bomb was made was highly similar to several cases many years ago."

**As he spoke, he released several photos of the ruins of the concert hall on the screen.

"Wissa Hall in San Francisco, Lehenna Hall in San Jose, Alpine Music Hall in Las Vegas..."

The moment she heard the Alpine Concert Hall, Viola's head exploded.

So much so that she didn't hear clearly what ** said next.

Only the last sentence slipped into her ears.

"Therefore, the police believe that the concert hall killer seems to be back."

The author has something to say: Officially enter the last case~

Characters in this chapter

Lucas·PowellFriandise Dessert Manager, Amelia's husband

Amelia Powell, mysterious musician, deceased

William Hill Viola's childhood, talented musician

Thanks Yuma little angel for mine, (づ￣3￣)づ love you!