71: Chapter 71 Unexpected Clues

Listening to Fiona hem and haw, Shaun knew she wasn't in immediate danger, but her situation definitely wasn't great.

Regardless, although Fiona wasn't his girlfriend, they had, after all, had "negative distance" contact.

If he didn't know about her situation, that would be one thing, but now that he did... he certainly couldn't just stand by and watch.

So, Shaun said directly, "Fiona, tell me the truth."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds. Shaun could hear the roar of a bus engine, and people talking nearby, indistinctly.

"Lip called me," Fiona finally spoke, "said Carl got into a fight and ended up at the police station. Debbie isn't any better; she fought with her boyfriend and smashed his car window."

Shaun didn't speak. Were these things worth her rushing back to Chicago overnight?

Perhaps Fiona was worried, but it wasn't the first time Carl had gotten into a fight, nor was it the first time Debbie had smashed a car window.

Back when she was in Chicago, things like this happened every few days.

With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Shaun asked, "Fiona, when are you coming back?"

The other end of the phone was silent for a few more seconds. "I don't know, it depends."

Shaun held the phone, standing in the empty room.

Moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating the neatly made bed, and the pillow that had already gone cold.

Fiona was clearly hiding something, but it didn't seem like the right time to press for answers.

After thinking about it, Shaun just urged, "Then be careful."

"Yeah," Fiona said, "you too. There's food in the fridge, don't forget."

The call ended.

Shaun looked at the phone screen as the number faded to black.

He stood there for a long time.

Then he folded the letter, put it in his pocket, went downstairs, and walked into the kitchen.

There was a note on the refrigerator door that read: "The chicken is on the second shelf, heat it for three minutes, don't eat it cold."

Shaun opened the fridge, took out the box of chicken, put it in the microwave, and ran it for three minutes.

He sat at the kitchen table, alone, eating the heated chicken.

In his heart, he was still wondering what could be going on with Fiona...

Thinking it over, he felt there shouldn't really be anything major.

Shaun finished eating, washed the box, and put it in the recycling bag.

He walked to the living room, sat on the sofa, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV.

A late-night talk show was playing on the screen; the audience was laughing, and the host was telling jokes.

Shaun watched for five minutes, felt it was boring, and turned it off.

He took out his phone, brought up Fiona's number, stared at it for a long time, but didn't call.

Shaun placed the phone on the coffee table, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes.

In his mind, the golden book opened a page.

[ Fiona Gallagher Status: Left Hill Manor, heading to Chicago ]

[ Reason: Unknown (She said there was an issue at home, but her voice was lying) ]

[ Affection: 100 / 100 (Unchanged) ]

Note: She didn't tell you the real reason. It's not that she doesn't trust you, it's that she doesn't know how to bring it up. If you have time, you should look into it.

Look into it?

If he wanted to look into it, he would definitely have to go to Chicago.

It's just that right now, he really didn't have the time...

...

Shaun pushed the matter of Fiona to the back of his mind for the time being.

It wasn't that he didn't want to help, it was that he couldn't.

If she wouldn't say the reason, chasing her to Chicago would be useless.

Plus, there were more critical matters at hand... The Supreme Witch's power was fading, that low-level demon might return at any moment with something more advanced, and what was hidden in the Colombians' clubhouse still hadn't been investigated.

Everything was piling up on him.

He washed the dishes, went upstairs to change clothes, and just as he was preparing to leave, his phone rang.

An unknown number...

He answered it directly.

"Officer?" A female voice came from the other end, a bit raspy, with a casual tone. "Is that the police officer from yesterday? The one watching the clubhouse across the street."

Shaun listened and realized: "Max?"

"Yeah, that's me." Max's voice came through the receiver, with the sound of a spatula flipping in the background. "That place you're watching, it's closed today."

"Closed?"

"Yeah. When I opened the shop this morning, I saw those two big guys at the door were gone, the rolling shutter was pulled down, and it hasn't opened since."

Max paused and said, "Aren't you investigating that place? I thought you'd want to know."

Shaun thought to himself that this must be a development, but he said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Max said on the other end. "You helped us yesterday; this is paying you back."

After saying this, Max hung up the phone directly.

Shaun immediately started to calculate.

That place... it was fine yesterday, and today it's closed.

Was it because he had alerted them?

Or were they planning to leave anyway?

The latter possibility wasn't high, after all... it was too coincidental.

He went downstairs, started the engine, and drove toward the French Quarter.

Twenty minutes later, he parked the car across the street.

Max's bakery was open, and those crooked cupcakes were still in the display window.

Through the glass, he could see Max wiping cups behind the counter, and Caroline taking orders for customers.

Everything was normal.

But the clubhouse across the street was indeed different.

The rolling shutter was pulled all the way down, and someone had spray-painted a crooked graffiti on the gray metal, which was hard to make out.

The trash can at the entrance was still there, but the trash inside hadn't been collected and was spilling out all over the ground.

The two men standing at the door yesterday were gone, and even that heavy wooden door was locked tight.

Shaun got out of the car, crossed the street, and stood in front of the rolling shutter.

His [Primary Magic] had no reaction; it seemed there was nothing inside.

He reached out and knocked on the rolling shutter, the metal emitted a hollow sound; there was no one inside.

Shaun went around to the alley next to it, found a side door, locked, and couldn't push it open.

The windows were covered with newspapers from the inside, and nothing could be seen.

"Don't bother."

Shaun turned his head.

Max stood at the entrance of the alley, hands in her apron pockets, looking at him and saying: "Someone came by this morning, a man in a suit. He opened the door, went in, stayed for ten minutes, came out, locked the door, and left."

Shaun walked out and asked, "What did he look like?"

"In his fifties, gray hair, quite sturdy," Max thought for a moment, "driving a black Lincoln, didn't see the license plate clearly."

A face flashed through Shaun's mind...

Thomas Brown, Deputy Chief of the Fifth Precinct!

Of course, it might not be him; there were too many sturdy middle-aged men with gray hair.

But if it was him...

It meant the police department and the Colombians were still colluding, still looking for that treasure, and his direction was correct.

It was a pity he had no clue what place they had investigated, and now Brown had come personally to close this clubhouse...

It seemed there must be something important inside...