The Novelist Forced to Become Famous

Chapter 292

At that time, Reed was the sheriff of Twilight Town, and he identified three suspects.

The first one was an addict who lived in a trailer and was involved in shady business dealings. He often associated with prostitutes, and those who knew him said he was ruthless and quick to resort to violence. However, on the day of the incident, he was working for a local crime boss, who later implicated him after being arrested, clearing his name. Nevertheless, the man did not meet a good end and was killed by his accomplices six months later.

The second suspect was an eccentric who lived on the outskirts of town and rarely interacted with people. Some claimed to have seen him with Teresa, but on the nights when several victims went missing, he claimed to have stayed home, although there was no evidence to support his alibi. The police searched his house and found that he suffered from a severe illness that caused fainting spells, making it impossible for him to carry out a series of complex rituals. Six months after the incident, he moved away from Twilight Town.

The third and most suspicious suspect was Frank. He had a farm on the edge of the woods where he raised pigs, cows, sheep, and other livestock. He used to have a wife, but she left him because she couldn't tolerate his temper and took their child with her.

This man was physically strong and had a violent temperament. It would have been no problem for him to overpower five teenagers with a gun. However, the police searched his farm and found no clues. They even found Frank's lover, who confirmed that they were together at a motel on the night the children went missing. The motel owner indirectly confirmed this as well.

Although the evidence suggested that Frank should not be the killer, Reed still conducted an extensive investigation on him. He even bought an expensive camera and took numerous photos of the farm, which later became the inspiration for his grandson Robert's creative work.

Jian Jing had only caught a glimpse of Robert's farm and already felt that it had a certain atmosphere. But now, in the real place, she suddenly realized that no matter how cleverly the fake farm was constructed, it couldn't replicate the eerie feeling of the real thing.

Frank's farm had been around for over thirty years. The house was dilapidated, with a leaky roof and walls covered in mold. The wooden door emitted a rotten smell.

Old William and Old Frank were acquainted, and they explained the situation to Jian Jing, allowing them to take shelter from the rain.

"If it wasn't for William, I wouldn't let outsiders step foot on my property," gruffly said Old Frank. He was already quite old, with gray hair, cloudy eyes, and wrinkled skin that hung loosely on his body, giving him a peculiar appearance.

"Dad, don't say that," replied young Frank, who was completely different from his father. He didn't look like a Caucasian; instead, he resembled a Native American. He was introverted and only glanced briefly at Jian Jing before shifting his gaze. "Let me make you some hot tea, um, and sandwiches. Would you like some?"

Jian Jing gave Jiang BaiYan a quick glance.

He immediately understood and said, "No need to trouble yourself, hot tea will do."

Little Frank quickly brought a pot of hot tea and poured it for them, expressing his worry, "Uncle William, it seems like the rain won't stop today."

Old William seemed to feel slighted and grumbled, "The weather around here changes suddenly. The television clearly said it would be sunny."

Little Frank smiled and quietly sat down.

After a while, feeling bored, he started getting friendly with Jiang BaiYan, "My father lives in town and doesn't like outsiders. Don't mind his words."

Who is Jiang BaiYan? He is an actor.

He quickly got into character and portrayed himself as someone who isn't fluent in English but is cheerful and talkative. He promptly replied, "No problem, we are the ones causing the disturbance. We originally planned to have a good day of hunting, but who knew we would encounter heavy rain."

Curiously, Little Frank asked, "What did you manage to hunt today?"

Jiang BaiYan shrugged, "We didn't catch anything."

Little Frank laughed and suddenly said to William, "It's already late, why don't you stay for dinner? I made chicken stew with rice and vegetable soup."

Jian Jing immediately looked up and said, "Dinner?"

William looked at her and then glanced at the raindrops the size of beans outside. He nodded in agreement.

Little Frank opened a bag of rice, poured it into the pot, added water, and let it simmer. When it was almost cooked, he added the semi-finished curry and cooked chicken, mixed it together, and the steaming chicken rice was freshly served.

Jian Jing expressed her high praise.

Little Frank became even happier and took out beer to offer them.

Jiang BaiYan accepted, but Jian Jing declined his kind gesture, using the excuse of not drinking.

Little Frank wasn't angry and simply said, "I'm very curious about China. Could you tell me about your country?"

"Of course, I'd be delighted to," Jiang BaiYan readily agreed and rambled on without restraint.

As they talked, it naturally grew dark outside, and the rain hadn't stopped yet. Little Frank slapped his forehead in annoyance, saying, "It's all my fault for chatting for so long and delaying your time." He paused and added apologetically, "Otherwise, why don't you stay here for the night?"

It was unsafe to travel in the heavy rain and strong wind. Jian Jing and Jiang BaiYan didn't hesitate and nodded in agreement.

The guest room was on the second floor of the farmhouse, slightly damp and old, with a strong musty smell, but it was well cleaned and had a bathroom.

Jian Jing activated her perspective device and walked around the room, making sure there were no secret passages or hidden doors before saying with relief, "What do you think about this father and son?"

Of course, a conversation can't only consist of their words. Little Frank also briefly introduced their situation: Frank has been ill for a long time, and if it weren't for William's arrival, he wouldn't have shown up in person. He even eats dinner alone in his room.

"He's curious about us," Jiang BaiYan supported his head and found that a few cans of beer couldn't get him drunk, "but I can't see anything suspicious."

Jian Jing nodded, "I've observed the kitchen and dining room. There are indeed only traces of one person dining. There's no problem with the separate potato soup cooked for Frank, but..."

She slowly said, "Something is very wrong about this place."

Jiang BaiYan lowered his voice and asked, "Could it be that we've entered the lair of a serial killer?"

"What if we did?" she retorted.

"Instinct tells us that those who don't believe in horror movies end up dead. But running away is definitely not an option; it would only alert them," Jiang BaiYan lived up to his profession and knew the tricks of the trade. "In most cases, the initial dangers are not fatal. We should take the initiative, overpower them, and interrogate them with harsh methods..."

"Then we'll end up getting arrested by the FBI, and it'll turn into a scene straight out of 'The Shawshank Redemption'?" Jian Jing interrupted.

Jiang BaiYan waved his finger, speaking mysteriously, "Jing Jing, don't forget we're in the land of freedom. As long as we have enough money, we are free."

As he spoke, he opened his arms and made exaggerated gestures, adding a touch of comedy to the situation.

"You have a point," Jian Jing couldn't help but laugh. "You should consider doing stand-up comedy."

"No, I have to maintain my status as a celebrity. I still need to fight for a role in your next film," Jiang BaiYan inserted himself with a show of loyalty, earning a disdainful look from her. He quickly regained his seriousness. "So, what should we do, wait?"

Jian Jing shook her head. She had initially considered observing the situation, but he had joked about the conventional approach, and it actually sparked her inspiration. "Art derives from life. Since all stories start with the protagonist taking risks, why can't we do the same?"

Knowing that there's a tiger in the mountains, one tends to go towards the mountains. It's also a strategy.

"It's already eight o'clock in the evening," she glanced at her watch and said, "Let's stage our own death."

The first step to risking one's life is to actively seek trouble.

Jian Jing found William and claimed she wanted to discuss tomorrow's hunting plan. However, old William seemed unusually perceptive. "What you want to ask about is not just this matter."

"Well," she imitated the American way of expression and said carelessly, "I want to talk to you about something. This place is close to the woods but not part of the forest. It would be much more convenient if we could stay here and come and go as we please."

Old William replied coldly, "I don't think it's a good idea."

"I thought you were close with Frank and his son. They should be trustworthy," Jian Jing immediately continued, raising doubts. "Are Reed's words all true?"

Old William refused to engage further. "Ask fewer questions, do more hunting. See you tomorrow."

With a slam, he closed the door.

Jian Jing returned empty-handed, but she believed that if Frank and his son were truly suspicious, the few sentences exchanged in the corridor would be enough to make them cautious and suspicious, prompting them to take further action.

The second step to risking one's life is to wander about.

Jiang BaiYan walked along the corridor, descended the staircase, and deliberately turned into dim and secluded corners. After a series of twists and turns, he surprisingly found the back door of the building. Stepping outside, he found himself on a narrow path with only a canopy overhead, paved with gravel, leading to the sheep pen behind the farm.

There were lights inside, but no one was present.

A group of yellowish sheep stood or lay down, looking at the intruder with a strong, pungent odor emanating from their bodies, mingled with the smell of dung and hay, making it extremely unpleasant.

Jiang BaiYan held his breath and almost turned back.

But soon, he felt someone watching him.

Who could it be?

He surveyed the sheep pen and suddenly noticed a pure white lamb among the dirty yellow sheep. Its wool was as white as snow, completely different from the other sheep.

"Baa~" it bleated.

The other sheep, as if awakened, turned to look at him.

Jiang BaiYan took a sharp breath, his whole body shivering.

At that moment, footsteps sounded behind him.

Frank entered, carrying a bag of feed. Surprised to see him, Frank asked, "What are you doing here?"

Jiang BaiYan pretended to be flustered but quickly regained composure. "I was just looking for you. Can I borrow the kitchen? I want to prepare some food for tomorrow's hunt."

"Of course." Compared to a suspicious guest, Frank was a hospitable host, readily agreeing.

Jiang BaiYan asked him to buy eggs, bread, and pork, preparing to make hamburgers.

He cracked the eggs, ground the meat, and sliced the bread with precision.

Frank left.

Jiang BaiYan began inspecting the knives in the kitchen one by one, as if suspecting the presence of murder weapons. However, he found no suspicious items such as bloodstains or hairs. Instead, he discovered something strange.

At the bottom of the cupboard, numerous long, thin roots resembling hairs were growing, entwined and clinging as if a huge tree nearby had extended its roots into the foundation.

But Jiang BaiYan clearly remembered that the surroundings of the farm were wide open, with only a few bushes and no sturdy trees.

He crouched down and touched those roots.

They were cold, hard, and moist—not the texture of handicrafts, but alive.

Since Teacher Jing Jing wanted to "make a grand exit," he certainly didn't mind being the first "unlucky one."

Jiang BaiYan picked up a steak knife, assessed its weight, and decisively chopped it down.

The roots fell to the ground, squirming like a worm, and then lay there stiffly, no different from the withered branches by the roadside.

Jiang BaiYan took a plastic bag, picked it up, tightly rolled it, and casually stuffed it into his pocket.

Then, "snip, snip, snip," he continued chopping.

The evenly marbled pork was formed into patties, sizzling in the frying pan, emitting a tantalizing aroma. He busied himself with seasoning and cutting vegetables, completely unaware that the plastic bag tucked into his pants pocket trembled slightly.

Black, sticky roots quietly emerged from it.