Who Lurks in the Dark (Part 1)
The airbag had deployed late—his chest had still struck the steering wheel. It hurt, but didn't seem serious. His chin was also bruised from the airbag's impact.
Marcus Shaw quickly checked the dashboard. He tried to shift into reverse and straighten the car's position, but the steering wheel was locked and the key wouldn't turn.
The vehicle sat askew in the lane, unable to move, with cars continually passing by. If someone with slow reactions came along and couldn't change lanes or brake in time, a collision could happen at any moment.
Marcus Shaw got out immediately, ran a few steps, and stood upstream on the roadside. He grabbed a branch and laid it across the road to warn approaching drivers to go around.
The sun overhead was brutal. He broke into a cold sweat, one hand pressed to his chest, the other trembling as he fished out his phone and called the insurance company.
After about ten minutes, the insurance representative arrived and had the car towed away quickly.
As soon as they reached the designated repair shop, Viktor Dunn called, asking where he was and why he hadn't come back. Marcus Shaw didn't go into detail—just said he'd had a minor issue on the road, a small malfunction, nothing serious.
Viktor Dunn was clearly worried and asked if he should come help. Marcus Shaw quickly said, "No need—I've got this handled."
Sitting in a chair, massaging his chest and waiting, he drank some water. Then the mechanic brought over the inspection report: someone had pried open the gas cap and poured an unknown liquid into the tank. The impure fuel had caused an abnormality in the fuel line.
Marcus Shaw's heart jolted. He followed the mechanic to take a look. The man had rigged a simple plastic pump—one end with a curved tube inserted into the gas tank, the other with a straight tube emptying into a cup. He squeezed the bulb several times and drew out a small cup of gasoline. It was indeed cloudy and gave off a strange odor.
Marcus Shaw asked what it was. The mechanic examined it for a long time and sniffed it, but couldn't say for certain—only that it was a milky white liquid, very viscous. Probably some kind of adhesive.
Marcus Shaw's head throbbed. The mechanic pointed to the lower edge of the gas tank and said, "Whoever tampered with this knew what they were doing. The pry marks on the gas cap are minimal. An amateur like you would never notice a thing."
Marcus Shaw felt as if he'd been gripped by the throat—too stunned to speak. He thought of the spikes, the flowerpot, even the manhole cover. A cold sweat spread across his body in waves, like ripples in a tide.
His first thought was Finn Carter, but he quickly ruled him out. For one thing, the boy had no reason to bite the hand that fed him. For another, he didn't have the expertise to pull off something this sophisticated.
Then who could it be?
A storm was churning in his mind when the insurance representative stepped in front of him: "Mr. Shaw, this qualifies as deliberate damage, which falls outside our coverage. You'll need to cover the repair and towing costs yourself." The man's lips curled—a smile without warmth.
Marcus Shaw's face was livid. He took the form, scanned it briefly, and signed with a flourish. The representative hurried off.
The mechanic came back over. "Should I fix it?"
Marcus Shaw scowled. "How much?"
The mechanic calculated on his fingers. "Several thousand."
Marcus Shaw said nothing.
The mechanic pushed further: "A young guy driving a car like this—you're short on a little cash?"
Marcus Shaw's nose twitched. "Fix it, fix it—just fix it. Do a proper job and don't try anything funny. If something goes wrong, I'm coming back."
The mechanic's expression soured. He walked off shaking his head.
Marcus Shaw grabbed his backpack and swallowed a handful of pills.
On the day Danny died, a car had already been destroyed once. The body had been severely damaged—it could have been repaired, but Marcus Shaw knew he couldn't bear to drive it again, so he'd traded it in and bought a new one.
The old one was yellow. The new one was black.
And now, this one had been in an accident too.
Though he couldn't imagine who was behind it, he was now certain—someone was trying to kill him.
He even began to wonder whether Danny's death might have been his fault, that he'd brought it upon his brother... His heart was like a pot of water over a fire, boiling and bubbling, steam rushing straight to his head.
Marcus Shaw pulled out his phone to call his boss, but then remembered the scene at noon—the suspicions he still hadn't digested—and hesitated.
But on second thought, his life was at stake, and the truth mattered even more. He made the call, keeping his patience and modulating his tone, and explained the situation. He proposed opening a case for attempted murder and intentional destruction of private property.
Captain Reed, however, was dismissive, telling him to gather evidence first and not to be guided by subjective assumptions.
The water in Marcus Shaw's heart burned straight through the bottom of the pot. Before his boss could finish lecturing, he hung up.
Early the next morning, Marcus Shaw and Viktor Dunn went to the repair shop to investigate who had tampered with the car. Overnight rain had dropped the temperature sharply, and a cold wind howled, as if it could pierce right through a person's chest.
Hearing what had happened, Finn Carter's jaw dropped for several seconds. "I changed the tires and added the oil, but I don't know how to do the three filters—Master did those himself."
Viktor Dunn said, "Then it's one of you two."
Finn Carter waved his hands frantically, shaking his head like a rattle drum. "Brother, you're wrongly accusing me. Even if I don't know better, I'd never turn on someone who helped me. Uncle Marcus got me this job—I was extra careful with his car. You might not have noticed, but I even bought new floor mats out of my own pocket."
His face was scrunched up in distress, flushed red to the roots of his neck, his hands gesticulating wildly as he scrambled for more arguments.
Marcus Shaw believed he was telling the truth and was about to say something reassuring when Viktor Dunn cut in: "Who are you calling 'brother'? I don't have a little brother who robs people on the street. You should call him 'brother' but don't, and you call the wrong ones 'brother' when you shouldn't."
Finn Carter's face cycled through shades of red and white, his eyes dimming.
Marcus Shaw clicked his tongue and said to Viktor Dunn, "Do you ever think before you speak? You're worse than him." He turned quickly to Finn Carter: "Don't listen to his crap—that's all in the past. Uncle—I believe you, and thanks for the floor mats. I like them."
Finn Carter perked up but still glowered at Viktor Dunn.
Viktor Dunn rolled his eyes.
Just then, the shop owner arrived. The moment he walked in, he threw his arm around Marcus Shaw's shoulders, calling him "little brother" nonstop.
After the pleasantries, Marcus Shaw's face turned serious as he explained the purpose of their visit. The owner immediately bellowed at Finn Carter: "How did you mess up? How do you add the wrong fuel?"
Marcus Shaw quickly intervened: "It wasn't him—someone deliberately poured something else in. They're trying to kill me."
The owner's eyes bulged. "Kill you? Holy shit—who'd dare touch my little brother? I'd lend them a pair of balls and they still wouldn't have the guts."
Marcus Shaw smiled. "We're investigating, investigating."
Just then, a phone rang from the owner's satchel. He waved his hand, stepped outside to answer, then came right back with an even broader smile plastered on. "My little demon at home has her eye on a bag—she insists I go with her to Zhuozhan. Says if we're late, someone else will grab it. No choice—who owes who, right?" He rubbed his head, his eyes darting around.
Marcus Shaw quickly said, "Go take care of your business—we're just asking a few questions, won't hold you up."
The owner gave Finn Carter another earful, telling him to cooperate fully and help catch the bastard—make him pay. Then he clasped his hands toward Marcus Shaw in a gesture of goodwill and said they'd find time to grab a meal together. He tucked his bag under his arm and sauntered off cheerfully.
Marcus Shaw asked Finn Carter, "Where's your master?"
Finn Carter replied, "He took a leave—said he wasn't feeling well. Left yesterday afternoon."
Marcus Shaw dialed the master's phone number. The entire "Cotton Candy" ringback tone played through without an answer.
Maybe he's busy. Try again later.
Viktor Dunn tilted his chin up, looking down at Finn Carter: "Anything unusual about your master these past couple of days?"
"No, same as always." Finn Carter thought for a moment, then added: "But he did seem to be slacking off a bit. Any job that came into the shop, as long as I could handle it, he'd let me do it. He only stepped in when it was something I truly couldn't manage. Does that count?"
Marcus Shaw stood with one arm across his ribs and the other propping his chin, watching him without speaking.
Finn Carter said, "Maybe Master just wanted me to get more practice."
Marcus Shaw called again—still no answer. A fog of unease began to gather in his mind.
Viktor Dunn said, "Think harder—is there anything else recently, anyone else, that seemed suspicious? Don't leave anything out. Think till it hurts."
Finn Carter turned his face away and scratched his head for a long time. Suddenly, he said: "I just remembered—there was a guy. Looked really strange. In the middle of summer, he was dressed all in black, wearing a hat and a mask—covered up completely."
Marcus Shaw and Viktor Dunn's eyes widened. They exchanged a look as Finn Carter continued: "He was just pacing back and forth across the street, sometimes glancing over at the shop. This went on for two or three days—I'd see him several times each day. But starting yesterday, he stopped showing up."
Marcus Shaw recalled the man the female student had seen—also in a hat, dressed all in black. He quickly asked, "Was he tall? Stocky?"
"A bit chubby. Not very tall, but maybe a bit taller than you, Uncle Marcus."
Viktor Dunn burst out laughing.
Marcus Shaw thought: Who is this person? He also remembered that Finn Carter's master—Master Li—had similarly vanished starting yesterday.