Finn Carter sat bolt upright the moment he heard this, eyes glued to the printed page.
"Still not talking?"
Finn Carter's gaze darted to Viktor Dunn's phone. Gideon Shaw immediately said, "Call again."
Now Finn Carter couldn't sit still—he even lunged as if to grab the phone.
"Sit still! The nerve of you!" Viktor Dunn glared, eyes bulging.
Finn Carter hunched over like a spent coil of mosquito incense. His eyes darted back and forth for a long time before he finally spoke: "My dad had a stroke. He can't get out of bed. Sometimes he has seizures too—he has to take medicine every day..." He paused, then added: "We're out of money. He'll run out of his medication tonight."
Viktor Dunn leaned forward. "So you steal? That makes it right?"
Gideon Shaw said, "If you're going to lie, at least pick the right occasion."
"Who's lying? I swear on my life!"
Viktor Dunn's hands hovered over the keyboard, unable to type a single word.
"If you need money, you can work," Gideon Shaw said.
Finn Carter muttered under his breath: "Their hearts are all black..."
"What?"
Finn Carter kept his head down. "There was this training program. They said they'd set us up with jobs afterward, so I went. It was at BuyNow Plaza—I took the elevator up a dozen floors, and the place was packed. Some guy on stage, dressed all sharp, talking about buying and selling. They handed out these little booklets and told us to take notes. I couldn't understand a word of it—I just scribbled for half an hour until my hand hurt. Then toward the end, the guy on stage started dancing around the subject of money—something about startup capital, six hundred forty dollars. He promised they wouldn't touch a cent of it, that it'd all go into accounts they'd open for us. But I didn't have any money. I could tell they were scammers, so I said I needed to use the bathroom and slipped out."
Gideon Shaw said nothing, running his tongue across his lips.
"Then I went to a restaurant to wash dishes. Some idiot knocked over the whole stack I'd just finished washing—he bumped into them rushing around. Shards everywhere. The kitchen chief blamed me instead. Said I had to pay for the damage—they docked it from my wages. Totally unfair. They picked on me because I was new!"
Finn Carter grew more animated: "Every last cent I had, they took!" Then his voice softened: "That morning, I gave my dad his last two pills. I was afraid he'd notice there weren't any left, so I took another bottle of vitamin C tablets and shook them so he'd hear the rattle..."
Gideon Shaw didn't know what to say. He stared at the boy's small, straight nose. The silence in the room swelled, pressing mercilessly against them both.
It was a long while before Finn Carter spoke again. "My dad tried to kill himself twice. He said he was a burden."
He lowered his head as far as it could go and mumbled: "My mom ran off with someone. He's all I have. I have to keep him alive..."
Warmth seemed to flood Gideon Shaw's chest. He raised a hand and rubbed his nose.
He understood what it meant to desperately need someone.
Gideon Shaw told Viktor Dunn to stay with Finn Carter, then took the printed sheet and left to verify the situation.
He found the phone number for the Anda Residential Community office and gave them Finn Carter's father's name. The reply came: "That's right, we do have a resident by that name—no ability to work. Every holiday, our leaders bring him cooking oil and rice."
Before returning to the interrogation room, Gideon Shaw noticed the grilled noodle vendor was still there, gazing up at the display boards in the corridor.
"Is there something else?"
He walked over and asked, which startled her.
"Ah, Officer Shaw, nothing really. I just wanted to ask—why did that boy do something like that? How are you going to handle it?"
Gideon Shaw thought for a moment, then explained Finn Carter's home situation.
The vendor let out a long breath. "I figured he must be in some kind of trouble. Otherwise, why would he—he looked like such a nice boy." She seemed to have completely forgotten she was the one who'd been robbed.
Back in the interrogation room, Gideon Shaw fixed his gaze on Finn Carter and said in a measured tone: "Whatever the reason, a crime is a crime. What you did is robbery—broad daylight, seriously egregious conduct. Do you admit it?"
Viktor Dunn also stared at Finn Carter.
Finn Carter swallowed hard. "I admit it."
"Is this the first time?"
Finn Carter suddenly raised his head and locked eyes with Gideon Shaw. "This is the first time. Check if you don't believe me!"
Gideon Shaw held his gaze.
Finn Carter's eyes lost their fire, and he quickly added: "I won't do it again either. I'll find another way."
"A legitimate way," Gideon Shaw corrected.
Finn Carter nodded.
Viktor Dunn typed furiously, filling in all the missing details. He was about to ask how many days of detention would be appropriate when Gideon Shaw said, "Given that this is your first offense, the amount is small, and the victim has indicated she won't press charges, we're letting you off this time."
Viktor Dunn's eyes went wide.
Gideon Shaw continued: "If there's a next time, you'll be severely punished, and this will follow you for the rest of your life. And your father will be told."
Finn Carter sat frozen, thinking he'd misheard.
"What, you like it in here? Want to sit a while longer?"
Finn Carter pushed himself up from the chair, bowed to both of them, and shuffled to the door in stiff, uncoordinated steps.
He'd just pulled the door open when Gideon Shaw called his name. He flinched, thinking Gideon Shaw had changed his mind.
Gideon Shaw tore off a scrap of paper, quickly scribbled something on it, and pressed it into Finn Carter's hand, saying quietly, "Whether you go is up to you."
---
When Gideon Shaw and Viktor Dunn escorted Finn Carter outside, the noodle vendor was still waiting. Without a word, she pressed a roll of small bills into his hand—generous as a mother.
Finn Carter looked at the money, then at her, then at Gideon Shaw, his face burning red as he tried to refuse.
The vendor was insistent, her large hands clamping down on his small ones. She didn't say anything embarrassing—just nodded and signaled with her eyes for him to accept it.
Gideon Shaw gave them both an out: "Why don't you consider it a loan from Auntie—your father needs his medication tonight."
Finn Carter thought it over, then lowered his head. He pulled a few bills from the roll, handed the rest back to the vendor, bowed quickly, and jogged away from the station without looking back.
Gideon Shaw looked at the vendor. On her face, with its two patches of bloodshot red, a smile finally emerged.
As if she'd just corrected a mistake.
---
After seeing the noodle vendor off, Gideon Shaw headed back toward his office. Passing the mailroom, he suddenly remembered it was Wednesday, and his stomach tightened. He gripped the marble windowsill and called inside: "Uncle Vance, any mail for me?"
Silas set down the Jilin Daily and glared: "Don't think you can call me 'Uncle' just because you have a baby face. You're in your thirties—have some shame."
Gideon Shaw grinned and quickly corrected himself, calling him "Big Brother Vance" several times. Silas finally pulled a stack of letters from a file organizer, examined each one, and replied: "None."
Gideon Shaw felt a wave of relief. "Great, thanks. Carry on," he said, heading inside.
But he'd barely taken two steps when Silas barked: "Get back here! There's one—it slipped into a gap."
It was the same kind of ordinary kraft paper envelope. The recipient address was succinct: just the station name and Gideon Shaw's name, machine-printed on a narrow white label, like a credit card statement.
No return address.
The envelope was thin—no surprise, probably just a single sheet of printed paper inside.
Gideon Shaw stood in the hallway, spacing out, until Viktor Dunn suddenly appeared from inside and startled him.
He quickly folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.
Viktor Dunn had applied even more hair gel—somewhat overpowering. His regulation haircut now sported an exaggerated spike.
"Gideon, how do I look?"
Only then did Gideon Shaw notice he'd swapped his light blue short-sleeved police shirt for a nearly identical short-sleeved dress shirt. Looking closer, he'd changed his pants too—navy blue athletic slacks.
"Another blind date your mom set up?"
Viktor Dunn nodded.
"Why bother? Switching clothes makes zero difference."
Viktor Dunn stuck out his tongue and left.
Gideon Shaw reflected that Vik really did listen to his mother—they seemed to have a good relationship, unlike his own...
He snapped out of it, returned to his desk, and pulled out the letter tucked in his pocket. He tore it open—sure enough, just a single printed page.
It was a news article about a traffic accident somewhere—a truck rear-end collision, two dead, one injured.
Gideon Shaw's thoughts drifted to his own painful memories.
Winding mountain road, a muffled boom, boulders tumbling, dust billowing. Blinded eyes, flowing blood—some crawled out of the wreckage, some were trapped forever inside.
A colleague's metal thermos lid clattered onto the concrete floor, snapping Gideon Shaw back to the present.
He focused on the letter in front of him—still no sender information whatsoever.
This was the fourth one.
Each time it was a different car crash article. Different dates, different locations. The only constants: every crash had fatalities, and every letter arrived on a Wednesday. No other pattern.
Gideon Shaw suspected the mysterious sender was choosing these articles at random—the content seemed unimportant. What mattered was using the subject of car crashes itself to prod at his unresolved pain...