MTL - Psychological Control-Chapter 24

A few days later.

I was lying on the bed blankly, staring at the ceiling of the small rental house with an open eye. In retrospect, everything that happened was like a dream.

At the last moment, fbi finally arrived. I was treated as if they were victims and I received the same treatment as Jessica. A large, thick blanket draped over my shoulder. A female police officer helped me out of the scene and asked me to sit in the back of the ambulance.

Until I sat in the ambulance, after a long twenty minutes. I realized that it wasn't a female police officer who helped me out and sat comforting me for twenty minutes, but El Greenover. I was a well-known criminal expert in bau who had done investigations and talks in advance because of precautions.

That said, it was me who bau found.

I don't know what kind of mood I am thinking of.

Upon their inquiry, I calmly, without any pause, described the process of being held hostage by David. I even remember mentioning at the end that Jessica abused Tommy.

In fact, they didn't ask me immediately. They even persuaded me. If they don't want to remember now, they can go home and rest for a day.

But I refused, and my stubbornness made the whole story clear. I felt that only when I said it completely, I would lay down completely and sleep well.

It was horrible, and finally the expression of dimness in front of my nervousness. After so many years, someone finally made me talk.

From the rebirth five years ago, the shadow of being killed, Brian's memory, everything choked me. I have only discovered so far that I have spent so long in a state of psychological asphyxia.

Then, I drove through the downtown area at night in a police car. Derek Morgan sent me home.

Now think about it, how embarrassed by a group of people at the scene of the crime. Wearing a nondescript ol outfit, the gray body stood up from the ground. She even cried with a snot and a tear.

I turned over and sank my face into the pillow, with a mess in my head. The neat clothes stacked on the bedside table were still lent to me by Bau's elementary school Spencer Serde, his own clothes. Because the clothes I took off the scene of the crime scene, and the clothes I had on my body, all remained as evidence in the police station.

I have never seen David again. Although I knew from the police passing by, he asked to see me more than once. However, the police are obliged to isolate the victim from the prisoner, in order to prevent the victim from being harmed again.

It is certain that he will stay in prison until his death.

Because in addition to the case three years ago, the place where he threw the body in Miami was also found. Eighty-six women were killed. There are women, women, college students, and even underage girls.

Finally, after the matter of David came to an end. The day came when Stanford reported.

I went out early in the morning. I had already experienced the beginning of a university, but because I set foot on one of the most outstanding universities in the world for the first time, I was shaken by God.

This is the first time that Brian's thoughts have not come out and rumbling. Maybe this is what he wants? Standing out from more than 30,000 admissions applications, this may also just satisfy Brian's unwilling loneliness.

Walking across Stanford University's Qianmen Avenue, a palm grove looks like a soldier standing guard, watching every year new and old students come and go. Standing in front of the iconic red tile-shaped earthen arch, I couldn't help but clenched my hand that was pulling my backpack.

I wore the same clothes I used when I walked out of the psychiatric hospital for the first time two years ago. The Martin boots that were worn for two years were old but very durable.

Although Stanford University waived my tuition based on my financial problems and received a Pell bursary, apartment rents and living expenses are still a problem. Because I didn't plan to do extra odd jobs during college.

In order to save the salary and accumulate these expenses, in the past two years, I have never bought anything other than the clothes necessary for each season. The clothes on the whole body can be packed with only a small travel backpack, and there are only two or three pairs of shoes.

But I don't care because as long as you have enough confidence and ability, no one here will look down on you because you are poor.

On the day of school, there is an event where old students bring new students to familiarize themselves with the campus. There are also various community booths to recruit people. If you are lucky, you can get free small items, such as mugs, t-shirts, notebooks and other items.

I followed a small team led by the senior to visit the campus, and I was stopped by several girls to take photos. They followed me all the way, frolicking and pointing at me in the back, which made the boys around me always look at me with strange eyes, thinking about what I really do.

In fact, the feeling of being watched is pretty good, at least it shows that the influence of the National Supermodel Contest can bring some popularity to the contestants even if it has not been broadcast yet. These girls just recognized me from the hard photos on the official website.

After telling them my Twitter and tubing account numbers, and not hesitating to exchange messages with them, I left contentedly. The ability to circle fans has never been my weakness. In the early days of development, there were several diehard fans to help you Amway, and reposted on their Facebook and Twitter accounts, which is very beneficial for newcomers.

There was no class on the first day of school. I received my student ID card and school online account, and left the school carrying a bag of free stuff.

But my destination wasn't that tiny apartment. I transferred to San Francisco.

After David's incident, although my mind was full of chaotic thoughts, I still clearly realized the importance of a copy.

Whether it's because bau can find my uneasiness in such a short time. It was still the excitement of David's easy-to-disguise pseudonym. Through a previous landlord, I contacted an expert who was once famous in the industry and an expert in making false certificates within a week. The now retired expert opened a watch shop in San Francisco.

Although I don't know why the original landlord has such a connection. But on the day David was arrested, the landlord called out to comfort him, so I decided without hesitation to seize this opportunity.

I always thought that the old lady who could be called Mrs. Nan by the little punks on the street may not have a simple background. But being able to reach such strange people still surprised me.

The landlord wife who has been with me for two years knows me very well, and understands that I can easily find my uneasiness to the police and fbi. I was guilty before I was a thief, and I was worried that approaching Dexter with my true identity would be driven out by Sheriff Harry.

When I was at a loss for various reasons, Mrs. Nan looked in her eyes. She didn't ask anything, like two years ago, when I did n’t have the money to pay my rent because of my distress, I deliberately didn't mention it. She always gives me what I want silently when I have a great need for one thing.

This is a classic watch shop in a quiet side street in San Francisco.

Pushing open the wooden door inlaid with glass, the bell chime sounded beside the door, and the classical watch shop, which should be full of wood and sandalwood scent, had a **** smell.

I frowned and walked in, my footsteps fell lightly, without making a sound. If it is normal at this time, the owner of the watch shop should have heard the bell ringing out to entertain the guests.

I continued to walk in, opened the small door near the counter and walked into the counter. In my eyes was the body of the watch shop owner. And it seemed to have been shot dead. There was a gun eye on the head and the blood was dry, but it can still be seen that it was shot at close range.

I don't know what dangerous task the boss has taken, but he turned over in the gutter after he was old. I looked around this small workshop, took out a pack of paper towels from my backpack, took out two folded hands, and started to look for the □□ I asked him to make.

It seems that because the goods have been picked up in advance, the owner has already prepared things in advance. In a small stack of envelopes on the workbench, I found a fake card with my photo on it.

The name on the fake passport is Carl Black. Apart from the photos, the date of birth is different from that of Brian, but there is no difference at all from the real passport, and it is impossible to detect the difference through the customs identification machine. The fake certificate produced by this store even has a backup in the police database. It only needs to be changed to the photo of the fake certificate user.

I put away my documents and I was ready to leave. It's better to leave the alarm to the next kind person. I don't want to contact the police with much trouble.

However, it was unsatisfactory. I just got out of the small door behind the counter, and when I was about to leave the store, the door of the watch shop was pushed open again. I tilted my face aside and glanced at it without looking closely. It seemed like a man in a haute couture suit with a gentleman's hat, and a man with a plump mechanic look.

I passed quickly behind them, and just as I pushed open the wooden door of the watch shop to leave, the man in the gentleman's hat suddenly shouted, "Catch him, Peter!"

Before I could react, I heard a slight □□ insurance call, and then a low man's voice came from behind me, "No movement! Fbi, raise your hands!"

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