Kirk wondered, should he continue?
Honestly, Kirk wasn't sure what he was doing, stalking Wallace? And then hoping that Wallace would kill again tonight?
If not, what can we expect to see from Wallace's daily life?
To prove that your judgment is correct, or to prove that your judgment is wrong?
Otherwise——
Just out of arrogance.
He refused to admit that he had not been able to find a better breakthrough, and thought that he could solve the case and uncover the truth, but in the end it was all in vain.
He refused to admit that he had spent a lot of time and energy, but in essence, like Adrian, he had made no progress, and those strategies were nothing but a joke.
Is he willing to admit it?
Surveillance seems to have no purpose and is a pure waste of time.
Then, he saw——
Wallace buried his face completely in his hoodie, took a deep, heavy breath, and kept breathing in for a long time.
It seemed as if he was using every cell in his body to feel it to the limit, until his face turned red, until his veins bulged, until the oxygen in his lungs was burned out. Then he let out a long breath, closed his eyes, and savored the aftertaste lingering on the tip of his nose.
An enjoyment, an immersion.
--shudder!
Kirk could clearly feel goosebumps crawling up his tailbone. It was not fear, but a fleeting shock, like ants.
The next second, I felt a complex feeling of shock and horror extending along my spinal nerves to my limbs like an electric current, and I couldn't help but shudder.
Then.
Wallace did not repeat himself a second time. Instead, he folded his clothes neatly into a block of tofu and stuffed it into his backpack without attracting any attention.
After finishing his preparations, Wallace shuddered. The temperature difference between day and night in New York in spring was still obvious, and there was basically no difference between late night and winter. He pulled his coat tighter, secretly hoping that the police responsible for spot checks at the subway station tonight would not go crazy, otherwise it would take some effort to explain.
He jogged all the way with light steps, as if humming a melody and stepping to the beat, and he seemed to be rapping on the spot as he rushed towards the subway station.
The tall and strong figure couldn't help but curl up into a ball, but then he did chest expansion movements to stretch his body and smiled again.
Neon lights gently passed across Wallace's face, red, yellow, purple... colorful and brilliant, and finally all disappeared into the night.
Wallace, disappearing at the subway station entrance—
A shiver ran along the soles of his feet, and Kirk's scalp went numb. His intuitive radar sounded again, and his pounding heart couldn't stop at all, and his eardrums roared.
Without hesitation, he started the engine, turned the steering wheel, and the car merged into the still endless , heading north.
Target, Bronx.
Perhaps, to some people, the scene just now was not uncommon.
Most people don't like the smell of blood, but there are a small number of people who like this special smell of rust.
Moreover, there is a small number of people who are olfactory animals, like dogs, and tend to perceive the world through smell.
You need to smell the dirty clothes before throwing them into the washing machine, you need to smell them after sweating profusely after playing basketball, and you also need to smell the hot food after it is served.
Etc., etc.
In different situations and places, they are accustomed to using smell to perceive rather than vision, hearing or touch.
This is completely normal.
but!
Kirk noticed Wallace's body language.
A feeling of immersion, enjoyment and joy, the muscle lines from shoulders to neck slowly stretch out.
Although it is not clear from a distance, the emotions radiating from the inside out are so bright, as if I was holding freshly dried clothes in my hands, and I could smell the aroma of detergent and the scent of sunshine in the gaps between the fibers and cotton fabrics. I couldn't help but breathe deeply, again and again.
Closing his eyes, Kirk could imagine that figure in his mind—
After cutting the throat, take a deep breath of the bloody smell splashing in the air, feel the tremendous force of blood gushing from the aorta and the warmth that almost burns the fingertips, then slowly reveal a satisfied expression, enjoy the process of life gradually passing away, and finally cut off a little finger as a commemoration.
Creepy.
Kirk's fingertips were slightly wet , as if he could feel the temperature and viscosity of the blood, and the bloody smell was faint under his nostrils.
Hualalalal——
The howling wind rushed in, and the bloody smell that did not exist at all was also sucked into it and disappeared into thin air.
I opened the car window and felt the chill of the early spring night in this city. I kept my brain clear and scanned the flowing light and shadows with my peripheral vision. The red, yellow and blue halos merged into streamlines, outlining the contours of the city, and the concentrated focus silently melted away in the haze.
All the way to Hangz Point.
This is where Chris Adams was found. He is the first victim confirmed so far; it is also the only way Wallace can take to get home.
Kirk parked the car diagonally opposite the subway station exit and quietly hid his figure in the night. The advantages of this old Ford were reflected:
It doesn't look out of place even in the Bronx. Maybe it's not the first choice of local residents, but it doesn't look out of place at all, and it's perfectly hidden when parked on the side of the road.
The best home companion for surveillance.
Keep your eyes and ears open, and wait quietly.
five minutes.
Crunch, crunch. Kirk picked up the pizza and stuffed it into his mouth again. Even though it was cold, the cold pizza still had a unique flavor and was very delicious.
Actually, Kirk was not hungry for the time being. After all, a whole plate of pizza was a bit too much for one person. Mainly considering the all-night surveillance tonight, he hesitated whether he should reserve some pizza as a midnight snack, but his right hand had already made the decision before his brain.
tasty.
ten minutes.
Kirk looked down at the time on the car radio. He suspected that he had been delayed on the road and missed the opportunity, and Wallace had already returned home safely.
I was thinking whether I should go to Wallace's house to find a stop and continue to follow him, when a group of passengers came out of the subway station.
The crowd scattered in different directions in chaos and disorder. There was no dialogue or communication. Everyone focused on his own path and moved forward in silence.
Then, Kirk saw the figure.
Tall, big, strong.
Thrown into the crowd, it stands out even more.
At this time, he was wearing headphones and had an old-fashioned Walkman in his pocket. It looked like a cassette player, not even a CD.
In 2012 , such antiques have become a fashion, but not everyone can find them if they want.
He did not go straight towards the apartment, but walked towards the convenience store on the corner. In less than three minutes, he came out with a plastic bag, fist-bumped and shook hands with the thugs loitering in front of the convenience store, greeted them with a giggle, and chatted for a short while before walking again.
direction--
It is still not an apartment, and is even in the opposite direction of an apartment.
One step, then another.
Cross the intersection.
Go straight and gradually approach Kirk's position.
Getting closer.
Closer!