Wine and Gun

——Herstal's eyes swept past the crowd like a knife, and his voice was as cold as a judgment. Then he said something unexpected.

"In 1987, at St. Anthony's Church in White Oak, Kentucky, Kabbah Slade sexually assaulted me," he said.

Chapter 102 Secret Rose 06

Midalun hurried to the safety exit. Beyond the back door of the store was a dark alley, except for a few rusty trash cans in the corners of the wall; the street lights were far away, and the brightness varied greatly. He stumbled involuntarily at Midalen's feet. Fortunately, he stopped in time, held his breath, and crept out of the door: he wasn't sure what he would see outside, even if there were no psycho killers, desperate drug dealers were not what he wanted to deal with. Object.

There are three people standing under the street lamp in the distance, the shadows under their feet are drawn long by the lamp. The shorter one was the Jason Friedman they were thinking of, and the other young man standing beside Friedman seemed to be having a good time with Friedman. One of his friends, and the suspected drug dealer was tall and tall, his head was tightly covered by a hoodie, and his face was completely immersed in the black shadow of the street lamp.

Midaren hid in the corner and didn't plan to go forward at all: his and Hunter's goal was just to stay as a Sunday gardener, and he had no rash idea of ​​rushing out to stop the drugs, which would only kill him. So he just held his breath and tried to listen to those few people talking.

Friedman seemed to be complaining: "The last time I came, it wasn't this price..."

"It's been several months since you last came here," his friend retorted with a smile, "prices are going up every minute, not to mention the price of the two Normans after the accident. It's moving, I heard that it hasn't stopped in the East District."

And the silent drug dealer suddenly chose to answer at this time, he said abruptly: "Besides, this kind of expense is only a drop in the bucket compared to your other hobbies."

Friedman raised his head suddenly and asked cautiously, "...What are you talking about?"

"I mean," repeated the drug dealer nicely, "the last year you donated at least $150,000 to the Anonymous Thompson Foundation, earmarked for the construction of the club at Sequoia Manor, at that time. , you are much more generous than you are now."

Friedman seemed to let out a gasp, and his ignorant friend cast a horrified look at Friedman, apparently thinking that the speculations in the newspapers were just rumors, and that his friend did not. Maybe it really has something to do with Sequoia Manor: "You—?"

The young man who was involved in this dispute for no reason was unable to ask more questions, and the drug dealer made a sudden move—Midallen didn’t see his movements clearly, and the drug dealer’s back also covered the bodies of the other two. Hold on—then the innocent young man took a staggering step back, his expression contorted.

Midalen saw it clearly this time. He saw the man had a knife stuck in his chest, and blood was gurgling from the wound.

The innocently involved addict fell to his knees tremblingly, and soon fell silently on the dusty pavement of the alley. At the same time, the drug dealer had already imprisoned Friedman with his arms, covering his mouth and nose with a cloth-like object; Friedman struggled for more than ten seconds, and then fainted softly. past.

During this process, Midalen held his breath almost the whole time: he realized that just watching here is not the way, Hunter still hasn't come, maybe he hasn't seen his message yet, if he procrastinates again, this Both were dead.

This thought flashed through Midalun's mind, and he rushed out the next second. By the time he realized what he was doing, he was already standing in the middle of the alley, clutching a knife as tightly as a life-saving straw in his hand—the knife that Herstal Armalite was at the time. It was given to him at Sequoia Manor, later confiscated by the police as evidence, and turned back to him after Slade's interrogation.

"Let him go!" Midaren yelled at the drug dealer—a 100 percent Sunday gardener—realizing that his hand holding the knife was shaking again, "I've called the police!"

This is a lie. It happened too fast. Midalun didn't have time to call the police since he rushed out of the safety exit. Moreover, the alley was too dark. As soon as he turned on the brightness of the phone screen, he would definitely reveal his location. .

"Besides," said a small voice in his heart, "is this the right thing to do? This man has murdered those children, and if Sequoia Manor continues to exist, he may murder you too - it's worth saving his life. Is it right? What is right? Is there any point in all this struggle?"

The other party let go of his hand, the limp body fell silently to the ground, the man turned to him, and his facial features were still immersed in a thick shadow.

The next second, the man suddenly moved.

——Midaren didn’t quite understand what happened. When he recalled this scene in the future, his memory would only be torn to shreds by a deep sense of fear. A monster emerging from the dark.

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