69-70

Chapter 69: Investigation

*Springwood, Pennsylvania*

“I don’t understand why the FBI would take such an interest in the suicide of a small-town kid,” the town sheriff said, expressing his puzzlement to Amanda and Agent Zhou, who had come to investigate.

“The suicide occurred around ten o’clock. Although the parents called an ambulance, the boy was already gone by the time it arrived. Blood gushed from the wound on his neck, dyeing his entire body red—it was impossible to stop,” the sheriff recounted as they walked toward the small town.

“I suspect it might have been an impulsive act triggered by adolescent conflict. Kids at that age—you never know what’s on their minds,” he added.

“No one should jump to conclusions before the investigation is complete,” Agent Zhou replied, his expression impassive.

The sheriff, slightly embarrassed by Zhou’s bluntness, fell silent.

“Is it always this desolate here?” Amanda asked, walking along the gloomy streets of Springwood.

“Springwood used to thrive—but that was back in the ’80s and ’90s,” the sheriff sighed, glancing down the town's deserted roads. “Back then, mining was a booming industry. Young, vibrant workers filled the town, and you could hear their cheerful singing from the bars every night.”

“But when the mines dried up and new environmental regulations were implemented, the prosperity vanished. Most residents left, and Springwood became the ghost of its former self.”

Springwood’s story mirrored that of many mining towns in America: built on finite resources, with hotels, schools, and power plants emerging around the mines. But when the resources were exhausted or metal prices plummeted, these towns collapsed into ruin.

---

*Springwood, Elm Street Church*

“For everything, there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal…”

Inside the church, an elderly priest recited verses from the Bible, offering final prayers for the deceased child.

The mourners attending the funeral wore somber expressions.

“We’re here,” the sheriff said as they arrived outside the church. He glanced at the grieving parents inside and shook his head. “Poor family. They must be devastated.”

Amanda looked toward the church. Her gaze swept over the priest at the altar and settled on the bereaved parents, who were visibly overcome with sorrow.

Out of respect for the funeral, Amanda and Zhou waited silently outside until the ceremony concluded.

“... God has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. Amen.”

The priest concluded the prayer, made the sign of the cross, and nodded to the child’s parents.

The father, suppressing his grief, patted his wife’s shoulder before turning to thank the mourners.

As the priest stepped down, closing his Bible, he approached the mother, gently shook his head, and murmured something softly.

“Who’s that?” Zhou asked, noticing the interaction.

“Lancaster Merlin, the town’s priest,” the sheriff replied, glancing at the church.

“He seems close to the parents,” Zhou observed.

“It’s not surprising, Agent. Springwood is a small town,” the sheriff said dismissively. “As the only priest here, Merlin knows everyone.”

Though the sheriff offered an explanation, Zhou remained skeptical. He detected something unusual in the mother’s grief-stricken expression.

With the town’s sparse population, few people had attended the funeral.

“The service is over,” Amanda noted as the father bid farewell to the last mourner.

Inside the church, the sheriff introduced Amanda and Zhou to the grieving parents. “Michael, these are FBI agents who have come to investigate your son’s case.”

The parents exchanged a startled look and glanced uneasily at the priest before asking, “Why would the FBI care about Duncan’s death?”

“I’m Amanda, and this is Agent William Zhou,” Amanda said, offering her condolences. “We’re here to investigate your son’s passing. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I don’t understand... Why?” the father began.

“We came across a livestream Duncan recorded before his death. It captured the entire incident,” Amanda explained.

“Oh my God,” the mother gasped, collapsing into her husband’s arms.

“It’s because of that video that we believe there’s more to Duncan’s death than meets the eye,” Amanda continued. “Michael, did you notice any unusual behavior or changes in Duncan before his passing?”

“Unusual behavior?” Michael shook his head. “No, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What about nightmares?” Amanda pressed.

“Duncan mentioned nightmares in the video—did he ever talk about them with you?”

At the mention of nightmares, the mother’s grief-stricken face flickered with something else. But at her husband’s subtle gesture, she lowered her head and resumed crying.

“I did hear Duncan mention nightmares,” Michael admitted. “But I thought it was normal. Everyone has bad dreams sometimes. I never imagined…”

---

Chapter 70: Growing Doubts

“He’s lying.”

After a brief questioning of the deceased's parents, they stepped out of the church where the funeral was being held.

Agent Zhou glanced back at the grieving Michael family inside the church and spoke in a low voice.

“The deceased’s mother clearly knows something, but she’s holding back.”

During Amanda’s questioning, Agent Zhou had kept his eyes on Duncan’s mother. He noticed her unusual reaction when the word "nightmare" came up—it was clear she knew something.

“And that priest, Merlin—there’s no way the relationship between the deceased’s family and him is as simple as the local sheriff claims. Whether it’s Michael or his wife, they kept glancing at the priest during the questioning, as if seeking his approval or afraid of something.”

“Or maybe the opposite—they rely on the priest for comfort, to avoid feeling scared about certain things.”

“Or perhaps, it’s both.”

Though Amanda and Agent Zhou had slightly differing opinions about the Michael family, they both agreed on one thing:

The deceased’s parents were definitely hiding something.

“So, is this another case involving the supernatural?”

“Maybe...”

Amanda frowned and answered uncertainly.

The video footage of Duncan’s death was indeed odd, but it alone wasn’t enough to confirm that supernatural forces were involved.

After all, in America, bizarre deaths are not uncommon. It’s impossible to determine whether this was due to supernatural factors or simply a tragic suicide.

---

“Well, officers, it looks like just a plain old suicide case.”

“There’s nothing more to investigate.”

The sheriff emerged from the church a little later than them. Adjusting his belt, he looked at the two agents and spoke.

“You seem very eager for us to close this case,” Agent Zhou said coldly, staring at the small-town sheriff.

“I’m not, officer,” the sheriff replied, though his gaze faltered briefly before he quickly added an explanation.

“From now on, the FBI is taking over this case,” Zhou declared. “I expect your full cooperation, not further doubts.”

The sheriff’s face darkened under Zhou’s aggressive demeanor. After a moment of silence, he reluctantly nodded.

“Understood, sir.”

“I’ll accompany the family to the suicide site to investigate the notebook for clues. You handle the local investigation,” Zhou said.

Without waiting for a response, Zhou turned to Amanda, his tone firm and detached as always.

“A fact about Agent Zhou,” Amanda said, watching Zhou’s retreating figure before turning to the sheriff. “He’s always... well, unrelenting in his approach.”

She added reassuringly, “So if he said or did something that made you uncomfortable, I apologize on his behalf. Please don’t take it to heart, Sheriff.”

“No worries, ma’am,” the sheriff replied, his expression softening slightly.

Glancing towards the church, the sheriff offered a word of caution:

“The people of Springwood aren’t particularly friendly to outsiders. If you’re going to investigate, you’ll need to be patient.”

Amanda nodded. “Who were Duncan’s friends in town?”

Recalling the boy’s mention of “us” in the video, Amanda gave the sheriff her answer almost immediately.

“Friends?” The sheriff hesitated briefly before responding. “I know Duncan used to hang out with a group of kids, including Nancy. But now that you mention it, it’s strange—they didn’t attend his funeral…”

Hearing the sheriff’s confused tone, Amanda lowered her gaze, hiding a faint smile.

The classic good cop, bad cop routine—old but effective.

---

“So, you were friends with Duncan?”

In Springwood, on Elm Street, Amanda met Nancy, one of Duncan’s friends—a short-haired blonde girl.

“Springwood’s a small town. We were born and raised here, and we’re about the same age, so naturally, we played together,” Nancy replied, looking a bit uneasy.

“Did Duncan have any conflicts with anyone recently?” Amanda asked.

“No,” Nancy said, shaking her head. She glanced briefly at Amanda before lowering her gaze again. “We all got along well. Duncan wasn’t the kind to pick fights—he preferred to be alone most of the time.”

“Then why didn’t you attend his funeral to say goodbye?”

At this, Nancy hesitated. “A lot of people aren’t ready to accept that Duncan’s gone. They didn’t want to go to the church and see him, out of fear...”

“I’m sorry, Nancy, but Duncan really is gone. I just came from his funeral. You all need to come to terms with this.”

The sheriff, standing behind Amanda, spoke up to comfort the girl.

Nancy glanced up at Amanda once more before lowering her head, her face marked with sadness.

Watching the girl’s repeated glances, Amanda raised an eyebrow.

At first, she thought Nancy’s unease was due to her own presence.

But now, it seemed that wasn’t the case.

If it wasn’t because of Amanda, then what?

Turning her head, Amanda glanced at the sheriff standing behind her.

Her eyes flickered with understanding as she said, “Sheriff, could you step outside for a moment?”

The sheriff hesitated briefly, looking at Amanda and Nancy. Then, with a reluctant nod, he adjusted his belt and left the room.

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