Try Begging - Chapter 169.1
“Ha…”
To think she’d even bring the baby here. As if to boast about the fruits of some tender love.
This child wasn’t the son of that kind-hearted boy. The boy from Abbington Beach has been dead for a long time. Daisy should’ve been dead too, yet here she was, back at the place where everything began, unable even to finish off Grace Riddle.
‘No. I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to leave myself behind.’
As Grace held the child, who was curling up in her arms and looking drowsy, she muttered to herself.
Once you’re gone, I will leave.
º º º
Even though it was November, on the cusp of fall and winter, the south was warm enough that the trench coat felt heavy. When the window was opened, a cool, damp breeze carrying the scent of the sea rushed into the taxi.
The taxi sped down the road dividing the shopping district and the beach, having left the area near the train station. The bustling area, usually lively until past midnight during peak season, was eerily quiet now in the off-season.
Leon, who had been gazing distantly out the window, lifted his head as they passed the entrance to the carnival. Soon, the Ferris wheel, towering against the black sky, came into view.
It’s still there.
Its dark, unmoving form seemed as though time had stopped forever in that moment. Perhaps memories are like that—like the closed carnival, lying dormant until, in a single moment of recollection, the lights flicker on, and it comes back to life.
The switch of memory clicked on in that instant.
The boy, who had kissed the girl at the top of the Ferris wheel, suddenly turned his head, his gaze sharp with reproach. The silent cry echoed in his ears.
Fool.
I told you to say what I didn’t know.
As he leaned his arm on the car window and buried his face in his hand, the taxi came to a stop in front of a white brick building after crossing a few hills.
Leon put on the sunglasses he had tucked in his jacket pocket.
“You stay here.”
He left Pierce in the taxi and, accompanied by Campbell, headed towards the building’s entrance. As Campbell rang the bell at the gate, the door opened, and a middle-aged man greeted them with a nervous smile.
“Mr. Hopper?”
“Yes, that’s right. Please come in.”
The real estate agent led the two men up to the third floor, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.
“I had no idea the gold bullion was under investigation…”
“You don’t need to worry. It’s not involved in any crimes.”
Hopper let out a sigh of relief at the young officer’s words. He had sold one gold bar he had received as rent last spring and two additional ones he bought in the summer to the bank a week ago. After receiving a call from the military today, he had spent the whole day imagining ominous possibilities.
As he stopped in front of apartment 303, he took out the key from his pocket and slowly opened the door. The neat and orderly interior revealed no signs of recent occupancy or warmth.
“She left two months ago, you said?”
The man who had been silent until now stepped inside with a commanding tone.
“Yes.”
Although the young man, who appeared to be about his nephew’s age, acted arrogantly, Hopper had to respond politely. Despite his civilian clothes, the man exuded an authoritative presence and attitude that suggested he was a high-ranking military officer.
“Why?”
“Actually, Mrs. Baker…”
Before Hopper could explain, the man snorted derisively.
“That woman, did she go by the name Mary Baker?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Leon took a deep breath, suppressing his rising anger. It was as if that woman had anticipated him tracking down this place and had left a mocking message for him.
“Continue.”
“Yes, actually, the Missus wanted to extend the contract for another month or two, but the landlord refused, saying that short-term contracts were only available during the summer.”
Since then, the apartment has remained vacant and unsold. Leon had to suppress his anger once again. If the contract had been extended, he would have already finished his year-long pursuit of Grace and the child at this very moment.
But it wasn’t all despair. The six months of anguish had come to an end. Grace and the child were alive. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he had spent the past half-year just finding out that one thing.
“Did the woman live alone?”
“From what I know, yes.”
“She must have taken the child with her when she moved out?”
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