The dismembered Matthew Brown, who had bought her painting and had lost his left arm, was murdered here.
Curious bystanders gathered to spectate the scene.
The crowd was thick with onlookers.
There were murmurs with discussions centering around the grotesque death and the lunacy of the killer.
Yvonne Finley, unwilling to stay, left the scene.
She covered her mouth and nose with her scarf, as if merely hearing about it made her nauseous from the stench of blood.
She was already having trouble breathing.
Now, her stomach and throat felt uncomfortable.
Yvonne Finley knocked on the car window, saying to Jane, "You go and turn the car around, I'll go to the convenience store on the other side and buy a bottle of water."
Jane nodded in agreement.
Yvonne Finley quickly crossed the road to the 24-hour convenience store.
The store was enormous.
She found the drinks section and picked up a bottle of mineral water she usually drank. She went to the cashier where there were two people in the queue.
While replying to Warrior Tucker on WeChat, Yvonne Finley casually scanned the situation ahead.
The first person in line paid and left.
The man in front of her was tall and wore a black baseball cap. From her angle, she could see a neat jawline and fair skin. There was just one step between them, and she faintly caught a light, cold fragrance from him.
Suddenly.
Yvonne Finley's gaze was glued to the back of his head.
— Was this man the one who'd stepped over her car earlier?
As Yvonne Finley was lost deep in thought, the man had already stepped forward to the cashier. He turned his broad shoulder slightly, seemingly checking out the goods on the side shelf.
Two seconds later, he lifted his hand and pulled two small boxes off the shelf. They had English labels, and there was a line stating it was a pack of ten.
Every adult knew what they were.
He casually tossed them to the cashier who was saying, "Check out."
After speaking.
The man coughed softly, his voice sounding deep, like a high-quality subwoofer. He seemed to have a cold.
He must have been on a call as he lethargically told the person in his earphone, "I got two boxes, should be enough."
Yvonne Finley: "..."
"Yeah, the quality is good, durable."
"..."
After the cashier scanned the codes, he paid.
The payment was successful, and he put the items in the pocket of his black jacket. As he turned around, Yvonne Finley immediately looked ahead, acting as if she hadn't paid attention to his conversation and movements.
She could still hear the lazy tone of his voice as he passed by her, "I'm only going for one night, twenty of them, enough to have some fun."
Yvonne Finley: "..."
In a daze.
The moment the man passed by her, the corner of his eyes glanced at her face.
He paused slightly.
Someone spoke on the earphone again, and he took back his gaze, striding out of the store.
Yvonne Finley listened to his retreating footsteps before turning to look towards the entrance.
This man—
Quite presumptuous.
Pretending to be strong in a weak state.
Twenty in one night?
One per second, perhaps?
The unusual encounter had ended. Jane had driven around to pick up Yvonne Finley.
After the man left in his Land Rover.
Under the dim street light diagonal to the convenience store.
The yellow light spread in the darkness. A motorbike of an unknown brand was parked on the side of the road. The man was standing beside it, one foot on the pedal, the other on the ground. His long legs seemed endless in the visual perspective. He was putting on his gloves while lifting his eyes, looking in the direction the Land Rover had taken off. A soft, unnoticeable smile crept on his face.
In the earphone, the man he was talking to made a half-joking remark, "It's rare to find someone as quirky as you. You sure know a lot of ways to use a condom."
Caleb Baker squinted his eyes, fastened his helmet. His eyes and eyebrows under the highlight seemed cold, but radiated an unconventional aura, "Bringing other equipment is too cumbersome. Condoms are not just for sex, there are many other uses in wilderness adventures."
"Just by the few words you just said, someone might get the wrong impression about you. Those who know, know you're always off on your adventures, and you bring condoms because they're easier to pack than certain equipment. Those out of the loop though, might think you're doing it twenty times in one night, that's quite the performance."
Caleb Baker glanced at his wristwatch, "Afraid? I'm not going to sleep with her, so it doesn't matter."
The person on the other end of the phone seemed to realize something and quickly became serious, "You...just stay away from women, your body can't take it."
Caleb Baker casually responded, "Don't worry, I'm good-looking, it would be a shame to not live for a few more years and make you jealous for a few more years."
The other party: "…" Goddamnit, he shouldn't have reminded him in the first place.
Deciding not to deal with this reckless friend who had a tongue like a machine gun, he asked again, "Are you not coming to the hospital today? You still need to have your blood drawn."
"I won't go." Caleb Baker adjusted his helmet, "Tonight, I'm partying."
The other party: "Alright then, which mountain are you conquering this time?"
"Mount Azure."
"It's at an altitude of two thousand and one, right? Don't you have a job interview for a short-term gig tomorrow? Can you make it back in time? And right after you got back from Tibet, you're running off to climb such a high mountain right away, what kind of freakish stamina do you have?"
It's too bad he was just worrying if Caleb Baker would accidentally fall for a woman. Instead, it appeared Caleb had a greater attraction for outdoor extreme sports than for women.
Not to mention sex...
Wait a second—
The man on the phone was slow to react, "…Her?"
"Who's the 'her' you were talking about a minute ago?"
That was just a joke, but by Caleb Baker's tone, there was an actual 'person'?
Caleb Baker kicked up the support of the motorbike, pressed down the helmet's wind shield, revved up the engine, and his abrupt yet defiant laugh was hidden under the roar of the wind.
"Hmm, a beautiful lady."
The other party: "......"
Two seconds later.
"????"
＊
＊
By the time she reached her gallery, it was almost eleven at night.
She had been back in town for a few months and had opened a gallery in Chelsea. It displayed famous paintings from around the world that she had collected, as well as her works that had won international awards. The gallery was named "Yvonne", from her name.
It had just been renovated not long ago.
She was currently hiring staff.
Although she had a separate residence, she stayed more often at the gallery.
"Sister Yvonne, are your feet in bad condition? Should I stay and take care of you?" Jane asked worriedly.
Yvonne Finley had already moved towards the bathroom, throwing the black jacket on her arm into the washing machine. Shaking her head and responding softly upon hearing Jane's words, "Don't worry, it's not serious. I'm not that delicate."
Jane, aware of Yvonne Finley's personality, repeated her instructions a few more times before leaving reluctantly.
In the large three-story gallery, only Yvonne Finley remained.
She hopped over to her record player on her injured foot and turned it on.
The song was in English.
It was called "Utopiosphere".
A song she listened to every day.
Accompanied by the soft female voice from the record, she lay tiredly on her bed. She rested for a while before picking up her phone to casually scroll through Weibo.
As if a pair of eyes called "big data" were watching.
Suddenly.
A piece of news about a rescue team appeared in her Weibo feed.