When the car headlights flashed past the blinds, the lead-gray wall became like the keys of an old piano, and the man's black silhouette strolled across it. He walked to the filing cabinet by the wall, opened the top drawer, ran his fingers through layer after layer of files, and selected one.
The fan blades made a soft clicking sound, while the papers on the desk rustled in the breeze. On a sweltering summer night, the air in the police station office was a gloomy gray. The television in the corner was playing a midnight commercial:
"Qile Circus has the most amazing animal friends, thrilling acrobatic performances, and everyone's favorite puppet master and Magic Power witch show! Our New Coast tour is about to begin. Come with us to Big Valley Town and embark on this wonderful, exciting adventure!"
As his fingers turned the pages, black-and-white photographs from one crime scene after another appeared before him: a charred pit and scattered human bones, the blurred corpse of a girl, muddy footprints, and bloody handprints on the wall...
At last, the man's gaze settled on the title at the top of the file—"Big Valley Town Family Massacre, 1939."
Knock, knock, knock. Someone knocked on the door. The Sheriff put down his newspaper and went to answer it. When he opened the door, he saw a man in a police uniform standing outside the office.
He could not quite be called middle-aged. His face was still fairly youthful, but the stern expression on it and his solemn demeanor lent him a measure of maturity. The Sheriff walked over, shook his hand, and said, "Police Commissioner of Xivi City, Bauer Sisyphus. Just call me Bauer."
"Peter Parker. I just arrived from Chicago."
"I heard. A standout graduate from the Chicago Police Academy." The