Wine and Gun

"Okay, I was injured suddenly, and the people in our group panicked." Hardy comforted, and then quickly returned to the subject, "What about Slade? Best stayed with me for a while. , without giving details."

Olga sneered: "It's not complicated, in short, none of your good colleagues could have imagined that if Herstal escaped from prison, Slade would be in danger, or that they all ignored Hestal. Starr's determination to get things done.

"Anyway, no one remembered to warn the nursing home nurses that there might be danger, and then someone visited that nursing home yesterday morning and said he was one of Slade's guardians. He provided the nurse with a copy of the time and the nursing home. The signed agreement—which was later compared with the copy kept in the nursing home, proved to be forged—of course, the nurse on duty at the time did not check the authenticity of the agreement. Who would have thought that someone would rush into the nursing home to kidnap? That person offered to bring Slade went for a walk, and suddenly the man was left alone pushing Slade's wheelchair. After all, this was 'alone time for family members'.

"As a result, the two disappeared for several hours as soon as they went for a 'walk', and when the nurses in the nursing home realized that something was wrong, the two of them didn't know where they were going."

Olga recounted the entire incident in a disdainful tone. Indeed, this plan sounded almost sloppy, but it was unbelievably smooth. It's been so long since the trial in May that sometimes they almost forget that Slade was the source of everything, and of course the pianist couldn't.

"Has the suspect been pictured?" Hardy asked.

"Yes, it looks completely different from Herstal." Olga shook his head, "Either this matter has nothing to do with Herstal at all, or it is the matter of him hiring someone - from the sanatorium It’s much easier to take away a person who can’t stand up even at one station than to rob a bank, and there are dozens of people who are willing to help him with this kind of thing if you look for it from all kinds of gangs.”

She finished the sentence, then kept silent - they had come to an end, and in a sense, the police department was completely at a disadvantage. Hardy frowned, rubbing his fingers over the still aching wound on his body.

Then he asked, "He really wanted to kill me, didn't he?"

"You're not the first person to ask me this kind of question. We always feel that since we hold a certain position in other people's minds, others will show mercy to us," Olga said calmly, "but that's not the case. - He will kill anyone who tries to get in his way."

"The way forward?"

"The road to survival, or the road to final peaceful death." Olga smiled, "I don't think it makes any difference to Herstal, I'd rather call it peace of mind. Place."

Then they fell silent again—only the white snow was slowly falling outside the window, slowly falling on a windless night, almost fluffy and warm to the touch. It was quiet in the ward, the children murmured in the corners, as if Midaron was talking to the little girl, and Clara broke out into a shrill laugh or two every now and then.

They are trying to hang a confetti star on the top of the Christmas tree, the Star of Bethlehem, and follow the direction of the rising star to find Jesus who was born in the stable. But it was a snowy and starless night, and the Three Magi from the East could not find the right direction.

Hardy stared at Olga, who had recently changed to a sharp, metallic prosthesis that looked cold and hard, and that was the price they paid for the path they had chosen, as did the scars on his skin. They have come too far down this road, and the time to turn back has long passed.

After a long silence Hardy said slowly, slowly: "What's next, Olga?"

Olga looked at him, then her lips curled up in a smile.

"I don't know," she admitted bluntly, "but I know it's almost over -- at least for us, it's almost over."

December 25, 2017, Christmas.

When Olga opened the door in her furry nightgown, the snow had stopped and a thick layer of white had accumulated in the yard. The roses with their leaves on the yard wall showed hideous branches from under the snow, and there was only a little black in the pale yard.

It was still too early, it was too late for them to return from the hospital the night before, and Midalen and Hunter were drinking eggnog again - Midalon was drinking a soft drink without alcohol - and watched "Love Actually" again. ”, although Olga didn’t understand the whole series of behaviors, but all in all, the rest of the house was still in dreamland at this time.

Olga stood in the silent courtyard, looking down at what was under her feet: a letter sat upright on the small glass table on the porch, without stamps or addresses, with a bunch of Tiny bouquets of holly, pine cones and silver willows.

Olga walked over calmly, pulled the envelope out from under the bouquet, opened the envelope, and unfolded the letter.

There were only a few short lines written on the letter paper, and the handwriting was gracefully slanted slightly to one side. From the perspective of writing, the letter was written by a left-handed person.

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