Chapter 18: The First Night

When Juan received Roger's request, he got in the car without a word, carrying his backpack.

Jose also rushed into the car excitedly, then pressed his face against the window, looking back and forth. This book is originally published on twchaokepu; enjoy error-free, non-disordered chapters.

Not long after, the two men and the dog bought some food and drink and returned to the Anarchic Community.

However, when Roger parked the car in a secluded corner and tried to invite Juan into the garage with him, Juan refused.

"I'll sleep in the car," Juan said, then patted the mastiff's head: "Jose, don't you think the car's fine too?"

"Woof!" Jose let out a low bark.

"Alright," Roger nodded. Fiona hadn't given him permission to bring anyone in.

It was better for Juan to sleep in the car—otherwise, once the garage door closed, it would be hard to see what was happening outside.

Roger tidied up the back of the car, then watched as the man laid out the mat.

"To be honest, I haven't slept in a car in a long time," Juan said, leaning back against the seat, hands clasped behind his head.

"Yeah, all because of damn laws."

Roger wanted to complain about this too.

In Meilijian, many cities prohibit living in cars—or rather, they crack down hard on homeless people who sleep in them.

If the police catch you sleeping in your car at night, you'll get a fine.

To prevent people from tinting windows too darkly, many states even require that window film be transparent enough for outsiders to see inside—otherwise, it's illegal.

Because of this law, many community members keep watch on vehicles in their neighborhoods; if they spot someone living in a car, they immediately call the police.

But in Xin Yidunweier Shequ, no one needs to worry about this—residents come home after work and never leave their houses, and the police don't patrol here.

After getting out of the car, Roger walked into Fiona's yard and used his key to open the garage door.

"Whoosh!"

As he lifted the door, he saw a garage floor covered in dust, walls lined with repair tools, and oil drums stacked in the corner.

He set down his backpack, then grabbed a broom and cleaned the entire garage inside and out.

Next, he set up the tent, took out biscuits and bread, and ate a few bites.

"Now we just wait for nightfall."

Since this was a horror under moonlight, midnight was surely when the killer struck.

Roger touched the pistol in his shoulder bag, hoping he wouldn't have to use it.

After closing the garage door, he charged his phone while watching the neighborhood through the small window.

Then, at five in the afternoon, Fiona's car returned.

But the first person to step out was a light-brown-skinned girl wearing flared jeans and a T-shirt printed with a skull.

One ear had earbuds in, she slung her backpack over one shoulder, her other hand was in her pocket, and faint tattoos were visible on her wrist.

She looked nearly identical to the girl in the family photo, only a bit older.

Fiona stepped out right after her, and the two talked as they walked.

You didn't need to know what they were saying—just from the girl's impatient expression, you could tell Fiona was scolding her.

Roger smiled, feeling as if he'd seen his younger self.

When the two entered the yard, Fiona glanced at the garage.

There, the man from earlier was smiling and waving through the glass.

"Who's that?" Natasha asked, surprised and sarcastic: "Fiona, are you already trying to find me a stepdad? He looks pretty young."

Fiona rolled her eyes: "Look at your sour attitude—where did you learn that? That's not your stepdad. He's a reporter. He's investigating the murders in our community."

"Really?" Natasha perked up: "Can I talk to him?"

"No!"

Fiona pushed her daughter through the door: "You stay in the living room. After dinner, go straight to your room."

"So boring," Natasha tossed her backpack onto the sofa and slumped down: "I wanted to go out and skateboard."

"You're not going anywhere!" Fiona planted her hands on her hips like a battle hen and shouted: "Unless you want that serial killer to target you!"

Natasha rolled her eyes: "It's not that scary!"

"Robbie's from the Crips—he'll protect us," she said, then got up and stomped back to her room, slamming the door.

Fiona shook her head helplessly.

An hour later, someone knocked on the garage door.

Roger had been browsing online when he heard the knock—he jumped up and opened the door.

Since the garage door was locked from the inside, anyone else had to enter through the front door.

"Mrs. Fiona, what's wrong?" Roger asked, seeing the Black woman outside.

He feared she might suddenly change her mind and kick him out.

But Fiona didn't seem to have that intention—in fact, she held two paper takeout boxes filled to the brim with meat sauce pasta, the aroma rich and inviting.

"Here," Fiona handed the boxes to Roger.

"Thank you, but why two?"

"I saw someone lying in your car, didn't I?"

"Uh," Roger said awkwardly: "He's my good friend. I was worried that if the killer shows up, I won't be able to handle him alone."

Fiona nodded: "Then you'd better keep him in the garage until after nine—otherwise, those gangs will question him."

"Oh, thanks, I understand," Roger said, surprised that even the community gangs checked cars.

Fiona continued: "Also, you can only stay here two days. I've already told Robbie—he'll be watching you."

"Don't worry, I get it," Roger said, pulling out his wallet and taking out a hundred dollars.

"This is from Vanessa—your husband never got to collect it."

Fiona was slightly surprised, but she still took the money: "Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's what I should do."

After seeing Mrs. Fiona off, Roger lay back down in the tent, picked up his phone, and sent a text: "I've given the money to Mrs. Fiona."

Vanessa: "Thank you."

Afterwards, Roger called Juan.

Not long after, Juan and Jose entered the garage together.

After finishing their meat sauce pasta, they were finally full.

Then one kept watch while the other rested, and they stayed like this until eight o'clock at night.

Nightfall enveloped the neighborhood; most houses near the street had a light on.

Simultaneously, the sound of televisions inside the houses could be heard.

The same was true in Fiona's house—the sound was faintly audible even to Roger in the garage.

Meanwhile, several gang members gathered in groups of three or five beside cars, some trading, some smoking; their tattoos and body art were strikingly visible.

Seeing this, Roger decided the killer would not strike at this time, so he sat on the chair and waited until Juan and the other gang members left.

At 9:30 p. m., the gang members gradually departed, and Juan brought Jose back to the car.

The two agreed to contact each other via phone, switching shifts every three hours, constantly monitoring the neighborhood.

Yet, after an entire night passed, nothing happened.