When the Wind is Sweet: The Fairy Tale of Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster-Chapter 523: An Essay from 20 Years Ago
"No, no." Adrian Lancaster said with a smile, quickly explaining, "You don’t have to worry, it has nothing to do with you, Mr. Reynolds hasn’t done anything wrong either."
The simple middle-aged woman looked at her with skepticism.
Adrian Lancaster stated his purpose directly, "Here’s the thing, I heard that around 2004, Mr. Reynolds had a daughter who got lost. We now have information about his daughter’s whereabouts, and we want to contact him."
The woman was entirely unaware of this matter.
"Um... Ma’am, is it okay if I come in and sit down? I want to talk to you. Since you bought his house, you’ve definitely had contact with him, right?" Adrian Lancaster spoke earnestly, "I’m just trying to find him, even if it’s just a small clue."
The middle-aged woman looked at him, hesitated for a moment, thought for a few seconds, then nodded and opened the door, "Come in."
The house is a bit old and is the type without an elevator, located on the third floor.
After Adrian Lancaster entered, he asked directly, "Can you tell me what Mr. Reynolds, the previous owner, was like in your impression? Don’t you have the purchase contract? Please think again, do you really have no contact information for him?"
"I bought the house through an agency, didn’t save his contact information, just met him once on the contract signing day. A tall, fat middle-aged man, he was not very talkative but quite easygoing, even paid two years of property fees for us, it was five thousand dollars."
Agency?
Adrian Lancaster seemed to have found another breakthrough, "Which agency? The person who introduced the house to you, do you still have their contact information?"
"Let me look for it." The middle-aged woman turned and walked into the room.
Adrian Lancaster stood patiently in the living room, waiting.
Since none of those 67 samples matched, he would stop at nothing to find Mr. Reynolds!
At this time, Mr. Reynolds is in the dilapidated small study room on the third floor.
Drake found a notebook filled with writings on the bookshelf, its cover was worn out, and the paper was somewhat damp, sometimes sticking two or three pages together.
"Madam, take a look at this, is this what you’re looking for?"
Faye Turner turned her eyes, taking the notebook from his hand, a thick tome, opening the first page, upon which there was a date, 20 years ago...
It’s essays!!
Faye Turner was ecstatic, she held her breath, excitedly placing the book on the table.
She then bent over, flipping through, mainly examining the contents following the accident...
Drake and Tiger were still searching for other clues on the bookshelf nearby, even though they were two big men, they worked meticulously, worthy of being Eliza Vance’s competent assistants.
Faye Turner didn’t mind how long the chair beside her hadn’t been cleaned, she sat down directly and placed her phone on the table. If she discovered anything important, she would photograph it.
In this way, ten minutes passed... She patiently flipped through the pages one by one.
Finally, she came across this entry—
The date was June 28, 2002, weather: rain.
Faye Turner remembered a time point, the accident happened on June 15 of that year.
That means this entry, spanning three pages, was written on the 13th day after the accident.
That means it was within a week of him being dismissed.
During this time, his heart must have been tormented.
Between the lines, it’s not hard to see that Gale Peterson’s mood was not good on this day, much like the oppressive, cold, continuous rain pouring outside.
He wrote in the essay—
President Lancaster is still lying in the hospital, I am very worried about him, yet I can’t show up again, sigh, can only keep up with his condition through the news, which makes me feel very sad.
