Chapter 836 - 7: Brian’s Secret

After finally finding a clue about his daughter, Ronald was so agitated he couldn't sleep the whole night.

He used the four US Dollars he had borrowed to get a room, bought some bread and water, and rested for the night.

Early the next morning, Ronald left the inn and went to the house near the church on the edge of Prescott that the homeless man had mentioned.

It was still dark, and the small town was shrouded in morning mist.

A few elderly people were walking together, heading to the church to pray.

Ronald followed behind them and saw the house from a distance.

In a small town in Arkansas, the design of this house was undoubtedly rather avant-garde and luxurious.

The house stood in the middle of a patch of greenery, three stories in total, with a garage on one side and a tool shed on the other, and a neat white fence surrounding the yard.

Behind the house was a small woods; the trees there looked quite old and had grown especially sturdy.

At the entrance of this property there was a signboard, on which several finely crafted wax figures of celebrities were painted, and beside the wax figures stood two craftsmen with broad, cheerful smiles.

From the images and words on the sign, Ronald learned that this household were wax sculptors, and he couldn't help feeling a surge of disgust—

When he was a child, a classmate had burned his calf with a lit candle. The distinctive smell of hot wax had burned itself into his memory; even though decades had passed since that injury, he still hated any waxy smell. When the power went out at home, he wouldn't even allow his wife and child to light candles.

Ronald had once worked at a bank in New York, and at that time there was a famous wax figure exhibition. Even though his colleagues urged him enthusiastically to go, he refused every time, which showed just how much he loathed wax.

Seeing that his daughter's disappearance was actually connected to wax figures, Ronald instinctively blamed everything on bad luck.

He originally intended to knock on the door directly and ask the owner, but when he looked around from outside, he found that perhaps because he had gotten up too early, this household had not yet opened their door. Even the curtains on the first floor were drawn, and the front door was tightly shut.

Out of courtesy, Ronald decided to wait until they were up before paying a visit.

So he took out his bread, squatted outside the fence, and ate his breakfast while continuing to wait.

...

The morning mist spread everywhere, and the gaps in the white fence blurred the boundary of the yard.

Sparse pedestrians moved back and forth between the church and the street.

Before long, someone rang the bell in the bell tower, and with the clear tolling of the bell, the small town began to radiate a vitality and energy of its own.

Ronald quickly finished his bread and continued to observe the house through the gaps in the fence.

He was burning with anxiety, hoping the homeowner would get up early, but he never saw the curtains drawn open.

"I can't keep waiting like this."

Ronald told himself.

He wiped his hands on the bread wrapper, then prepared to stand up and knock on the door himself. Even if it was a bit presumptuous, he was doing it to find his child; surely they would understand.

He had been squatting so long his legs were numb. Supporting himself on his knees, he had barely started to rise when he suddenly saw a teenager coming out from the side of the house.

The boy wasn't short, about eighteen or nineteen years old, carrying a tray of food in his hands. After leaving the house, he walked straight toward the tool shed next to it, glancing around as he walked.

However, because Ronald was squatting outside the fence and the morning mist hadn't yet lifted, the boy's quick scan didn't reveal anything unusual, and he continued on his way.

...

Ronald had intended to go up and question him while he was outside, but after noticing that the boy's behavior was a bit strange, he abandoned that idea—

"Why is he carrying a tray?

Who is he bringing all that food to?"

The question rose in Ronald's mind.

If the homeless man hadn't lied and his daughter had indeed appeared near this house yesterday morning, then he had reason to believe that this boy was bringing food to his daughter.

"They've taken my daughter and locked her up!"

A bold guess suddenly flashed through his mind.

The more he thought about it, the more reasonable this guess seemed; otherwise, nothing made sense.

After all, when a normal person finds a child alone without their parents, their first reaction should be to ask where the parents are or take the child to the police. Locking the child up must mean they have ulterior motives.

Realizing that his daughter might have been imprisoned by this household, Ronald immediately abandoned any thought of going up to the door to ask questions.

He was a stranger in Prescott; if a dispute broke out over this, he would definitely not come out ahead. It would be better to call the police and bring them here to search directly.

Watching the boy set the tray down on the grass, take out a key to open the tool shed door, and then step inside, Ronald felt slightly relieved.

The fact that she was being fed meant his daughter was not in immediate mortal danger; the most important thing now was to get her out.

He raised his wrist, intending to check the time and see if the police station was open, only to realize that at some point his watch had vanished as well.

So he could only look up at the sky and estimate that he'd have to wait at least another two hours, which inevitably made him more anxious.

"Maybe I should wait until he leaves, then go and take a look in the tool shed myself…"

A thought surfaced in Ronald's mind.

Compared to calling the police immediately, checking the tool shed first was undoubtedly the better option.

If the person they were bringing food to wasn't his daughter, he could avoid making a scene for nothing.

If it was his daughter they were feeding, then once he knew the situation for sure, he could choose to pry the lock open and rescue her in advance, or adapt to circumstances and find another way to handle it.

After weighing it over, Ronald decided that taking a look in advance was the safer move. He pressed himself close to the fence, circled around to the other side of the yard closer to the tool shed, and waited for the boy with the food to leave.