After learning the secret hidden by the mice, Jobtran felt that this trip to Iceland was not simple.
"Nyarlathotep, is this also one of the truths you want me to know?"
As Joe Butran walked, he was guessing in his mind.
The mouse followed Jobtran, feeling somewhat uneasy.
Although Jobtran believed what he said, the mouse was still worried that Jobtran would think he was a coward.
Jobtran noticed the mouse's slightly thoughtful expression from the corner of his eye, and he hooked his right hand around the mouse's neck.
"If you encounter any problems during this journey, I will help you handle it, don't worry."
Jobtran said this deliberately so that he could reassure the still uneasy mouse.
"You are amazing, Mouse, for being able to face these unspeakable horrors and still maintain your sanity."
Joe Butran praised.
Although Jobtran tried to comfort the mouse, he himself was still unsure.
What exactly is a hound? What is a starfish
The answers to these mysteries can probably only be found within the Investigation Bureau.
The two of them walked slowly to the front of the police station. The fat figure of the police chief was pacing back and forth in front of the door, seeming to be very anxious.
"Oh, sir, you are finally here."
When the chief of police saw Joe Butran, he stepped forward to greet him as if he had been granted amnesty.
He looked very humble with his shy smile and bent waist, probably because the identification certificate given by the Investigation Bureau was of too high a level.
"Sir, how can I help you?"
The police chief narrowed his eyes and asked flatteringly.
“Two things.
First, I need files on missing children from all over Iceland;
Second, take me to the Investigation Bureau."
Jobtran stated the purpose of his trip straight away.
"Um, sir, leading the way is not a problem, but the dossier..."
The fat director was obviously not confident when he said this, and the fear in his eyes revealed the problem clearly.
"If you have something to say, just say it."
Joe Butran said somewhat unhappily.
“To be honest, sir, this is a rebuilt police station. Four years ago, a fire burned down our original police station.
And those files...
Sir, if you don’t believe it, you can ask the mouse!
He is a local and can testify for us.”
The fat director pointed at the mouse in panic.
Jobtran turned to look at the mouse, who nodded silently.
"In that case, how many files do you have left?"
"They are all in our archives, but..."
Joe Butron was somewhat dissatisfied with the way the fat director spoke, as he was dragging his feet.
"But what?"
"Nothing, sir. Please follow me."
The fat director's hesitant look made Joe Bruin realize that there might be other hidden stories behind the missing children case.
The police station's archives room is located on the other side of the cell. Compared to the dark cell, there is a window for ventilation in the archives room.
The setting sun can shine in through the window, making the whole environment less gloomy.
However, the current situation that makes people's scalps tingle makes Jobtran particularly embarrassed. It is obvious that the files here have not been sorted out by people who specialize in document processing. They are piled here and there.
“All our cases from the past four years are here.
The specialist who was originally responsible for handling the documents unfortunately died in the fire, and most of the funds allocated from below were used to pay for reconstruction and funeral expenses for their families.
That’s all we rough folks can do.”
"It seems that the fat director's hesitation earlier was due to the chaos here?"
Joe Butran guessed in his heart.
Only vaguely did the fire at the former police station catch Jobtran's attention.
"Before we look through the files, let's talk about the fire."
Jobtran unceremoniously pulled out a chair beside him and sat down.
“Oh, that’s a tragedy.
Poor Document Specialist Fitch not only missed the Big Fish Festival, but also missed the wonderful carnival.
Although he has a strange temper, he is the smartest guy here.
The firefighters found a cigarette butt at the scene. Perhaps Fitch accidentally ignited the document while working late at night?"
The fat director said sadly.
"Big Fish Festival?"
“The first week of every August is the Big Fish Festival.
People would gather in seaside villages to share their catch.
Free buffet, free wine, free music. Although it is not an officially recognized festival, it is a carnival for us ordinary people. "
The mouse explained beside him.
“Did anything special happen that year?”
Jobtran touched his chin and asked thoughtfully.
"As far as I can remember, no."
The fat director shook his head.
"No, there is."
The mouse said hesitantly.
"Do you remember the first time the fishermen caught a whale near the harbor?"
The mouse turned and said to the fat director who was deep in thought.
"Oh, yes.
A very strange-looking narwhal, whose cry I still remember.”
The fat director clapped his hands as if he suddenly understood something.
"Yes, but that doesn't look like a narwhal at all..."
The mouse recalled the details of what happened and couldn't help trembling.
"I've never seen anything so... ugly, and yet people are not afraid of death and eat its meat."
The fat director recalled the scene where the drunk people cut the whale into small pieces and grilled it.
"Not only that, but those who ate the meat also started a riot, do you remember?"
The mouse reminded kindly.
“Yes, I remember now.
They were like crazy, everyone was extremely manic and fighting with each other. We had to temporarily mobilize police officers to calm the situation.
We were really busy at the time.”
The fat director thought with lingering fear.
"Have you ever thought that the fire in the police station was caused by this riot?"
Joe Butron glanced at the fat director and thought that this guy seemed to be just a good-for-nothing with average ability.
"What happened to the narwhal?"
“People from above came and took away all the bodies.
The same is true of crazy people.”
“Did the Bureau of Investigation intervene
It seems that the things behind the disappearances are really complicated.”
Jobtran thought to himself.
"You mentioned Fitch's family earlier, where are they now?"
When Jobtran thought of the funeral expenses for family members, he immediately thought of the possibility that Fitch, the document specialist, might have been silenced because he was close to the truth.
"It's impossible for such a smart guy not to leave clues."
Joe Butran thought so.
“Director, give Mouse the address of Fitch’s family.
Organizer, please sort out the files here. I'll give you two hours.
Mouse, take me to meet Fitch's family.
Time is running out, hurry up."
Jobtran stood up and walked out of the archive room in a hurry.
After Mouse obtained the address of Fitch's family, he walked ahead to lead the way.
We walked along the cobblestone road of the town and slowly arrived at the sparsely populated suburbs.
Two young children were chasing each other in the field with laughter. A lady in her twenties, dressed in extremely simple and monotonous clothes, stood in the field, collecting petals of pansy flowers of the season.
"Run slower, don't fall."
"I know! Mom, mortal."
This was the natural material the family used to dye cloth, and after Fitch's death, the burden of supporting the family fell on his young wife.
She has to pay for her two children's schooling while maintaining a basic standard of living.
Fortunately, colleagues at the police station would send some comfort items from time to time, otherwise her family would have hardly been able to survive.
"Hello, may I ask, are the Fitch family in front of here?"
the mouse asked the woman in the field.
She raised her head, but her young face already had some wrinkles from carrying the burden of life.
"I am Fitch's wife. What can I do for you two?"
She asked politely as she placed the pansies she had just picked into a straw basket.
"Hello, I am a new colleague in the police station. I will replace Fitch's original job. Now I come to visit the widow of the martyr."
Joe Boutrang made up lies with ease and showed her the police badge he had taken from the police station.
"Ah, has Fitch finally found a suitable successor to his position?"
The young woman said with some surprise.
"Yes, I wonder if Mr. Fitch left anything for me? Any written records, diaries or essays?"
Jobtran asked, getting straight to the point.
The young woman showed a surprised expression on her face and covered her mouth with her hands and said,
"How do you know Fitch left something behind?"
"I guess."
Joe Butran responded with a smile.
"Please follow me, both of you."
The young woman slowly walked out from the flower field and bowed to the two men.
"At the time, Fitch told me that the notebook could only be handed over if a successor came.
I still remember that he angrily slammed the table and said: It would be better to throw it into the sea than to hand it over to those big and strong guys. "
The young woman recalled some fragments and couldn't help but stretch out her hand, covering her face and speaking.
After hearing this, Joe Butron frowned.
“There is indeed a problem.
How can a person foresee that he might die unless... "
The two men followed the young woman silently without saying a word and walked to the dilapidated house.
"The hut is a bit shabby, please don't mind."
The young woman said with an apologetic smile.
The furnishings in the cabin all show signs of use, and extremely simple living furnishings constitute the daily life of a family of three.
There are no fancy decorations, only practical furniture and some small toys for children.
"No, no, no, why would we mind these things
It would be rude of us to come empty-handed."
Joe Butran waved his hands and lowered his head embarrassedly.
"Here are some small gifts from the two of us. Please accept them."
Jobtran took out a few large-denomination Icelandic krona from his pocket and handed them to the young woman.
"That's thoughtful. We can still make a living. Gentlemen, please put it away. Please take a seat."
Although the young woman lives a poor life, she seems to have a sense of pride.
Seeing this, Jobtran had no choice but to take back the money in disappointment and sat on one side of the square table with the mouse.
"Don't know what to call you?"
In order to change the subject, Joe Butran asked the young woman.
"Portman, you two, I don't have any black tea or coffee here, only scented tea. Do you mind?"
asked Feige’s widow, Portman.
"No, no."
Mouse and Jobtran said quickly.
"Before I give you the things, I need you to answer a question."
Portman said mysteriously while boiling water.
The mouse panicked after hearing that, and looked helplessly at Job Brown, who patted the mouse's thigh gently to reassure him.
"Speaking."
Jobtran replied calmly.
"What is the most troubling thing in Fitch's life?"
Portman sat opposite Jobtran with a smile on his face, looking straight into his eyes.
Jobtrand was not afraid at all and answered firmly:
"Missing Child Case."
"Congratulations, but you're only half right."
Portman said with regret.
"And your son, your eldest son."
Joe Butran added.
The young woman Portman's face changed and she bit her lip.
"How do you know that?"
“The message Fitch left for me.
Your family has five pairs of knives and forks, but there are only four of us.
This doesn't make sense. For Fitch to focus on investigating missing children and even risk his life to investigate, it can only be reasonable if his own son is also missing, right?"
Joe Butran boldly stated his speculation.
"Yes, you are right."
Portman replied sadly.
"But I want to know, how did Fitch know he might be killed?"
Jobtran combined the clues from Portman's previous words and found a logical doubt.
"I... I don't know, I tried to stop him, but he told me there was no going back on this.
I still remember his attitude at that time, as if he was preparing to make arrangements for his final affairs, an attitude of living towards death.
I still remember that at night, he sat alone by the window, muttering to himself: This is impossible, while writing in his diary.
Portman recalls Feige, a gentle, bearded man in a thin linen blouse, recording something she didn't understand by moonlight.
"And the diary?"
"Under the board, please wait."
After Portman finished speaking, he squatted down, pried open the wooden board under the bed, and took out a diary wrapped in cloth.
She untied the cloth covered with dust and dirt, took out the diary inside, and held it in her hand.
"Are you sure you want to watch it? If you watch it, you might get into big trouble."
“I have enough troubles, and I don’t mind one more.
Besides, this is the purpose of my trip.”
Jobtran smiled bitterly, took the diary from Portman and opened the first page.
"Successor, if you were to read this diary, I would be dead.
Next, you will see some things that will subvert your worldview. If you are not mentally prepared enough, please burn this diary.
—Fitch Lowry. "