Chapter 117: I Have a Bold Idea
"What's going on?"
Morgan adjusted his sunglasses and looked at Chuck with a half-smile. "A new method of investigating a case?"
"No."
Chuck shook his head.
"Shh!"
Cheryl, lying on the ground, motioned for silence. "I'm not crazy. I'm lying here for a reason."
After waiting a few seconds, she opened her eyes and stood up, looking around, and began to express her thoughts. "Trixie was dragged out of the car and fell here. Trixie is a fighter. She wouldn't give up, even with a gun to her head."
"She's right."
Elle held the file and nodded. "There are fingernail scratches on the car seat."
"Do you think your sister is still alive?"
Morgan glanced at Chuck and asked Cheryl.
"I know she's alive!"
Cheryl said with certainty.
"Is it that twin telepathy thing?"
Morgan said. "Cheryl, you're a physics major, right?"
"If you're asking why a scientist would believe in such pseudoscience, I don't know. I just know what I feel,"
Cheryl said. "And it's not the kind of telepathy you're thinking of. I can't feel her pain. If you stick her with a needle, I won't feel it or cry out. But if something's bothering her or something's seriously wrong, I can sense it."
At this point, she looked at Chuck. "My instincts tell me that Trixie is still alive."
"Good,"
Chuck nodded.
"Do you actually believe in this feeling?"
Morgan looked at Chuck in surprise.
"What's your role in the BAU?"
Chuck asked.
"..."
Morgan paused.
The BAU was the FBI's elite unit. Working there, in the spotlight, could lead to greater achievements and fast-track promotions. Countless FBI agents applied to join, but only a select few were chosen.
Therefore, every BAU member was carefully selected, each with their own specialized skills.
Besides classic tactical operations like breaching and explosives, and, importantly, diversity representation, his primary skill was psychological profiling—getting into the criminal's mindset, immersing himself in the crime scene and finding clues.
This ability, in many ways, wasn't unlike Cheryl's current telepathic connection with her twin; both relied on profoundly intuitive experiences.
Criticizing Cheryl now was like the pot calling the kettle black.
"See, it's not a new method,"
Chuck nodded to Morgan. "Strictly speaking, Cheryl's understanding of her twin sister is much more empirical than your understanding of unknown criminals."
"..."
Morgan's face darkened at Chuck's words—not only defeating his argument but also cutting deep.
He secretly regretted being so careless!
"Why is that?"
Elle spoke up for her colleague. "While Morgan relies on psychological immersion, it's based on training and experience."
"Because Cheryl and Trixie aren't ordinary twins."
Chuck looked at them. "They're mirror twins. The fertilized egg split between days 9 and 12, creating reversed asymmetry. Their DNA overlaps at the final sequences, and some of Trixie's organs that should be on the left are on the right. It's called situs inversus. They're a truly remarkable pair of twins. If telepathy exists anywhere, it would be more likely with twins like them."
"Okay."
Elle paused, looking at Chuck curiously. "So you actually believe in it?"
"I think it would make an interesting research topic."
Chuck shook his head. "One of my favorite filmmakers made a movie featuring mirror-image twins. He actually tried to test their telepathy on set."
"What were the results?"
Elle asked curiously.
"It was a comedy film."
Chuck looked at her. "It was made for entertainment, not as a legitimate scientific experiment. The results are meaningless."
"..."
Elle's mouth twitched. "If it's meaningless, why bring it up?"
Chuck ignored her. The filmmaker's on-set experiment, a publicity stunt for laughs, certainly had no scientific relevance, but the underlying concept, as always, raised fascinating questions worth pondering.
"Cheryl, we should head back,"
Chuck called.
"Okay!"
Cheryl nodded immediately.
Morgan and Elle, however, had to stay behind, doing what Cheryl had just been doing.
"Why do you always argue with him?"
After Chuck left, Elle couldn't help but laugh. "You're always the one who ends up frustrated."
"It's competitive instinct,"
Morgan shrugged. "I can't help myself."
The last time they worked the Red John case, Chuck and his team flew straight to California, leaving him and Elle behind. Before they could find any substantial clues, the case was already solved.
This wasn't a pleasant feeling for him, who was determined to make his mark in the BAU.
The BAU had six members—five white agents, and he was the only Black member. His specialty was criminal profiling, and he'd been subjected to more than one snide comment about getting in because of affirmative action, with the inevitable undertones of racial prejudice.
He felt more pressure than anyone to prove himself!
So while everyone else in the team respected, approved of, or admired Chuck, he alone couldn't help but challenge him.
This was both the competitive nature of an alpha personality and the inevitable result of all that pressure.
He began his work, moving around the scene and observing.
"What's he doing?"
a local police officer asked, puzzled.
"Profiling,"
Elle explained. "Getting into the kidnapper's mindset to gather useful information."
"Real scientific,"
the officer couldn't help but smirk.
"..."
Elle's face darkened.
Apparently Chuck wasn't the only one who saw the irony.
"Alright,"
Morgan ignored the mockery, standing with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and assumed the kidnapper's perspective. "She and her boyfriend are practically joined at the hip. To get to her, I need to eliminate her boyfriend. He's collateral damage. But shooting him execution-style shows this is personal. Killing the boyfriend, removing this obstacle, is just the beginning..."
At this point, he opened his eyes, turned around, and looked at Elle. A flash of insight crossed his face, as if he'd seen through to the truth. He slowly said, "This is about her."
Elle and the other officers stared at him, waiting for him to continue.
"Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Morgan snapped out of the kidnapper's mindset and looked at the others in confusion.
"..."
Elle was speechless, wanting to say something but holding back.
The other officers weren't so diplomatic, snickering, "That's it? Listen to yourself. Who doesn't know the kidnapper killed the boyfriend to get to the girl? You're not even as helpful as that college girl, who at least sensed her sister was still alive."
"..."
Morgan's face flushed, but fortunately, his complexion concealed it completely. He ignored the mocking officers, told Elle they were leaving, and walked away.
Chuck, unaware of this drama, drove Cheryl back to her house.
They'd gone straight to the crime scene and hadn't returned home yet.
"Dad!"
Cheryl burst into tears upon arriving home, throwing herself at a bearded middle-aged man.
"Cheryl."
Cheryl's father embraced his daughter, tears streaming down his face.
"Chuck, glad you're here,"
Reid greeted Chuck with a smile.
"Yeah,"
Chuck nodded in response.
"Dr. Wolfe, I heard you visited the crime scene. Did you discover anything?"
asked Gideon, the BAU's unit chief.
"Based on the evidence at the scene, Cheryl's sister, Trixie, and her boyfriend were driving home when they were stopped by a vehicle blocking the road. Trixie's boyfriend, who was driving, was shot in front of her, and Trixie was abducted while resisting."
Chuck said, "This was clearly a premeditated crime. Such strong resistance didn't provoke the perpetrators to kill her. Obviously they need Trixie alive for something. So I believe Cheryl's instinct is correct. Trixie is still alive."
"What do they want with her?"
a voice called out.
Chuck looked over and saw an attractive young woman standing next to Cheryl's father, dressed provocatively in a low-cut top that revealed her cleavage, with a seductive figure and beautiful face.
"We don't know yet,"
Chuck shook his head. "No ransom demand has been made. They could be after money, or this could be sexually motivated, or it's a cover for their real target being Mr. Davenport."
"This is all my fault!"
Cheryl's father said bitterly.
"No!"
Cheryl cried, "Dad, this isn't your fault! You're a hero fighting criminals, and Trixie and I are so proud of you."
Her father was a prominent federal prosecutor in Manhattan. His integrity and effectiveness had made him a target for many dangerous individuals. Over the past decade, he had received countless death threats and been placed in the U.S. Marshals Witness Protection Program three times, living under assumed identities.
It wasn't surprising that he was being targeted.
So many people wanted him eliminated.
"What's your take on this?"
Chuck looked at the attractive young woman.
"What?"
The young woman was taken aback.
"Cheryl thinks Mr. Davenport is doing important work, and they're proud to be his daughters,"
Chuck said. "As Mr. Davenport's wife and Cheryl's stepmother, how do you view your husband's career?"
"It's admirable work,"
the attractive young woman said, seeing everyone looking at her. Then, noticing her stepdaughter Cheryl's suspicious gaze, she added bluntly, "It's just too dangerous! Being saved by a hero is a blessing, but being the hero's family is a curse."
"You used to think marrying a rising prosecutor and being his wife was so prestigious, but now you're finding it hard to live under constant security threats?"
Cheryl said coldly, "No one forced you to marry my father! You pursued him!"
"Yes, I made that choice,"
the attractive young woman scoffed. "But you didn't have a choice. Born into a family like this, what's the result of your efforts to escape it?"
"You—!"
Cheryl was furious.
"Cheryl,"
Mr. Davenport quickly moved to comfort both his wife and daughter.
Chuck, Gideon, and the others observed this scene silently. It was clear that Davenport was well aware of the conflict between his wife and daughter, and he'd become skilled at managing their disputes.
(End of Chapter)
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