"Peter? Why are you back alone? Where's Kate?" the agent asked, opening the door to the room, looking somewhat puzzled.
"She wanted to stroll around the town. I just came over to find you," Peter said, standing outside the door, "How's your brother doing?"
"Not very well, he's been having a fever all along."
"Can I go in and see him?"
"He doesn't like noise very much," the agent said, "You're just letting Kate be alone like that? She's pregnant, you know, and just went through a car accident. You should take good care of her."
"She's not pregnant," Peter shook his head and said, "That was just an excuse for us to come back to this town. Because if we didn't say she was pregnant, her aunt wouldn't have let us come over."
Although the agent had known this for a long time, he still acted quite surprised and said, "There are plenty of excuses to come back, why use that one? Her aunt isn't that young anymore. This could be very disappointing for her, it's not very nice, is it?"
"It's not entirely about this," Peter sighed and said, "Kate has been dwelling in the sorrow of losing her daughter, and this might make her feel a bit better."
"Of course not. This is just repeatedly bringing up her sad memories," the agent sighed and said, "Let's not talk about this anymore. What did you come to find me for?"
"Nothing particularly special. I just heard you're a British person and have traveled the world, quite knowledgeable, so I wanted to have a chat with you."
The agent came out from the room and closed the door, then said, "Let's talk in the living room."
They went together to the living room and sat down. As Peter sat down, he said, "Aunt Cain really doesn't like me. I don't want to disturb her too much. Shall we go out for a walk instead?"
"That works too," the agent stood up again and said, "Actually, I'm quite curious about you too. Aunt Cain said you used to study at the Chicago Police Academy. That's quite a good school. I just don't understand why you'd choose to be a police officer in such a remote little place."
"I came back with Kate," as they walked out the door, Peter said, "She has an obsession with this small town, seems like she believes her daughter is here. So I went along and got assigned here."
"You're a good man," the agent said, "willing to sacrifice your future for your wife's whims."
Peter didn't continue this topic and instead said, "Have you been to the waterfall there? I've heard it's a famous spot."
"I went with Linda," the agent said, "Honestly, there's not much to see. That waterfall isn't actually that big, and below it is just a small lake. To be honest, I can't quite understand how this town could be rated as a tourist spot. It's so far away from those places I've visited before. Don't you think so?"
"I haven't been to many tourist spots."
"No way," the agent looked at him and said, "There are quite a few scenic places in New York. Have you been to Long Island? I heard New Yorkers love to vacation there. I'm planning to check it out after leaving here."
"I haven't been there," Peter said, "It should be a place for the wealthy. My parents weren't rich. My uncle was a skilled worker, earning quite a bit. But he didn't like wasting money, probably hasn't been there either."
"I see. I've been to quite a few places in England. My favorite is the weather in the Scottish Highlands, always so clear..."
As they talked, they arrived at the center of the small town. It was quiet, without a sound. The agent looked around and said, "What a shame."
"Shame about what?"
"The houses in this town are built quite nicely, which means the townspeople must still like their hometown. It's a pity that for some reason, they've all left."
"No one would dislike their hometown, right? Maybe they didn't want to leave but had no choice," Peter shook his head and said, "Have you been to the church?"
"Not yet. Should we check it out together?"
"Sure," Peter said, "I've been there once before. Let me lead the way."
The two of them walked toward the church and soon arrived at its entrance. The agent looked up at the cross, and Peter asked him, "Do you believe in religion?"
The agent shook his head. Although he was familiar with various religions and chatting with believers was second nature to him, he wasn't religious.
"That's good," Peter said, "My aunt was a believer. She was a good person, raised me after my parents passed away."
"They must have loved you very much," the agent said.
"What about you? Do you and your brother have any other relatives?"
"We sort of have," the agent said as they walked into the church, "We don't meet much. The last time we met, it was the same as always."
"What do you think of this small town?" Sitting in the front row at the podium, Peter spread his hands and asked.
"It's not bad. You can see it used to be a nice little town. Though it's declining now, it's still very quiet. Living here shouldn't be troublesome."
"I think so too. Although I was a bit displeased with Kate's suggestion initially, once I came here, I thought it might be nice to find a secluded place to settle. But unfortunately, duty calls, and I have to return to the city."
"Indeed, you are a police officer. This small town doesn't even have a police station, staying here has no meaning."
"Honestly, do you really think there's anything supernatural here?" Peter said with a frown, "Kate keeps saying it's this town that swallowed her daughter, she said she even dreamed of it."
"That's postpartum depression causing hallucinations. You shouldn't come to me, you should really talk to her, and then get her a professional psychiatrist. After all, she is your wife."
"Of course I want to, but she refuses treatment. Her words have left me a bit anxious too."
"You are indeed a bit anxious, otherwise you wouldn't have flipped the car over." The agent shook his head and said, "It's a good thing Kate wasn't really pregnant, otherwise that would have been a major problem."
"I saw the warehouse in the center of the town catch fire. Was that your doing?"
"Probably." The agent took a deep breath and said, "It could also be the weather being too dry, and it caught fire on its own. But anyway, it's an old abandoned warehouse, it doesn't matter if it burns down."
"This town doesn't have a fire department, it would be troublesome if a fire broke out," Peter said, "Fortunately, it didn't."
Then the two fell silent, seemingly out of topics to discuss. After sitting for a few minutes, the agent finally showed a hint of impatience. He sighed, stood up, and said, "Is there anything else you want to say?"
Peter seemed confused by his sudden change in attitude, he said, "I told you, I just came to chat."
"Is this crappy script dialogue ever going to end? Can't we just get straight to the action?" The agent said something cryptic, then suddenly pulled out a gun from his waist, pointed it at Peter and said, "You have three seconds to say everything you want to say. Quick!"
Peter was shocked, he hurriedly raised his hands and said, "What's wrong with you?!"
Bang!
A bullet hit Peter's chest. The impact made him stagger back a step, looking incredulously at his bleeding chest. The agent remained calm and said, "Looks like you have nothing left to say."
"Ahhhhh!!!!"
Peter let out a scream, his face suddenly twisted in agony. He said, "Are you mad?! Why did you attack me?!"
"I've never told anyone my brother was injured, yet you asked about his situation right away; that's very unusual."
"I never said he was injured, I just asked how he was doing! Isn't that just basic courtesy?!"
The agent looked at him like he was a fool: "I know my gun skills. You took a bullet and can still stand here, questioning me full of vigor, don't you find something wrong?"
Peter immediately realized it was a trap. The questions about his brother were just a ploy to buy time and observe his reaction.
"You fell for it," the agent said, "You've shown your hand so easily; you're not doing a very good job as a ghost."
It indeed was a test. Based on two principles. First, ghosts are not afraid of bullets, after all, they have no physical form, even if they control someone else's body, getting hurt shouldn't harm them. Otherwise, that ghost would be too weak and not to be worried about.
Not fearing bullets means it's impossible to show genuine injury. Which means once shot, he can only act it out, but can't show genuine pain.
Secondly, this ghost shouldn't have taken a bullet when it was alive. There's a peculiar situation in America, that the crime rate is lower in small towns, even more so remote ones because they are close-knit communities where everyone is somewhat related. Any disputes are solved with words or fists, unlike the gun battles in big cities.
Moreover, gun control is generally stricter in small towns than in big cities. The local police and militia control all firearm sources. If others had easier access, it would threaten their safety, and in such closed places, it's relatively easier to cut off certain sources.
In summary, people in small towns have a much lower probability of taking a bullet than city dwellers, especially native locals, who almost never die from gunshot wounds.
This means the ghost doesn't know how being shot feels.
Of course, being injured usually follows a few reactions, like screaming and falling back. But the agent suddenly firing without reason is incomprehensible and would of course infuriate the evil spirit.
Because in the spirit's mind, this guy just starts shooting without a word, isn't that just insane? Naturally, it would wonder what exactly was meant, and where its mistake was exposed.
As soon as it questioned, the agent used the hunting thing as an excuse. Actually, the evil spirit didn't really expose itself, it just asked "How's your brother doing?" In English, that doesn't equate to asking about injuries, it's like meeting someone and asking "How are you?", merely a polite greeting.
The agent fabricated and distorted its words. Naturally, the evil spirit grew angry. Doesn't accusing a ghost without reason amount to framing?
Thus, it forgot the gun wound act and directly started explaining. Saying something takes several seconds, and standing there these seconds, even a fool could notice something was wrong.
But ultimately, the spirit still came back to the question: Since it never exposed itself from beginning to end, why did this madman shoot?!