Chapter 4

I gripped my hair with both hands, hard.

My mind was a tangled mess.

Could parallel worlds really exist?

Had a Toby Dickerson from another timeline crossed over into this one?

Absurd! Utterly absurd!

But if that wasn't it, who could explain everything in front of me?

No, I couldn't just sit here and wait for the end.

I had to go to the hotel and confront that old man to his face.

I snatched the fruit knife off the coffee table, stuffed it into my pocket, and stormed downstairs, murder in my heart.

I had barely reached the entrance of the complex.

I froze.

The man—the one who claimed to be my father—was squatting beside the security booth with that shabby canvas bag of his.

When he saw me come out, his eyes lit up, and he quickly stood and came toward me.

"Pansy!"

I took a wary step back, my hand pressing against the hilt of the knife in my pocket.

"What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to rest at the hotel?"

He rubbed his hands together a little sheepishly and gave an honest, simple smile.

"I got to thinking—that hotel has to cost a few hundred a night, right? Such a waste."

"You work hard for your money. Your dad can't burn through it like that."

"I thought about it, and I figure you could just find me a cheap little inn nearby to get through the night. I'll leave my luggage at your place for now, and that saves the storage fee too."

Hearing all this, I went completely rigid.

The hand around the knife loosened, little by little.

The way he looked at me was full of tenderness and a careful, eager wish to please.

It was the purest love a father could have for his daughter.

But…

He wasn't my father…

If my father had had even a fraction of his thoughtfulness.

If he had shown a little sympathy for how hard I worked, staying late at the office every night.

If he had left me one hot meal on the day I got laid off.

How could I have stood by and watched him have his heart attack?

How could I have been so heartless as to stuff him into the freezer and keep him frozen for three years!

Looking at this "fake dad" who thought of me in every little thing.

I regretted it.

I truly regretted it.

For the past three years, I had jolted awake from nightmares every single night.

I thought I was afraid of being found out.

The truth was, I was running from the reproach of my own conscience.

My sanity had been driven mad by this man's tenderness.

I didn't want to keep guessing anymore, and I didn't want to keep hiding.

I took out my phone and, right in front of him, called 911.

"Hello, is this 911?"

"I want to turn myself in. I killed someone."

The smile froze on the man's face, and the canvas bag dropped from his hand with a thud.

"Pansy… what nonsense is this?"

He grabbed frantically for my phone.

I shoved him away and shouted into the phone:

"The address is Unit 501, Building 4, Fairview Apartments! Come and arrest me!"

I hung up, and it was as if every ounce of strength had been drained out of me. I sank down onto the edge of the flower bed.

Before long, sirens came screaming in.

Two patrol cars stopped at the entrance of the complex, and several police officers stepped out at a brisk pace.

"Who called it in?"

I raised my hand, my voice frighteningly calm. "I did."

"Who did you kill?" The officer looked me up and down.

"I killed my father. Toby Dickerson."

The words had barely left my mouth.

The man beside me lost his temper and slapped his own thigh.

"Bullshit!"

"Officer, don't listen to her spout nonsense! I'm her father, Toby Dickerson, and I'm standing right here, perfectly fine!"

The officer was stunned, looking at me, then at the man.

Clearly, they had never run into anything this outrageous before.

"You shut up!"

I whipped my head around and stared at the man, my eyes like knives.

"You're a fake! I don't know who sent you, but I have proof!"

I turned to the officers and took a deep breath.

"Officer, I killed my father three years ago."

"To fraudulently collect his pension, I hid his body in the freezer at home."

The officers' expressions changed in an instant.

They exchanged a glance, their hands moving instinctively toward the gear at their belts.

"Lead the way."

I walked ahead, leading the officers upstairs.

I opened the door.

I pointed at the freezer.

"He's in there."

The officers approached warily.

The lead officer took a deep breath and abruptly threw open the freezer lid.

A cloud of white, cold mist rose up.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the cold handcuffs to close around my wrists.

But none of what I'd expected came.

The room was deathly silent.

Confused, I opened my eyes and followed the officers' gaze into the freezer.

The next second.

I felt every drop of blood drain from my body in an instant.

Inside the freezer there was nothing but a few bags of frozen dumplings.

Toby Dickerson's body was gone!