Chapter 3 My Mother's Bag

"They've been standing outside the gate for 40 minutes! What else are we still waiting for?" I growled.

"Routine questioning." He stubbed out his cigarette. "It's not just you. Everyone needs to cooperate."

I stared at him. "Let them go inside. I'll wait here."

He shook his head. "No. Who's going to be held responsible if they leave now? Besides, it'll only take a few minutes. It'll be over once the police have a quick chat with them."

My mother gently tugged on my sleeve from behind. "Sylvia, it's okay. We can wait a little longer. We'll have everything straightened out once the officers get here."

I took a deep breath. Then, I turned around and handed my parents the keys. "Mom, Dad, you two should go upstairs without me. Tower 3, Unit 2201."

My father didn't take the keys from me. "What about you?"

"I'll wait for the police. I'll be right up after I talk to them."

My mother shook her head. "No. How can we leave you here alone?"

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, listen to me. You and Dad should go. It's too cold out here."

She looked like she wanted to say something.

"Go upstairs and put some water on to boil," I said. "I really want something warm when I get up there."

She paused for a moment. "Okay."

My father glanced at me.

"It'll be quick. Don't worry," I said.

He said nothing, merely nodding slightly in response.

My mother gripped the keys, taking a few steps before looking back at me each time.

I waved her on.

She went through the gate. My eyes never left her retreating figure until she disappeared into the elevator lobby.

I turned around.

The security guard was leaning against the window, looking deeply unhappy. "They're gone. What are you going to say when the police get here?"

I didn't look at him. "Whatever I say has nothing to do with you."

He fell silent.

A police cruiser arrived ten minutes later.

Two young officers got out. Their manner was strictly professional.

The security guard went over to them and pointed toward the building. "The two elderly people from earlier are already inside."

One of the officers looked at him. "Were you the one who called to report suspicious people?"

"I was, but the unit owner came and said they were her parents, so I let them in."

The officer turned to me. "Are you the unit owner?"

"I'm the owner of Tower 3, Unit 2201. Sylvia Lind. Those two are my parents. They came from our hometown to spend the holidays with me."

He nodded. "How long have they been inside?"

"They just went up."

"All right. We'll go in and take a look. Don't worry. This will be over in a jiffy."

The security guard spoke up from beside us. "Officer, I was just following the rules…"

The officer ignored him and walked into the building.

We all headed toward Tower 3.

I heard a commotion up ahead just as we crossed the courtyard. Several residents had gathered outside the entrance, surrounding something or someone on the ground.

I froze in my tracks.

My mother's faded canvas bag was strewn apart in the middle of the crowd. It had been dumped open, its contents scattered across the ground.

Dried cranberries, walnuts, a bag of dried mushrooms, two food containers, and several pairs of knitted socks were tossed on the ground like trash.

My mother was crouched on the ground, picking everything up one piece at a time.

My father stood beside her, blocked by the crowd.

A woman in a cashmere coat pointed at the things on the ground. "We searched her bag. There's no knife."

Another person spoke up. "That doesn't mean we can just let them go. What if there really is one? The security guard made it pretty clear that they were dangerous in the group chat."

A surge of anger went through me as I stomped over.

My mother looked up.

The moment she saw me, her first reaction was to smile. "Sylvia, it's okay. Nothing broke."

She was clutching a pair of knitted socks.

There were little red flowers embroidered on the soles, crooked and uneven.

Last year, I'd casually mentioned on the phone that the heated floors at work were so hot they made my feet hurt.

She had remembered.

I crouched down, took the socks from her, and put them back in the bag.

Then, I stood up. "Who did this?" I demanded.

No one dared to breathe a word.

Eventually, the woman in the cashmere coat took a step back. "We were just afraid they might wander off, so we asked them to wait over here."

"I asked, who did this?" I snarled.

A middle-aged man finally said, "I did. There was a message in the group chat saying two suspicious elderly people had entered the complex and might be carrying a knife. As a member of the homeowners' committee, it's my responsibility to keep everyone safe."