She went into the small kitchen and opened the small refrigerator, which contained three or four pieces of red sausage, a quart of milk, two cartons of fragrant yogurt, a pint of juice and three bottles of Pepsi. She took out a bottle of Pepsi, uncapped it and set it on the counter. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, expecting to see Bill on the porch. What are you doing? He would ask. What kind of mixed drinks do you make there? The porch was empty. She could hear his calm, understanding voice at the other end of the corridor. She's starting to like the sound. She used her fingernails to pick the cork cap from the mouth of the small ceramic bottle, lifted the ceramic bottle and shook it from side to side under her nose, as if she were smelling perfume, but she knew it was bitter and metallic. But strangely fascinating. The bottle contained a few drops of water from the stream behind the Bull Temple. Ducasse: Just give him a drop. I'll give it to you when I get back. Yes, just one drop. Too much will bring danger. But one drop might be enough. All the questions and all the memories — the moonlight, Norman's screams of pain and terror, the woman who wouldn't let him see her face — it would all be gone. Her fears and fears that the memories would drive him insane would disappear. Their budding relationship is also likely to melt. It can also turn into a paradoxical fear that the human mind is much stronger and more adaptable than people think, and if fourteen years with Norman had taught her nothing, would this be a chance? What if things go the other way? Which is more dangerous: remembering or forgetting? Girl, be careful. This is dangerous! Rosie's eyes moved from the tiny ceramic bottle to the sewer, and then back to the bottle. Rose Meadow: a good beast. If you protect him, he will protect you. Rossi believes that the conclusion may be rash and wrong,push back racking system, but the idea is not bad. Slowly, carefully, she placed the small ceramic bottle on the neck of the Pepsi and slowly tilted it down, allowing a drop of liquid to flow from one bottle to the other. Knock. Now dump the rest down the drain, quickly. She began to pour, and suddenly remembered that Ducasse had said something else: "I should have given you only one drop, but maybe he'll need another drop later.". Yes, what should I do? She asked herself as she pushed the tiny cork back into the mouth of the bottle and placed her in the very inconvenient watch pocket. What am I supposed to do? Will I need a drop or two in the future in order not to change my stool? She doesn't think she needs it. Besides. "Those who are not good at learning from history are doomed to repeat the old mistakes of the past." She murmured to herself. She did not know who had said this, but she knew that it was too reasonable to be taken seriously. She hurried back to the phone and picked up the mixed drink with one hand. She dialed 911 again. It was the same operator's voice with the same opening line: "Ma'am, please be advised that this call is being recorded." "I'm still Rosie McClendon, shuttle rack system ,cantilever racking system," she said. "We've just been interrupted." There was a deliberate pause, then a nervous laugh. "Oh, my God, it's not exactly like that.". I was so excited that I accidentally pulled the plug off the wall. There was chaos here just now. Yes, madam. At the request of Ms. Rosie McClendon, an ambulance has been dispatched to 897 Ivy Street. There was a report of a shooting from the same address. Ma'am, is your report about a gunshot wound? "That's right." "Do you want me to contact the police?" I want to talk to Captain Hale. He's a detective, so I guess I should call the detective department, but maybe you have another name here. There was a pause, and then the 911 operator started talking again, and this time his voice didn't sound like a machine. Yes, ma'am, we have a detective office here, which is the detective office you are looking for. I'll put you through. Thank you. Do you need my phone number? Maybe you've taken notes? This time she was undoubtedly shocked. "I already have your number, ma'am." "I think so, too." "Just a moment, please. I'll put you through." As she waited, she picked up the bottle of Pepsi and waved it under her nose a few times, smelling it like a small ceramic bottle. She thought she could smell the faint bitterness. But maybe that's just her imagination. It doesn't matter whether he drinks or not, she thought. How about a drink? What if you don't drink? Before she could think about it, someone had answered the phone. Detective. Officer Williams. She gave him Hale's name and began to wait. The grunting and groaning went on in the corridor outside her room. The siren of the ambulance is getting closer. 4 "Hello, this is Hale!" A loud shout from the receiver startled her. It was nothing like the preoccupied man she had seen before. Is that you, Ms. McClendon? "Yes-" "How are you?" He was still shouting loudly. He reminded her of the policemen who passed through her living room, their shoes off, and the smell of smelly feet could be smelled all over the room. She could not wait to hear from him, eager to tell him what had happened; but he was not what she had guessed, and now he could only dance around her and bark like a dog. Man, she thought, rolling her eyes helplessly. Yes "Yes, I'm fine," she said slowly, like a supervisor at an amusement park trying to calm down crazy kids doing somersaults in an open-air stadium. Bill? No, Mr. Steiner is fine,Teardrop Pallet Racking, too. We're all fine. "Was the man who shot your husband?" His words sounded so rude that they almost shocked her. Is that Daniels? "Yes.". But he's dead. She hesitated, then added, "I don't know where he is." I guess it was hot and the air conditioning didn't work. jracking.com