Parallel Predicaments

4

Sheldon's explanation made sense to me. After all, I've been part of the team for a while. His arguments were logical and well-founded. Perhaps, as he suggested, this was a trick by the murderer to mislead me. But who could the murderer be?

Sheldon noticed my concern and stood up, saying, "Nami, let's leave it to the police. It's getting late; I'll drive you home."

Back home by 2 a.m., I grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled on the couch under the bright moonlight, not bothering with the lights, just wanting a moment of quiet. I picked up a photo frame from the side cabinet, a picture of me and Coco, barely visible in the dim light. But in my mind, it was clear. It was taken last winter at a ski resort; Coco was wearing a red helmet and a white ski suit. She had said we should come back next year, but now, that chance was gone forever.

I set the frame down and leaned back, closing my eyes. That's when my phone rang, piercing the silence of the night. I got up and saw the screen; it was that call again, no caller ID.

"Coco's gone; she really died in 2024. If you hadn't chased that man, maybe Coco wouldn't have been killed!" The moment I answered, she started berating me.

I hit record and asked, "How do you know Coco is dead? The police haven't released any information."

"I'm you from the future; of course, I know. Everything you do, I remember. The future has changed, Coco's gone, her bakery has turned into a clothing store, her husband married someone else, and no one remembers her but me. The news said Coco died on the night of March 18, 2024, but in my world, Coco was alive."

"What else did the news say? Did they find the killer?"

"Wait, let me check. The news says... there are still no leads on the murderer."

I scoffed, "Of course, you can't name the killer because you are the killer. Only the police would know these details so clearly. Stop playing games; you killed Coco!"

"Why can't you believe me? I am you, and you are me. I know everything that's happening to you. Ask me anything, and I can prove I'm telling the truth."

"If you've been planning this, of course, you'd know all about me."

There was a pause on the line, then she said, "I have an idea. Like I said, every new memory from your experiences is transmitted to me. Write something on a piece of paper right now, and if I can tell you exactly what it is, it'll prove I'm telling the truth."

After hanging up, I sat in thought. Five minutes later, I turned on the light, pulled out paper and a pen from a drawer, and considered my next move. If she couldn't answer, I'd be sure she was the murderer. I'd go to the police at dawn. But if she was telling the truth, she could help me find Coco's killer from the future.

Sitting quietly on the couch, I waited. The phone rang again soon after, and she said, "You wrote with a red pen, not words but a pattern, three overlapping stars, and then you burned the paper, right?"