Monday morning.
The sky was overcast, and thick cotton-like cumulonimbus clouds hung over Las Vegas, heralding a terrible rainstorm.
Dean asked Rust to take the Nikon F3 to the outside of the baseball field.
Usually at this time, about twenty members of the school baseball team have already started training under the organization of Bob and coach Tom, with nymphomaniac girls surrounding the sidelines, but today the baseball field is empty.
"Hey, Rust, who was that girl just now? She has a good figure and looks."
"Britney, last time I used her as an example at Bob's birthday party, she got very angry and asked me why."
"No, I think she has a certain affection for you." Dean said seriously, "She is deliberately trying to impress you."
"Is that so?" Rust said excitedly,
"Well, you have to work hard and get out of singles as soon as possible. Okay, now take a photo for me and make it look as handsome as possible."
Dean grinned with white teeth and a bright smile, and made an OK gesture with his back to the net.
The "shadow" stood side by side beside him.
He was in a good mood and had already started implementing the extreme tempering method last night.
I fell asleep due to excessive mental exertion and the quality of my sleep was excellent.
Although the current Shadow of the Past proficiency level is still 0, Dean believes that if he keeps practicing, he will improve sooner or later.
…
Rust took a few photos of Dean, but he didn't notice the "shadow" floating around him through the camera.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to wait for the film to be developed before checking again.
…
After the third class in the morning, Dean's long-awaited "trial" came.
Principal Ulysses, who had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept for several nights, found him.
Behind him, Rust, who had just been questioned, blinked at him worriedly.
"Dean, don't be nervous when you get to the office later. This is a routine question. It's absolutely fine to answer honestly."
Ulysses comforted him and then sent him to the door. Dean took a deep breath and quickly went through the original plan in his mind.
Entered the door.
Waiting in the office was a tall man with neatly combed black hair, a bit of a baby face, in his thirties, about the same height as Dean, about 1.75 inches tall, and handsome.
He exudes an elegant, soft and trustworthy temperament, without any seriousness or indifference of COP.
However, Dean's heart skipped a beat when he saw this. An ordinary COP would not wear a dark blue suit, a white shirt, and a tie. The quartz watch on his left wrist was shining brightly.
"Dean? I'm FBI agent Holden Ford."
The man first showed his ID, stretched out his hand to motion for him to sit down, and at the same time scanned Dean from head to toe.
"Don't be nervous, let's just chat casually. I had a great time chatting with your classmates just now."
His gentle voice makes people feel calm.
"Coffee?"
"Just a glass of water." Dean held the cup in both hands and tilted his head slightly to avoid the detective's scrutinizing gaze. "You, you are looking for me about Bob?"
"Have you heard?" Holden moved a chair and sat next to him, not far away but not too close, with sincere and candid eyes.
"I didn't know, but when I came to school this morning, everyone was discussing it, so..."
"How do you feel after hearing this?"
"Ah?" Dean lowered his head, pretending to be at a loss, "It sounds like a joke. Bob's family is so rich and popular, how could it suddenly disappear?"
"Mr. Holden, how did he die?" Dean took a sip of water and looked up, his expression timid and a little curious, "Everyone said that the way he died was very strange."
Holden shook his head and laughed, his eyes met Dean's, and he actually said it directly,
"Bob died a simple death, his head was shot with a gun, and the murderer left two letters next to his body..."
Um?
Dean felt something was wrong. It was their first meeting. Why did the FBI reveal such inside information to a high school student like him?
Is this in line with the rules? Isn't he afraid of psychological shadow?
But Dean continued to perform, his face turned pale and his lips trembled slightly, as if he was frightened.
Holden changed the subject, "Dean, I heard that your home is quite far from the school."
“It takes more than an hour to ride a bicycle to school every day.”
"Are not you tired?"
"Get used to it."
"How many people are there in your family?"
"Just an uncle, but he works in northern Nevada and I'm home alone most of the time."
Dean answered honestly.
"Your uncle, what's your job?"
"bodyguard."
With a strange look in his eyes, Holden walked to the desk very close to Dean, leaned his hips against the desk, and faced him condescendingly,
Dean felt that he had said something wrong just now.
"Where were you the day before yesterday?" Holden asked,
Dean cheered up;
"Saturday? Rust and I went to the Barca Disco in the South Side during the day."
"You are allowed in the bar?"
"We managed to sneak in and have some drinks. At four or five o'clock in the afternoon, I went home and fell asleep. Mr. FBI, please keep it secret for us." Dean begged,
"Is there anyone who can testify for you?"
Dean thought about it in a pretentious manner. Fortunately, he guided him in advance to strengthen the neighbor's impression, "My neighbors Jacob and Tangya met me at that time."
Holden nodded,
"I heard from several people that you and Bob had a conflict in the cafeteria last Tuesday and you injured him?"
The topic suddenly became acute.
Dean felt slightly uncomfortable and nodded silently.
"What is the specific reason?"
Dean's hands were visibly clenched into fists, as if he was engaged in a fierce psychological struggle. After a long time, he sighed.
"He used to hit me and scold me a lot."
"Oh, can you tell me more about it?"
"I didn't do anything wrong, but because I have yellow skin, the racists have trouble with me and make trouble for me..." Dean covered his face with his hands, his voice trembling.
Holden stretched out his hand to straighten the tie between his white shirts, stood up and walked around the chair, glancing at Dean's palm.
"He used to bully you all the time and you never resisted. Until last Tuesday, when you couldn't stand it anymore and beat Bob to a bloody head."
"I have no idea."
"I didn't say you were wrong, you did the right thing..." Holden's eyes showed a look of admiration, "Blind tolerance cannot buy respect. Only fists can save yourself from the predicament."
Dean was surprised. This FBI was quite reasonable and did not instill those hypocritical and rigid principles into him.
"But Bob's identity is not simple. If you beat him up, he won't let it go - has he ever threatened you?"
Holden asked, staring into Dean's eyes. Dean couldn't figure out what he meant by asking, so he didn't speak.
"Dean, I learned from the LVPD that the night you and Bob had a conflict, your home was smashed by a group of people."
"What do you mean? Are the two related?" Dean looked confused.
"There is no such coincidence in the world. As a smart and excellent student like you, you should have guessed it a long time ago. This is Bob's revenge!"
"Really? The LVPD police officers haven't given me a clear answer so far, nor have they caught the criminal who destroyed my home. Although Bob likes to bully people, he doesn't go so far, right?" Di immediately shook his head.
"But you can't deny that what happened that night scared you, right?" Holden asked in a determined tone,
Dean acquiesced.
"You feel fear, fear leads astray, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hatred, hatred leads to suffering."
"You need to find someone for comfort and protection," Holden spoke quickly and harshly. "He must be trustworthy and have the strength to protect you. And there is only one person who meets the requirements - your uncle Paques!"
"You told him all about your troubles with Bob, right?"
Dean's hand suddenly squeezed his thigh, denying,
"Mr. FBI, I don't understand what you mean. I didn't tell Paqui about this at all. He is usually too busy with work, and I don't want him to worry."
"It doesn't matter if you didn't tell him... My nephew's face is covered with wounds, and the house is in a mess." Holden's tone was calm with a hint of expectation and guidance, "And your uncle is a bodyguard. Bodyguards usually have outstanding observation skills. Nothing will be surprising.”
"Why do you always mention my uncle? Isn't it about asking Bob today?" Dean couldn't help but slap the table and looked up into his eyes as if offended.
"Relax, Dean, I will satisfy your curiosity. Although this is against the rules, I think you are a mature young man and you should know more."
Holden praised without hesitation,
"The murderer came and went without a trace in Bob's villa, and even took away the surveillance video of that day. This shows that the murderer is extremely knowledgeable about surveillance equipment and has excellent psychological quality. In this era, such a person is either a habitual criminal or a security company Employees, police, or – bodyguards.”
Dean looked over quietly,
Holden met his gaze and continued,
"And the timing he chose was very clever. Bob had bodyguards at home, but on his birthday, in order to let his classmates have fun, Bob asked all the bodyguards to leave temporarily. In addition, the murderer cleaned the scene very clean... Both of these points show that he is thoughtful .”
"In addition, the examination of Bob's body revealed that the murderer was surprisingly powerful, physically powerful, proficient in firearms and fighting, and had received military training. These are the basic qualities of a bodyguard."
Dean's eyes flashed with surprise, he shook his head, and stood up with a red face. The FBI actually traced it to his uncle.
In order to protect his only relative, his uncle Paqui secretly killed the rich second generation who threatened him without anyone noticing.
It sounds exactly like that.
But it was wrong from the start.
"Mr. Holden, do you suspect that my uncle hurt Bob? That's ridiculous! He would have left Las Vegas a few days ago."
"But he didn't go far. They were all in the same state. It's very convenient to fly back and forth." Holden tapped the table with his index finger upside down, and his pupils shrank tighter. "Although the fingerprints at the murder scene were cleaned very clean, In addition to Bob's DNA, we extracted the blood DNA of a second person from the blood stains at the scene. We only need to obtain the sample and conduct several comparisons to confirm his identity."
Dean pretended to be confused;
"Wait, what does blood DNA mean?"
Holden pressed forward step by step,
"Didn't you learn that in biology class? That doesn't matter, young man. You just need to know that if you find that your uncle hurt Bob and there is evidence, it is best to let him confess his guilt. This way the punishment may be lighter. Guan You can still reunite in twenty years."
"If we find out, it will most likely be the death penalty."
"Do you understand the death penalty? Nevada's execution method is the latest lethal injection, which is like an intravenous drip. The lethal drug is injected intravenously. Then you will never see your uncle, your only relative, again."
"That's terrible." Holden lamented, "He didn't have to die, as long as you said it."
Dean was stunned for a moment, his cheeks turned red with anger, and his eyes burst into flames.
"Stop! What is the death penalty? You are slandering my uncle and threatening me. I will call and complain against you!"
Holden's expression was stunned, and his face lost its calmness for the first time. This young high school student actually knew how to file a complaint with the FBI.
"Don't get excited. I'm just giving you a suggestion based on our current investigation. Since you don't want to talk about your uncle, let's not talk about it. Drink some water first and take a rest."
Holden let Dean take a breath, then took out two strawberry-flavored mint candies from his suit pocket, peeled one open and threw it into his mouth, and gave another one to Dean.
It tasted good, and Dean chewed it to relax his tense nerves.
Holden opened his mouth and cared about his daily life again.
The tense atmosphere in the office gradually eased.
Seeing Dean's facial expression begin to relax, Holden smiled and asked him a question in a casual tone.
"Back to the previous topic, Bob, I originally said how did he die?"
"Shot to death."
Dean blurted out.
"That's right. And then...what two letters did I say the murderer left beside his body?" Holden lowered his voice with a persuasive tone that made people couldn't help but listen.
"NR..." Dean replied in his mind, then his expression froze, and he tilted his head and looked at Holden in confusion.
"How do I know this? You clearly didn't tell me just now."
After saying this, Dean cursed.
Frank's FBI actually set a trap on high school students and dug a hole for me to jump into.
"Sorry, I didn't sleep well last night and my memory got worse." When the trick was exposed, Holden just shrugged.
"Mr. FBI, we have been talking for a quarter of an hour. It's time for me to go back to class."
Dean turned his head away and rubbed his temples, his face full of fatigue.
"ok."
Holden looked at his watch,
"I'm currently staying at the LVPD for a long time. If you think of any clues, come to the bureau to find me at any time."
…
Wait until Dean opens the door and leaves.
Holden took out his notebook and opened it, and a large number of names popped up.
"Wazzel, Ulysses...Rast..."
He wrote Dean's name on the blank page and a long explanation:
"The victim was subjected to long-term violence and resentment, which is consistent with the psychological profile of the murderer."
"There is a big difference in body size and strength, there are no calluses on his hands, he has not received professional fighting and shooting training, and he does not have the physical conditions to commit crimes."
“Alibi.
“The Q&A performance was normal.”
"Courageous and vigilant."
"Dean Lu, the suspicion is low."
Holden grinned and rubbed the paper with the tip of his pen.
"Continue to observe."
…
