Eight o'clock in the morning.
Lazy morning light filtered through the window.
After a gentle knock on the door.
A row of big men in black police uniforms with LVPD badges shining on their chests poured into Dean's ward, surrounding the bed.
"Good morning Dean, I'm Chief Laurel Howard of the LVPD..."
The old man among the crowd was in his fifties. He was thin and had gray hair on his temples. His face had heavy dark circles under his eyes, deep nasolabial folds, and was covered with traces of time.
But one can vaguely see the heroic appearance of his youth from his straight nose and deep eyes.
His gentle palm held Dean's hand firmly, his voice was full of anger and a hint of guilt,
"I'm sorry we're late. Are you feeling better?"
"I'm fine." Dean turned his eyes, and the COPs who came in all had friendly and enthusiastic smiles on their faces. "The wound has been bandaged, and the doctor said it will heal after a few days of rest."
Dean glanced behind the COP and was surprised to see a special acquaintance, a handsome FBI agent named Holden Ford in a dark blue suit, elegant temperament, and carrying a black briefcase.
"God bless."
The director paused, took a deep breath, and said sadly,
"Dean, on behalf of the entire LVPD, I sincerely apologize to you. Regarding the emergency incident on the anniversary, we made a review error... our management was too lax... our response was slow... which led to..."
"Regarding this vicious incident, LVPD will definitely give you a satisfactory explanation and compensation. Please rest in peace and recover. If you have any needs in life, please contact Officer Spears stationed at the hospital."
The police officer with a mustache next to the director smiled slightly at Dean.
"Now, have a good rest, young man, and wish you a speedy recovery." The director patted Dean's shoulder seriously, "See you in a few days."
He left with a group of people.
But one unwelcome person happened to stay.
"We meet again, do you still remember me?"
Holden sat on the nursing chair next to the hospital bed very familiarly, grinning,
"The FBI likes to make assumptions and threaten people." Dean shook his head helplessly and rubbed his eyes.
Affected by his improved spirit, he was so excited last night that even though he was exhausted after the extreme tempering, he still rarely suffered from insomnia.
"It seems that we have a deep misunderstanding, but don't be nervous. I have ruled out the suspicion of your uncle killing Bob." Holden gave him a thumbs up, "Now I am only expressing my opinion to you as an ordinary citizen. Thank you, I would like to ask you a few questions on behalf of the bureau."
Dean calmly took an orange from the bedside table and peeled it, chewing the sweet and sour citrus and asked,
"I also have a question for you. Is the situation serious this time? How many people died?"
Holden thought for a while and said with an ugly face,
"After preliminary statistics, the death toll is thirty-five, including your dear principal, Mr. Ulysses, who was also unfortunately killed. There were more than forty injured, filling two nearby hospitals."
"The impact of this attack is extremely devastating. Las Vegas has not seen such a horrific shooting in 20 years."
Holden changed his voice and looked at Dean with undisguised admiration.
"But among the vicious incidents, there are also glimmers of humanity."
"Because of your heroic performance, the school, LVPD, and the city government have prepared to award you with a bonus and a medal of honor in public on the day of the victims' memorial service."
Dean chewed in his mouth.
He was shot first and he didn't want to become a public figure for no reason.
Someone had to share the attention, so he said,
"Can't I be the only one to win the award? Where are the other warriors?"
"Who are you referring to? Your classmate?" Holden's eyes were surprised and he was a little confused.
"I vaguely remember that there were a few people who subdued the gunman with me, and Principal Ulysses was also... shot in the body at that time." Dean stared into his eyes and said seriously,
The warrior has died heroically - a dead man cannot reveal his perjury.
"etc!"
Holden suddenly frowned, raised his finger in front of his lips, and made a silencing gesture.
"This is different from what I know about the actual situation. The surviving black man Wazel said that from beginning to end, you were the only one fighting the gunman."
Dean showed an extremely ridiculous expression on his face and repeated what he said to Rust and his party last night.
Becoming more proficient this time.
"Wazzell, a black man, you know, he is probably crazy about Bruce Lee's "Enter the Dragon", so he has the illusion that all Chinese Americans are 'kung fu masters' from the Shaolin Temple, but he is wrong."
Holden clasped his fingers together, held his chin, and looked at Dean with piercing eyes.
"The situation analyzed on site is different from what you said."
"Then how can I kill three retired soldiers holding AKs alone and complete such an incredible challenge?"
Holden said nothing.
This is also a puzzle that the lvpd police officers have been trying hard to solve.
In the special terrain of Lake Mead's beach and surrounded by three gunmen, how can an ordinary high school student reverse the crisis on his own?
Ballistic analysis, scene re-enactment, eyewitness testimony, autopsy of the gunman, and various methods have been tried, but the complex scene at the time cannot be fully restored.
But in that case, even the elite of the "Delta" Special Forces would most likely be shot into pieces, let alone a high school student.
There are also some ambiguities and exaggerations in the testimony of eyewitness Wasser, and the credibility is questionable.
"All the people who resisted with you were shot?" Holden asked,
"I can't remember clearly, I was very nervous at the time." Dean saw the FBI's suspicious look and shook his head, "If you insist on saying that I did it alone, I can't help it."
"But are you sure that a yellow-skinned high school student who killed three white gunmen alone and saved a group of innocent whites and blacks can convince the public?"
Holden frowned, a complicated look flashed in his eyes,
The current social environment is very bad.
Just this year, Japan's automobile export volume has the momentum to beat the United States.
The performance of the three major automobile companies in the United States has plummeted, and many people have lost their jobs. They hate the people who took away their jobs, and they also hate all yellow skin.
Letting a yellow-skinned person become the only savior of the Lake Mead shooting in Las Vegas carries a huge risk of public opinion to some extent.
This is what the director asked him to figure out.
"Young man, I don't understand why you lie and are so resistant to being a hero, but I respect your statement. I will convey your words to lvpd. Maybe the bureau will help you."
Holden asked with a careful look, taking out a pen and paper from his briefcase,
"But I still have questions. One of the gunmen was strangled and his throat was wiped. Is this what you did? Don't deny it. There is fingerprint evidence. Where did you learn these skills?"
Dean stated calmly, "I learned some wrestling skills from my uncle. The guy was also seriously injured and couldn't use any strength. I strangled him as I usually do in practice."
"Why did you stab him in the neck after he was strangled to death? You didn't leave him alive."
"How do I know he fainted? What if he gets up and shoots me? I've never experienced that. I was so scared. I just tried my best. Do you understand?"
Holden wrote a comment and asked again,
"What about your throat-wiping technique? The gunman's trachea and aorta were severed with a single knife. Most people can't find the exact location."
"I don't know. Maybe I was lucky enough to hit the target. Mr. FBI, I killed the gunman. I don't deny it, but is this illegal? Do you need to interrogate me like a prisoner?" Dean looked at him. In the past, there is no use showing weakness and playing dumb now.
Holden shook his head, took out a photo of Colt M1911A1 from his pocket, and placed it in front of Dean.
"Is this your gun? You used its matching .45ACP to severely injure two gunmen. The angle was incredibly tricky, and it passed through the weak points of their bulletproof vests under their armpits. How did you do that?"
Holden's eyes were bright.
Dean thought about the telex.
The other party must have obtained his fingerprints from the gun, so denying it would be of no use.
"Maybe by God's blessing, I happened to be shot."
Dean was still vague;
"Don't look at me with that look. I registered, spent enough money, paid taxes, and purchased the firearm legally and compliantly. Moreover, I just bought it not long ago and I haven't practiced shooting much yet. You can check it at any time."
Dean simply told everything about his experience in Silent Hunter.
"You should know the reason for buying a gun. My house was ransacked by thugs and I was scared, so I bought some weapons to carry with me for self-defense!"
“Where did the money come from to buy the gun?”
"I wrote a song and sold it to the school's morning band. I made a fortune. If you don't believe it, you can check it. It has been filed."
Holden's eyes shone with a strange light, he circled half a circle around Dean, patted his shoulder, and quietly took away a hair from Dean's hospital gown out of sight. .
"Are all high school students today so powerful? Faced with the massacre, you fought back as bravely as Superman, and you also have musical talent and artistic talent. Dean, you are a genius."
His tone was full of admiration, with a hint of weird narcissism, as if he was praising himself in the mirror.
Genius again?
Dean got tired of this statement and changed the subject.
"By the way, I saw these three murderers when I left the Silent Shotgun Store. They were shopping for weapons."
"Are you sure?" Holden looked solemn, stopped, put his hands into his coat pockets, and hid the hair in elegantly, quickly and discreetly.
"Yeah! I'm very impressed. Their appearance is different from ordinary people, and they exude a unique temperament. There is a lame man among them. All these things match up!"
"SHIT!" Holden cursed in a low voice, "I knew Nevada's bad gun control policy would lead to big trouble sooner or later!"
As he spoke, he nodded,
"Thanks, Dean, you've been a big help. The Silent Hunter must have new clues. In exchange, lvpd will not care about your mistake of carrying a gun in public."
"Then when will you give me back the gun?" Dean's sitting posture was very strange, his eyes were looking forward blankly, not looking at Holden. He seemed to be talking to himself in the air. "You're not going to give me 'civil forfeiture', are you?"
"Which idiot in the LVPD dares to confiscate the heroes' weapons? If that happens, I can think of the headlines on the front page of the Las Vegas Daily News tomorrow - confiscation of the heroes' weapons for self-defense, but giving a green light to the murderous maniac?"
"Don't worry, I will send a message to lvpd when the time comes, and the gun will be returned to its original owner."
Holden solemnly promised, suddenly shrinking his neck, a gust of wind blew from the back of his neck, and at the same time, the top of his head stung, as if someone was pulling out his hair.
He didn't notice that the pockets of his suit were bulging and shrinking strangely in an instant.
Dean recalled Shadow with satisfaction.
"Have you found out anything about the three gunmen? They have no children? How could they be so cruel as to attack such a group of students?"
Dean was filled with indignation on the surface, but just asking casually, he didn't think the other party would tell such an important secret to a high school student like him.
But Holden just doesn't play by common sense.
"Further investigation is needed...but the backgrounds of the three have been clearly verified. They are all retired SOIDIERs who have settled in California."
"I participated in the failed battle that ended eight years ago. I was physically injured and suffered from psychological torture from PTSD. I couldn't find a stable job and didn't have enough sources of income to support my family, so I felt resentful."
"According to the descriptions of multiple survivors, they made similar remarks before taking action, so this action is probably an act of revenge against American society."
Holden's answers were smooth and easy, as if he was communicating with a colleague.
Dean couldn't understand this guy more and more. Was it illegal to tell him this?
"But there are also doubts..." Holden's voice changed.
"What about?" Dean quietly handed over a glass of water.
"If they have such a large amount of money to buy fully automatic weapons and expensive bulletproof equipment, why not send the money home, or keep it for themselves to improve their lives. There is only one possibility-"
Holden paused for a moment after speaking meaningfully, pushed away his chair and stood up, making an apologetic expression that meant that he didn't want to reveal anything anymore.
But Dean guessed what was going on.
The only possibility is that the gunman's family has already received a sum of money.
Whose money?
The real instigator, the person who planned this attack is paying for his life!
In front of Dean, a man with a round face, a hooked nose, neatly combed black hair, and the temperament of a business elite appeared in front of him.
Bob Lowe’s father——
James Lowe!
Dean's body suddenly tensed under the white hospital gown.
If James Lowe bribed the killer and organized this crazy attack, it must have been to avenge his son Bob Lowe.
Then he who killed his son was the original target of revenge!
…
"Dean, are you feeling unwell? Can I call a doctor for you?"
Dean shook his head, drank a few sips of water, and suppressed the guilt in his heart. He just did what he should do.
But he should have been more decisive in the first place. Once he realized the threat existed, he should have directly taken action to solve the hidden danger.
However, his experience in the harmonious society and the Chinese dynasty in his previous life still deeply affected his character.
Indecisive and tends to be conservative.
"This is a lesson!"
Dean said calmly.
This time, James Lowe must not stay!
Having made up his mind, Dean looked at Holden apologetically,
"I want to rest. Is that enough for today?"
Holden nodded and stood up quickly, but stopped in front of the door.
"Dean."
"Um?"
"Don't worry, the title of 'Hero' is a powerful talisman. No one dares to trouble you at times like this. Besides, I appreciate you more and more, and we will meet again soon."
…
Plop!
He closed the door and left the ward.
Holden leaned against the wooden door, took out his notebook, opened one of the pages, and crossed out all the records about Dean in one stroke.
He took out the hair from his jacket pocket and carefully put it into a plastic bag and put it away.
"There is a high probability that he sneaked into the villa and killed his enemy Bob Lowe. He was ruthless."
"He risked his life and forcibly killed the gunman in Lake Mead and saved a group of people's lives, but he was unwilling to admit it or be in the limelight."
"Weird boy."
Daylight shines in from the corridor window.
Holden Ford walked out.
…
In the ward.
Dean, who also had his back against the wooden door and was only separated from Holden, exited from God's perspective.
Think back to what you sniffed out of your notebook.
Holden gave him a very strange impression. He seemed to have no malicious intent, and he paid special attention to himself, and made many small moves.
"But I won."
During the conversation in the ward just now, Dean had passed through the 'shadow' and unknowingly took out the hair strands that belonged to him in the FBI's pocket and wrapped them into Holden's hair.
"Analyze and compare your own hair carefully, and then return my innocence. If you dare to mess up again, I will send you to heaven."
"But now we are going all out to deal with James Lowe. We must first find his whereabouts."
A black man appeared in front of Dean's eyes, a member of the baseball team.
"Bob Lowe's former hangers-on may have a clue."
