LVPD.
Dean and Rust approached Carl to inquire about the progress of the investigation.
"Two, be patient, it's just been a morning, how can we find clues so quickly?" Karl shook his head, "The guys are still checking surveillance videos outside, questioning Grace's former colleagues... They will probably bring the evidence collected in the evening. return,"
Karl rubbed his temples and said slightly tiredly, "I'll have to stay up late again then."
"We found an important suspect," Dean said. "I don't know the specific name, but I can describe his appearance. I need a professional painter to help me draw him."
Dean is a soul-level painter and cannot describe the appearance of a man with a scarred face. There is no computer graphics in this era.
"Wait, what suspect? Where did you find it?" Karl frowned tightly.
Dean gave Rust a look, and the latter recounted his experiences and inferences in the morning.
"Scar-faced man, maybe he is a loan shark? Worth investigating." Karl touched the shiny Mediterranean Sea, looked at Dean, and nodded, thinking of the other man's surprisingly accurate intuition in many past cases.
"Currently, there is no full-time simulation painter in Lvpd. We can only wait for Holden to come back and let him draw it himself, or go to the nearby art academy to hire a teacher, but it will take a long time."
"Then wait for Holden. But what profession are you talking about as a simulation portrait artist?" Dean asked curiously,
Karl started to popularize science with admiration on his face.
"A mock portraitist, also called a criminal portraitist, can draw a suspect based on the descriptions of witnesses or victims."
"But they not only need to understand painting, light and shadow lines, but also criminal investigation and medical anatomy."
Karl looked at the thoughtful Dean and the unclear-looking Rust, and smiled.
"They can combine the environment, cause of death, and anatomy to draw the original appearance of highly decomposed corpses and even skulls."
"You can also communicate with witnesses, ask about the suspect's physical characteristics, and draw a portrait."
“A good analog portrait artist is not one who copies and imitates, but one who performs reasonable analysis and reasoning, and has excellent spatial imagination and reasoning abilities.”
"You mean Holden is so powerful?" Dean asked,
"Otherwise, why would the bureau provide this free man? Mock portraitists are very rare in the United States, almost one in ten thousand."
Karl changed his voice and looked at the young man in front of him with a complex expression.
"Speaking of which, you are not bad either. I can at least understand some of the thinking process of the simulation portrait based on the existing evidence and descriptions. And you, you helped me catch the Abby case and the robbery and murder case last time. The murderer's process... was just like making a guess out of thin air, and it also fooled you."
"Your methods consist of a lot of imagination and lack of scientific evidence, but you always manage to catch the murderer."
"I took it as a compliment."
Half an hour passed.
Holden finally arrived late. Without saying a word, he led the two of them straight to the office. He took out the charcoal pen and sketch pad from the filing cabinet, sat down in the most comfortable position, and glanced over.
"Let's get started, Dean, first tell me what the face shape of the suspect you saw is."
"Didn't you see that outside the Gawain Hotel?" Dean said,
"It's been more than a month, and I didn't pay much attention at the time." Holden shook his head, "Hurry up."
Dean closed his eyes, and his mind instantly sank into the "record" function of God's perspective, and began to look through the video records from more than a month ago.
The process was like playing a VR game. He once again saw the scene of the scar-faced man entangled with Grace.
In this illusory country, he is a pair of omnipresent eyes that can change the angle at will and observe as much as he wants.
"Winter melon face, long chin." Dean said.
Holden casually sketched a skull-like circle, and then drew a jaw-like outline below to show,
"Well, the angle of the jaw line is a bit wider."
"What now?"
"suitable."
“Tell me what you think are the most prominent facial features of the suspect, the more detailed the better.”
"There is a scar the size of a small fingernail on the bridge of his nose. It is shaped like a coin and is located between the inner corners of his eyes."
The pencil slid across the white paper, and Rust, who was quietly observing from the side, held his breath and listened to the exchange between the two.
"Do you think that's the case?"
"almost."
Holden drew several criss-crossing lines to divide the face into several areas.
"Tell me what kind of eyebrows and eyes he has?"
"Light and sparse eyebrows, eyes as small as mice, and flickering eyes."
“Single eyelid or double eyelid?”
"Single eyelids."
"what occupation?"
"Maybe it's private lending."
…
In the office.
Methodical conversations echoed, along with the sounds of pencils and erasers gliding across white paper.
Holden kept asking about the suspect's appearance, temperament, and posture. Based on Dean's answers, he thought, considered, and repeatedly deleted and revised the work, and finally painted a lifelike portrait of the suspect.
He has a scar on the bridge of his nose and sinister eyebrows. He looks like a cunning middle-aged man with a hint of cruelty.
Dean glanced at it, then compared it with the images in the record, and exclaimed,
"The drawing is 80% similar to the suspect himself. You hide it very well. You are not only a profiler but also a one-of-a-kind simulated portrait artist."
Holden put down his sketch pad and shook his head,
"I'm average in profiling, but I'm just an amateur in simulation."
"The reason why the painting is more accurate this time is because of your description. Few witnesses can describe the suspect's appearance so accurately and specifically, even the angle of the nasolabial folds on the side of the nose is not neglected. If it were any painting skill, Any solid guy who comes to take over is no worse than me.”
Rust also looked at his companions with a look of amazement, "Those three little bastards gave vague and general descriptions about the scarred man, but you only met this guy once last month, and you actually remember it so clearly. Do you have such a good memory? "
Dean shook his head and mumbled, "I'm just sensitive to this criminal's appearance."
…
Next, the three of them made a bunch of copies of the scarred man's portrait, leaving most of them for the police officers in the station. Dean and Rust divided the remaining ones between them.
Rust gritted his teeth and looked at the man in the painting, and suddenly suggested,
"Boy, can we post the portrait?"
Holden and Dean looked at each other and shook their heads,
"It's just suspicion at the moment, without any evidence. And if the scar-faced man is really the murderer, doing this will definitely alarm him, causing him to escape, clear up the evidence, and even kill and silence him."
Rust's face turned white,
"Don't be too anxious. The guys in the team are all veterans. With this portrait, as long as he is still in Las Vegas, he can't escape." Holden put a copy of the portrait under his arm and calmly said Analysis: "Let's go take a look at the file. This guy is not a good person. He may have committed a crime and left a criminal record."
…
Holden led the two of them to the archives office, and they immersed themselves in reviewing the dense photos. Rust was very energetic and especially active.
"Do you think this guy looks like him?"
"Scarface doesn't have such a big hooked nose."
"Look at this photo, the hair, eyes, nose, they look like twin brothers with scarred faces!"
"To be honest, it doesn't look like it at all. Rust, calm down, don't look at everyone as a suspect, it will only slow down the progress."
"I-I understand."
From about three o'clock in the afternoon to about six o'clock in the evening, the three of them were busy until it was dark. They looked through hundreds of photos of criminals in the case, but unfortunately, they could not find any matching targets.
Just at this time.
The police officers who went out to investigate gradually returned and entered the team's conference room to analyze the case and collect various evidences.
"Watching surveillance and confessions is very tiring. You two should go home and rest. You will be exhausted before others find you." Holden put away the criminal's file. "When I come back tomorrow morning, I will tell you the conclusion directly."
Dean persuaded Rust, who wanted to stay, and handed Holden a few hundred-dollar bills, "Take this money to treat the guys to a midnight snack."
"You have a heart."
Holden took the money and left with the pile of copies.
"Man, I owe you the money for this treat." Rust was so ashamed that he asked his friend to spend money to smoothen the relationship even though it was his own case. "I will pay you back when the case is over."
"It's all about money. Just treat me as a friend and don't mention it." Dean put his arm around his shoulders and smiled. "Half a year ago, I shamelessly spent a lot of money eating and drinking from you. And I said I owe you a favor, and I don’t want anything to happen to Grace.”
As he spoke, Dean suddenly turned his eyes to the door of the police station.
Carrying bags, Britney, Baker and five other friends trotted over from the police station lobby, surrounded Rust, and chirped with concern and greetings.
Next to her, Gretchen picked up her shoulder bag and lightly hammered Dean.
"Is there anything we can do to help?"
"It's really a bit of physical work."
…
It was inconvenient to post photos of the man with the scarred face, so everyone printed a lot of Missing Notices for Grace, drove around the city and posted them all over the walls, telephone poles, and street lamps.
I finished the work around ten o'clock in the evening.
"Advertising worker" Dean took Rust back to his home. After all, they had just taught three gangsters a lesson near Rust's house in the morning, and there were certain risks there.
As soon as the two entered the house.
"Good evening, Mr. Pacqua."
"Come here, Rust."
Paquet, who was paralyzed on the sofa watching the TV song and dance show, put down his beer and sat up straight.
"I heard about it on the phone. Don't worry too much. Your mother will definitely come back safely." Paqui opened a can of beer and handed it over. "You will take a shower and go to bed early. You look exhausted."
Rust took the beer and took a big sip. He sat tiredly on the sofa and yawned, but his body was trembling slightly.
Too many things happened today, which made him exhausted both physically and mentally.
As soon as he closed his eyes, the face that was familiar to the depths of his soul seemed to be leaving him.
There was a vague fear in his heart, and he didn't dare to think about it.
"Last, relax. You have tried your best. Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Otherwise, when Grace comes back and sees you so haggard, she will definitely feel distressed to death."
"Yeah." Rust took a deep breath and leaned back on the sofa.
Paquilla looked at her nephew again, "What is that in your hand?"
"Suspect." Dean handed over a painting casually, "We must find him as soon as possible."
Paquet looked at the portrait and frowned for a while, thinking, "Andre and Jacob know some local friends who are well-informed. I took the portrait and asked him to help find it."
"Thanks, Paqui." The drowsy Rust next to him suddenly became energetic.
"Don't make it known to everyone and alert the suspect." Dean reminded,
"Forgot what your uncle does, I know what's appropriate." Paqui patted his chest and smiled heartily at the two of them, "Just wait for the good news."
(End of chapter)
