Chapter 118: Timed Thermal Bomb

More than forty minutes later, Agent Neal from the Trace Inspection Department emerged from the secondary bedroom.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

Roan, who was rummaging through the kitchen, quickly approached and shook hands with Neal’s chubby little hand, then asked with a serious expression, “What’s the identity of this corpse?”

A smile appeared on Agent Neal’s round face. “The body is well preserved. Judging from the face alone, it should be the person you mentioned—Kennoly Martin.”

Upon hearing this, Roan nodded solemnly and continued, “What about the exact time of death?”

“We’ll only know the precise time after the autopsy is complete,” Neal replied with a chuckle. “But based on my colleagues’ experience, the time of death is roughly three days ago. As for the cause, there are ligature marks on the neck, so it’s preliminarily ruled as mechanical asphyxiation.”

At this point, Neal pulled out a transparent evidence bag from behind him, containing a ball bearing that Roan had found earlier in the bedroom.

Roan raised an eyebrow. “If I’m not mistaken, these are components used to make bombs, right?”

“Exactly,” Neal nodded solemnly. “My colleagues detected traces of a special oily substance in the secondary bedroom. Combined with these wires, ball bearings, and nails, they concluded the perpetrator intended to make a timed heat-release bomb.”

Hearing the mention of a timed heat bomb, Roan’s brow furrowed. That was one of the crude explosive devices used by rebels in the previous era against America.

“All right, thank you.”

Neal smiled and waved off the thanks, suggesting they should go out for drinks sometime, then left the house with his colleagues and the body.

Suddenly, Roan’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Lacey.”

The voice on the other end was noisy. After a door slammed, the noise quieted, and Lacey’s voice came through clearly: “About half an hour ago, you asked me to investigate Martin’s situation at the hospital where he worked. I’ve almost finished.”

“Thanks for your efforts.”

Roan nodded and sat down heavily on the sofa in the room, asking in a low voice, “What exactly did you find?”

“According to the nurses who often accompanied Martin, he hasn’t been to work these past few days,” Lacey said, clearly annoyed. “The one who actually drove the ambulance was Martin’s distant cousin, a middle-aged white man named Thomas.”

Roan’s brow tightened. “What’s his story?”

“The nurses said this kind of thing happens a lot. If someone has an emergency, they get a relative to cover for a few days. The hospital doesn’t care,” Lacey replied grimly. “I reviewed the hospital’s surveillance footage from these days. Thomas never took off his mask in the footage. I also asked the nurses—they never saw him without the mask either, so no one knows exactly what Thomas looks like. The only facts: Thomas is middle-aged, has a somewhat high-pitched voice, long hair with a lot of gray.”

“Okay.”

Roan jotted down Lacey’s description on a sheet of paper. After a brief chat, they hung up.

Ryder, who had been waiting nearby, pushed the sofa aside with a stern look and asked, “Roan, do you think this Thomas is the same person as Jaquell?”

“No, they’re definitely not the same. Thomas is probably an accomplice Jaquell brought in. Most likely, Thomas tampered with Ivander’s car and caused the accident,” Roan explained.

Hearing Ryder’s question, Roan shook his head. “The CIA dossier on Jaquell says he’s 36 years old, well-built, with a buzz cut and no gray hair.”

Roan led Ryder into the kitchen and opened the cabinet holding the cutlery. “I checked carefully; there are two recently used sets of utensils here. Martin died three days ago, so he couldn’t have used them. The only ones who could have used two sets of utensils are Jaquell and Thomas.”

“Okay.”

Ryder had seen Roan inspect the utensils earlier before handing them to the Trace Inspection Department for fingerprint analysis. He then asked, “What do we do next?”

“I’ve asked William and the others to sift through the nearby surveillance footage. They should finish in about thirty minutes. Then we might catch a glimpse of Thomas and Jaquell.”

Roan handed Ryder the paper with the description, then paused thoughtfully, suddenly remembering something. Tilting his head, he asked, “By the way, did you find any credit cards in this house?”

“No,” Ryder shook his head.

“Neither the Trace Inspection team nor I found any,” Roan said, his eyes brightening. He pulled out his phone and called Mona.

“What’s up?” she asked.

Without hesitation, Roan said, “Mona, check Martin’s credit card records. Has there been any recent activity? I suspect Jaquell and Thomas still have it.”

If Jaquell had used Martin’s credit card in the last couple of days, they could track him down quickly.

“Okay,” Mona replied and immediately started typing.

A few minutes later, Mona spread her hands and said over the phone, “Sorry, Roan, Martin’s credit card hasn’t had any transactions these past two days.”

Ryder frowned deeply on this side of the line. Roan rubbed his forehead, pondering a moment before asking, “What about before that? Did Martin buy anything unusual?”

“What do you mean by unusual?” Mona glanced at the purchase records with some confusion. “This week, Martin’s purchases were clothes, pants, food... and so on.”

Suddenly, Mona froze, then shouted, “Roan! Martin’s credit card records show he bought an expensive backpack three days ago!”

“But we haven’t found the backpack here! And Martin was alone—no girlfriend, no relatives. Why would he buy a backpack?”

At Mona’s words, Ryder’s eyes lit up. He quickly turned to Roan and said, “Agent Neal from Trace said the ball bearings found in the secondary bedroom could be used to make a timed heat bomb! That backpack must have been bought by Jaquell and the others to make a backpack bomb!”

Roan stroked his chin and nodded slowly. “Most likely.”

Hearing Roan’s confirmation, Ryder grinned widely, hands on hips, proud.

“But,” Roan suddenly looked puzzled and asked, “Jaquell and Thomas’s actions are clearly motivated by revenge. They must have a target for the bomb. Who do you think that target is?”

Ryder was silent.

(End of chapter)