Chapter 156: The Breast Augmentation Surgery

"Of course!"

Mona nodded, instantly grasping Roan's intent. She stood up immediately and said, "I'll go check Philomena's phone right now and track down the person behind that phone number."

As a client who hired an escort, that man had undoubtedly been in contact with individuals connected to this case.

"Good."

Seeing Mona understand his thoughts so quickly, Roan wore a faint smile, then led Lacey toward the elevator.

As the elevator slowly descended, Lacey glanced at Roan, who was lost in thought, a strange gleam suddenly flashing in her eyes.

Reflecting on Mona's behavior over the past few days, she realized not only was Mona guessing Roan's thoughts faster and faster, but even Mona's casual mannerisms in daily life and work were increasingly mirroring Roan's...

***

NYPD, Morgue.

"Good morning, FBI agents."

"Good morning, Medical Examiner. Just call me Roan."

Roan was no stranger to the elderly white medical examiner before him.

During the previous car accident case engineered by the CIA, when Roan and Mona came to examine Evander's body, this was the exact medical examiner they had encountered.

That CIA operative had even swaggered in and stolen Evander's computer while the old medical examiner was engrossed in an autopsy.

"Alright, Roan."

Having met Roan once before, the old medical examiner skipped the small talk, drained a cup of coffee, and said with a smile, "My name is Latham."

"Sorry to trouble you, Latham."

Glancing briefly at the covered female corpse and selectively ignoring the cup of coffee nearby, Roan asked in a deep voice, "Could you brief me on the condition of these bodies?"

"Certainly."

The medical examiner nodded, then reached into a nearby cabinet and pulled out a square cardboard box of instant noodles.

"But before that, I need to eat something."

The veteran medical examiner explained that he was getting up in years, and this time twenty-two bodies had arrived all at once.

Although colleagues had chipped in to help, the workload over the past few days had completely worn him down.

Catching the faint scent of decaying bodies in the air and watching the elderly medical examiner calmly eating right beside a corpse, Lacey's lips twitched involuntarily as she averted her gaze.

Working in the FBI's Trace Evidence Division over the years, Lacey had witnessed scenes like this many times.

However, seeing it often did not mean she was entirely accustomed to it. Though she no longer felt nauseous, she still found the atmosphere deeply unsettling.

Roan, on the other hand, was entirely unfazed. Not only did his expression remain unchanged, but he even inquired where the medical examiner had bought the instant noodles, noting they smelled quite appetizing and that he might try them sometime.

At this, the old medical examiner cast an approving look toward Roan.

Having spent his entire life in forensic pathology, he knew that when people saw him eating in front of corpses—aside from fellow medical professionals—most individuals would feel sick, vomit, and choose to leave the room.

A small fraction, like Lacey, would be accustomed to it yet still uncomfortable, choosing to quietly look away.

But someone like Roan—who was neither a forensic specialist nor someone whose daily work involved eviscerated bodies—could remain completely expressionless while watching him eat was part of an extreme minority.

"I'll give you the address later."

Finishing the noodles in a few quick bites, the old medical examiner wiped his mouth. Treating Roan with a level of dedication several times higher than usual due to his favorable impression, he explained in detail:

"These victims were killed successively over the past three years.

As for the most recent victims, numbers 018 and 019 died a week ago, while 020, 021, and 022 died three days ago."

Hearing this, Roan narrowed his eyes slightly.

Body number 021 was Philomena's younger sister. Earlier, he had suspected that she was ruthlessly murdered shortly after making the distress call.

It now appeared his deduction had been correct.

"The bodies of all these victims were stabbed fifteen to twenty-five times with a serrated short blade."

Pulling back the blue covering over the corpse, the medical examiner pointed to the area just above the breast and introduced the findings with a serious expression:

"All of these bodies exhibited the characteristics of sex workers.

Furthermore, on the upper chest of every single one of them, a piece of skin about the size of a bottle cap had been excised by the killer."

Looking at the excised patch of skin on the corpse, Lacey's face turned grim, while Roan lowered his head to examine it closely.

After a moment, Roan suddenly noticed that the flesh beneath the skin bore faint, uneven marks, prompting him to look up and ask:

"What is this?"

"Sharp eyes."

The old medical examiner patted Roan's shoulder with a smile and explained:

"Clearly, this is a mark used to identify the victims."

Roan fell silent for a long moment before nodding and speaking in a low voice:

"And it was forcefully carved into the victims using a heated blade."

"What?"

Hearing this, Lacey beside him wore a look of utter confusion:

"Why carved with a heated blade? Wasn't it just branded directly?"

"No."

Roan shook his head, turned back, and explained earnestly:

"The heat emitted from a brand is limited; it cannot penetrate the skin and reach deep into the flesh like this.

Only a heated blade could achieve this degree of damage."

With that, Roan turned to the medical examiner and continued:

"Out of the twenty-two bodies, is there any case where the marks are relatively clear?

Or can you reconstruct what the original markings looked like?"

Combining Philomena's account of her cousin's cry for help, the fact that all the corpses shared the characteristics of sex workers, and the presence of identical branding marks on every body,

it was not difficult to deduce that all the victims likely worked for the same organization.

The killer had removed the branding marks from the bodies precisely to conceal the identity of that organization.

Given these circumstances, the true mastermind behind this case was likely not only a serial killer, but perhaps also a human trafficker.

If they could restore the original shape of the branding, with the assistance of the Organized Crime Investigation Division, Roan believed they would soon be able to track down where this organization operated and identify the mastermind.

From there, they could dismantle the syndicate, capture the culprits, and rescue any remaining girls.

Lacey, deep in thought beside him, realized this as well and immediately cast a hopeful gaze toward the medical examiner.

Seeing this, the old medical examiner wore a grave expression and shook his head:

"The degree of decomposition is severe, and combined with the fact that they were submerged in the ocean for a prolonged period, we have no way to restore the original appearance of the marks."

"I see."

Roan felt a tinge of disappointment, though his expression remained largely unchanged, whereas Lacey's face instantly fell.

The higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment.

"There is one more thing."

Noticing Roan's composure, the medical examiner mentally tagged him as calm and steady. Nodding with satisfaction, he continued:

"Among the older girls here who were over eighteen, several had undergone polyacrylamide hydrogel implant procedures."

Lacey was slightly startled:

"Breast augmentation?"

Roan, however, locked onto the crucial detail and asked the medical examiner with a serious expression:

"Polyacrylamide? Are you certain?"

In his past life, injection-based breast augmentation using polyacrylamide had been strictly banned due to its extreme toxicity to the human body.

By this present time, most regions within the Federation had also ceased using the material.