Chapter 157: Simple folk customs, harmonious and loving

"Of course I'm sure."

Seeing the expression on Roan's face, the veteran medical examiner chuckled, pulled the blue drape back over the corpse, and continued:

"As far as I know, all legitimate hospitals in New York State have stopped using polyacrylamide to perform breast augmentation surgery on women."

Hearing this, Lacey chimed in from the side:

"You mean the only ones still using this material are those underground back-alley clinics?"

"Exactly."

Receiving the medical examiner's affirmative response, Lacey blinked and turned to look at Roan.

Meeting Lacey's gaze, Roan shook his head helplessly.

"There are simply too many underground clinics in New York."

The city of New York has always been renowned for its simple folk customs and harmonious, loving atmosphere.

The citizens have also developed the wholesome habit of falling asleep to the sound of gunfire.

If there aren't a few gunshots on any given day, New York citizens actually find it hard to sleep.

However, whenever gunshots ring out, someone inevitably gets hurt, and injuries require treatment.

America adheres to the capitalist path of development; where there is demand, supply naturally follows.

Therefore, underground clandestine clinics spring up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain throughout New York's underworld, distributed across every borough.

Aside from the IRS, neither the NYPD nor the FBI could possibly manage to thoroughly investigate and crack down on all these underground clinics.

Hearing Roan's words and his resigned head shake, Lacey immediately frowned as she reached the same realization.

Just as she was about to say something, Roan suddenly looked up at the veteran medical examiner and asked:

"As for the doctor who performed these breast augmentation surgeries on these girls, what are your thoughts on their technique or skill?"

"Technique or skill?"

Hearing Roan's question, the veteran medical examiner raised an eyebrow; he truly hadn't thought in that direction.

Folding his arms across his chest to ponder carefully for a moment, the veteran medical examiner finally said in a deep voice:

"When performing the breast augmentation, this doctor used a multi-plane, repeated puncture injection method, causing the hydrogel to be diffusely distributed within the breast tissue.

Furthermore, during the hydrogel injection, there was no acute bleeding caused by the needle tip piercing small blood vessels, nor were there any lacerations or subsequent oozing caused by injecting into spaces that were either too deep or too superficial..."

"Sorry."

Hearing the medical examiner rattle off a string of professional terminology, Lacey wore a blank expression, waved her hands hastily, and asked:

"Could you just give me the conclusion directly?"

The medical examiner rolled his eyes upon hearing this, while Roan at the side rested his chin in his hand and nodded thoughtfully:

"You mean this doctor is extremely experienced in breast augmentation surgery, and is even highly likely to be a specialist in this field."

The medical examiner nodded in satisfaction, then cast a "look and learn" glance at Lacey.

Lacey: "..."

Just at that moment, Lacey's phone suddenly rang.

Pressing the answer button and chatting briefly for a few moments, Lacey tilted her head toward Roan:

"The surviving girl's surgery is completely finished, and she just woke up. Should we go question her now?"

"Of course."

Roan nodded, exchanged a few brief words with the medical examiner, and turned to leave the NYPD morgue.

***

Hospital, hallway.

Roan walked toward the elevators while Lacey, holding a file folder, walked alongside him and briefed him on the girl's background information:

"Janielle Skrodolov, 21 years old, Ukrainian.

In the autumn three years ago, she flew from Kiev to John F. Kennedy International Airport on a two-year tourist visa."

"Ukrainian?"

Roan raised an eyebrow, tilted his head to think for a moment, and continued to ask:

"Does she have any relatives in New York?"

"No."

Lacey shook her head, closed the file folder in her hand, stepped into the elevator with Roan, and explained:

"Janielle's parents are both Ukrainian, and all her other relatives are in Ukraine as well.

Customs records show that upon arriving in New York, Janielle was supposed to stay in a hotel suite. But Mona just checked that hotel's check-in records, and Janielle never stayed there at all.

In fact, Janielle completely lost contact on the very second day she arrived in New York."

Hearing Lacey's narration, Roan frowned deeply. As the elevator doors opened, he led Lacey toward the girl's hospital room.

Janielle lay in her hospital bed with bandages wrapped around numerous parts of her body. When Roan and Lacey pushed the door open and entered the room, she was silently shedding tears without a sound.

Giving Janielle a brief assessment, Roan saw that she was indeed a beauty who fit European aesthetic standards. He pulled a gold FBI badge from his pocket and said:

"Hello, Janielle. We are with the FBI. May we ask you a few questions?"

"The FBI?"

Janielle was slightly stunned, instinctively trying to wipe away the tears at the corners of her eyes, but both of her hands were injured and completely immobile.

Seeing this, Lacey hurriedly pulled a few tissues from a nearby box and gently wiped her clean.

"Thank you."

Janielle cast a grateful look at Lacey, thanked her in a somewhat raspy voice, and then turned her gaze to Roan:

"Are you FBI agents handling this case?

I'm begging you, you have to catch them! There are still many girls just like me trapped there."

"Of course, that's precisely why we're here."

Roan tilted his head toward Lacey, who immediately pulled a small notebook from her pocket, preparing to record any key information that might prove useful shortly.

Having received Roan's affirmative reply, Janielle wasted no time and immediately recounted the entire sequence of events.

When she was 18, Janielle saw an advertisement for a modeling agency in a newspaper in her rural Ukrainian hometown, which claimed they could take them to New York to work as models and make a lot of money.

Young girls with limited social experience always hold romanticized illusions about becoming models, so Janielle didn't hesitate long before calling the number in the newspaper.

At a company located in Kiev, after passing a simple physical fitness test and a background check on her identity, Janielle successfully boarded a plane bound for New York.

Sitting inside the airplane, Janielle thought this was the first step of her journey toward success in life.

Little did she know, it was actually the last-minute ride of her descent into hell.

"When I first arrived in New York, a man named John picked me up at the airport.

That day, John treated me very well. He not only took me sightseeing around New York's attractions, but also treated me to a delicious meal at a restaurant."

At this point, Janielle's face was filled with hatred and regret:

"That same night, John handed me a glass of champagne, and I drank it without a second thought.

When I woke up the next day, I found myself lying in a basement with my limbs tightly chained.

Shortly after, John walked in and told me that if I ever dared to resist, he would kill both me and my family.

Then, he brought in two other men and raped me, for three whole days..."

At this point, Janielle's face turned pale as she broke down in sobs.

Lacey's expression turned ugly upon hearing this. While offering low words of comfort, she picked up a tissue and once again helped wipe Janielle's tears.

Seeing this, Roan's expression remained unchanged, but deep down, he shook his head.

There is no such thing as a free lunch, and what is free is always the most expensive—this adage holds true everywhere.

A few minutes later, Janielle's emotions stabilized. Seeing this, Lacey offered a few words of comfort before asking in a low voice:

"Janielle, where is the location where John kept you imprisoned?"

"I don't know."

Janielle shook her head and replied through sobs:

"That place had multiple basements, and every basement held women just like me.

But every time I was taken out to be forced into prostitution, John would always have someone blindfold me."

Hearing this, Lacey frowned deeply. Just as she turned her gaze toward Roan, Janielle suddenly spoke up:

"But I do know one thing."