Chapter 173: Six Photographs, Four Red Crosses

In the basement.

Roan walked over to the refrigerator, checked its other compartments, and found them completely empty. The massive refrigerator was used exclusively to freeze this single item.

Stepping up beside Roan, Ryder gazed carefully and closely at the face inside the refrigerator, his expression complex:

"Roan, what do you make of this?"

"I have no idea."

Roan shook his head; the scene before them exceeded even his own expectations.

Yet, upon seeing the face bearing such a striking resemblance to Jorgen Landry, several hypotheses sprouted in the back of Roan's mind.

Guesses, however, remained merely guesses; evidence was required.

With this thought, Roan pulled out his phone, preparing to make a call.

First, he needed to instruct Investigation Squad 5 to dispatch a SWAT team immediately to stake out the area, in hopes of apprehending Jorgen Landry if he returned.

Second, he needed to summon the forensics unit to handle the severed head and search the house for evidence.

Before Roan could press the keypad, the sound of the front door being unlocked echoed from directly above them.

Ryder and Roan exchanged a silent glance, instantly drawing their Glock 18s and rushing upward in a tactical stance.

"FBI!"

"Don't move!"

The person appearing before them was not Jorgen Landry, but a middle-aged white woman.

Catching sight of the weapons in Roan and Ryder's hands, the woman hurriedly dropped her shopping bags and raised her hands in sheer terror:

"I'm the housekeeper here!"

A few minutes later, Roan and Ryder successfully verified the housekeeper's identity and confirmed she was telling the truth.

After offering brief words to calm her down, Roan began questioning her regarding matters concerning Jorgen Landry.

The housekeeper knew very little about Jorgen Landry; she only came to the house at designated times each day to help his mother with chores, spending the rest of her time working elsewhere.

As for why Jorgen Landry's mother was constantly asleep, the housekeeper explained that the older woman suffered from mental health issues requiring continuous medication, with deep slumber being a side effect of the drugs.

Listening to her account, Roan continued his inquiries:

"When Jorgen Landry hired you, did he specify any particular rules in advance?"

"Indeed, he did."

The housekeeper nodded, explaining that Jorgen Landry had instructed her beforehand that aside from his mother's bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen, she was forbidden to enter any other rooms.

Such a requirement didn't trouble her; she had been a housekeeper for over a decade and had certainly encountered far more absurd demands.

Hearing this, Roan suddenly remembered that Ryder had called him down to the basement before he ever had the chance to search Jorgen Landry's bedroom.

Giving the housekeeper a few brief instructions, Roan and Ryder immediately headed upstairs to the second floor.

The room on the far right of the second-floor hallway was Jorgen Landry's bedroom. Aside from a large bed and a wardrobe, it contained a desk and a bookshelf.

After a brief and thorough search, Ryder successfully fished several issues of Playboy magazines from beneath the bed.

"Fu--k!"

Catching sight of the white genetic residue smeared across the pages, Ryder's face twisted in disgust. He cursed under his breath and hurriedly tossed the magazine aside.

Feeling as though his hands had been contaminated, Ryder took a deep breath, turned around, and noticed Roan examining the bookshelf with rapt attention.

"What is it, Roan?"

Ryder pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands, asking anxiously:

"Did you find something?"

"Yeah."

Roan nodded, having discovered that the bookshelf was mounted on a pivot mechanism.

Ryder's eyes lit up. He quickly shoved the desk aside, while Roan seized the opportunity to pull the bookshelf firmly outward.

A wall safe and a whiteboard plastered with photographs suddenly came into view.

The whiteboard held a vast array of photographs, but the central figures consisted of only six individuals—four men and two women.

Carolina Belloz was among the women, her photograph now crossed out with a large red X.

In addition, three of the men's photographs also bore large red Xs.

It required little imagination to deduce that those three men had, in all likelihood, already perished at the hands of Jorgen Landry.

"Shit!"

"Fu--k!"

Ryder's expression shifted drastically at the sight. Roan muttered a curse under his breath as well, immediately pulling out his phone to dial Investigation Squad 5.

The identities of the three deceased males could be investigated later; the urgent priority was to uncover the exact identities of the remaining man and woman whose photos had not yet been crossed out.

"Son of a b--ch!"

In the office area of Investigation Squad 5, William furrowed his brow and cursed aloud, yet his fingers flew across the keyboard, rapidly unearthing the identities of the man and woman.

"Roan, the woman's name is Kimola Cara, and she's a prison guard at a local penitentiary."

"Good!"

Hearing William's report, Roan pressed further:

"Where is she now? Can she be reached?"

Several technical specialists in Squad 5 hammered at their keyboards with fingers blurring into afterimages. Seconds later, William slammed his palm onto the desk in fury:

"Damn it!

Kimola Cara was the victim of a street shooting half an hour ago and died on the scene!"

"Half an hour ago?!"

Ryder's expression grew even grimmer upon hearing this. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the phone in his pocket suddenly rang.

Glancing briefly at Ryder, Roan continued his questioning:

"What about the male in the remaining photograph? What's his name and background?"

"His name is Bai Qianbaisi."

Before William could answer, Mona, sitting not far away, called out loudly:

"He's an NYPD officer.

He's currently on administrative leave because he shot and killed an armed criminal on the street not long ago."

Roan nodded. Just as he was about to speak, Ryder stepped forward, tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed at his own phone:

"The call is from Lacey. She said your phone couldn't get through.

Edwin Miller at the hospital is one hundred percent certain that the man who purchased the gun was Jorgen Landry!"

"Well done!"

Giving Ryder's shoulder a firm pat, Roan spoke back into his phone:

"Mona, where does Officer Bai Qianbaisi live?"

Armed with the exact address of the police officer's residence, Roan stood in place for a few seconds of deep thought, reached out to tear the six photographs off the whiteboard, and stuffed them into his pocket. He then issued crisp orders into the phone:

"First, immediately dispatch a SWAT team to the house I'm currently at to stake out Jorgen Landry!

Second, Mona, you and Lacey head straight to the crime scene where female guard Kimola Cara was shot. Pull the surveillance footage from the surrounding area and search for Jorgen Landry!

Third, issue an immediate wanted bulletin for Jorgen Landry so that every patrolling NYPD officer recognizes his face!

Fourth, Jorgen Landry's next target is likely Officer Bai Qianbaisi.

Ryder and I are heading to Qianbaisi's home right now. Have a SWAT team follow us there, and we'll rendezvous on site!"

Hearing Roan's commands, the members of Investigation Squad 5 and Ryder straightened their postures in unison and roared back:

"Understood!!!"

"Good."

Roan nodded in satisfaction, hung up the call, and sprinted with Ryder toward the SUV.

Two NYPD patrol officers remained stationed near the house, and the property along with the housekeeper had been temporarily placed in their custody.

Officer Qianbaisi's home was some distance away, but relying on Roan's exceptional driving skills, the SUV arrived at his residence in short order.

"Hello there."

Investigation Squad 5 had contacted Bai Qianbaisi in advance. Catching sight of the heavily armed Roan and Ryder stepping out of the vehicle, he hurriedly ushered the two men inside.

"Hello."

The SWAT team would take quite a while longer to arrive. After exchanging brief pleasantries with Qianbaisi, Roan pulled the six photographs from his pocket, concisely outlined the case, and asked:

"Officer Qianbaisi, can you think of anything at all?"