Chapter 64: DEA (Please follow! Please recommend!)

Fifth Investigation Unit Office Area.

The rapid clatter of keyboards echoed through the room. After a long while, Mona tilted her head toward Roan, who sat beside her, and said:

“You guessed it right, Roan. The four victims from the State Lake body dumping case—Linda Chepo, Beatrice Lyon, Natalie Carlisle, and Tamara Terry—all held their wedding ceremonies at St. Phil's Chapel in the Closter area of New Jersey.”

“Okay.” Roan nodded at her words. Ryder, seated nearby, leaned over, glanced at the screen for a few seconds, and then asked:

“Is this connected to the serial murders?”

“Most likely.” Roan nodded and explained:

“There’s no connection between the victims’ home addresses, workplaces, or social circles. They don’t even share physical traits—like all being blonde or redheaded. The only thing they have in common is that they’re all married women. Now that we know all of them had their weddings in the same chapel, it’s impossible to say there’s no link.”

Mona continued pulling up lists of couples who’d married at the chapel in recent years, then said:

“Before the ceremony, the chapel staff require each couple to fill out their personal information—names, home addresses, workplaces, and so on. According to the manager, unless the newlyweds come back to request those files, the information is stored on paper at the chapel and only cleared out every few years. The killer could easily use that data to track down the victims.”

“So this is where the murderer picks his targets,” Lacey said with a nod, her arm wrapped around Mona’s waist.

Roan shot her a glance, and then asked Mona in a low voice:

“Can you find out who has access to the newlyweds’ information?”

“That would require an on-site investigation at St. Phil’s,” Mona replied, spreading her hands in exasperation. “In theory, only the chapel administrators have access to those files. But according to couples who’ve married there, apart from the main hall—which is tidy and well-lit—the rest of the chapel is very basic. There’s nothing valuable inside, so there are no cameras in the corridors, the small rooms are rarely locked, and security consists of an elderly priest. If someone really wanted to steal information, they could do so without attracting any attention.”

“I see.” Roan massaged his temples, staring at a photo showing crowds eating for free in the chapel’s courtyard during a charity event at a wedding. After a long silence, he said:

“Alright, Lacey, go with Ryder to St. Phil’s and bring back the list of all couples who married there in the past ten years. We’ll have to cross-check them one by one.”

“What?” Ryder showed no reaction, but Lacey, still caressing Mona’s waist, leapt up in surprise, her face full of questions:

“Why do we need records from so long ago? Why not just check if the chapel manager had an alibi at the times the four victims disappeared?”

“We will investigate that, but not yet.” Seeing the puzzled looks from Lacey, Ryder, and Mona, Roan cleared his throat and explained:

“First, among the four victims, Tamara Terry got married eight years ago but was killed only two weeks ago. We can’t be sure if there’s any connection there. Second, according to the coroner, it’s clear the murderer is not a first-timer. So we need to check among the couples from the chapel to see if there have been previous disappearances, and try to find the bodies or discover connections between victims. The more crimes the killer has committed, the more likely he’s left clues behind, especially in his early offenses. Those could give us, the FBI, plenty of evidence to unmask him. Third, there’s not a shred of forensic evidence linking the killer to the bodies of the four victims. Even if the chapel manager doesn’t have an alibi, it’s useless—without evidence, we can’t tie him to the victims. So, while we investigate the staff, we must also find previous cases by the killer and gather more evidence to nail him!”

After Roan’s measured explanation, Lacey and Ryder nodded in sudden understanding, turning decisively to leave the office area.

Mona stared at her computer for a moment, then tilted her head and asked:

“But at weddings, there are so many random people who come for the food during the charity events. What about them? We can’t rule them out as suspects either.”

Roan glanced at Mona, about to answer, when August strode in with two white agents in suits, calling out:

“Roan! Come to the conference room!”

“Yes, sir.” Roan patted Mona’s shoulder, instructed her to log into the FBI database and focus on homicide, assault, and stalking cases in the St. Phil’s area, then headed into the conference room.

As soon as he closed the door, August pointed to the two agents and introduced them:

“On the left is Special Agent Norton from the FBI’s Organized Crime Division. On the right is Special Agent Marlon from the DEA.”

The FBI’s Organized Crime Division primarily handles gangs. The DEA, or Drug Enforcement Administration, focuses on combating illegal drug trafficking and use in the U.S.—illegal only! Legal substances are not their concern.

“Hello, just call me Roan.” Roan raised an eyebrow, shook hands with both agents, and asked, “What brings you here today?”

“Hello, Agent Roan.” The two special agents exchanged a glance before Norton, from Organized Crime, explained:

“This past year, both our departments have been investigating the Hyena Gang, hoping to put their boss, Lurane, behind bars…”

In short, the black man named Yoan, whom Roan arrested earlier, provided some clues that were trivial to him but crucial to the FBI and DEA after a joint interrogation using advanced recall techniques. So the two agents came to the Fifth Investigation Unit to thank Roan.

When he saw the $1,000 check they handed him, Roan raised his eyebrows—he hadn’t expected to get paid for nabbing just any random black guy. There were so many on the streets…

Casting a glance at August, whose large frame and dark face filled the space, Roan quickly put that thought aside.

“Thank you,” he said politely, accepting the check.

Just then, catching Marlon from the DEA clearing his throat and about to speak, Roan’s eyes flashed. He quickly slipped the check into his pocket, grabbed both agents’ hands, and put on a warm smile:

“As an FBI agent, I’ve always admired the work of your two departments! Whenever you need help—except for going undercover, assassinating gang leaders, gathering intelligence, planting bugs, secretly filming, seducing a gangster’s wife… anything dangerous like that—rest assured, I’ll do whatever else you need! Trust me, I’m very good at solving cases!”

Marlon: “…”

Norton: “…”