Chapter 69: Poor Eyesight (Please Keep Reading! Please Vote!)

"FBI?" Seeing the golden badge displayed before him, Jono was momentarily stunned, then his face lit up with hope. He nodded repeatedly and said, "That's right, my wife is missing. It happened just last night, I..."

As Jono spoke, he suddenly sensed something was wrong. Why had the people who come not been New Jersey police, but the FBI? Could it be...

The thought struck him, and his expression changed drastically. He asked urgently, "Agent, what happened to my wife? Where is she now?"

"Please stay calm, Mr. Jono," Roan replied, glancing back at Lacey. She nodded, ascended the stairs, and with a few words persuaded Jono's daughter to open the door, easily entering her room. Ryder, meanwhile, left the apartment to examine the surroundings, searching for useful clues.

"Our goal is to find your wife, which is something we have in common," Roan said, gesturing for Jono to sit. His expression was grave as he continued, "So please steady your nerves and answer my questions carefully. The more detailed your account, the better our chances of finding her."

"Okay, okay." Jono poured himself a glass of water, drained it, then took a deep breath. His face darkened as he began, "Susan and I married two and a half months ago..."

The story behind their predicament was not complicated. Jono, in his forties, had been married before, but his first wife died in a car accident, leaving him to raise his daughter, Sheena, alone. In recent years, as Sheena grew older and attended a boarding high school, Jono met Susan, who had just turned thirty, through a chance encounter.

He and Susan fell for each other at first sight; sparks flew quickly. After some time together, they married two and a half months ago at the small St. Fell Church nearby.

Since the wedding, whenever Sheena returned home from school, she would always be moody. The night before last was no exception. Father and daughter quarreled fiercely and retreated to their own rooms. The next morning, Jono discovered the front door ajar and, upon closer inspection, realized his daughter was missing.

He immediately contacted the New Jersey police to report her disappearance. At the same time, he and Susan drove around searching for Sheena.

Roan listened, jotting notes in his book, then looked up to ask, "Susan went to look for your daughter as well? The two of you split up?"

"That's right." Jono nodded, his voice low. "Around nine-thirty last night, I found my daughter at a small motel. I called Susan, who said she was near 'Louise's Market,' and would be home in half an hour. But she never returned—not by eleven—and she didn't answer my calls."

Roan scribbled another note, then asked, "Was Susan driving?"

"She was." Jono pointed outside at an old red sedan, his face grim. "She drove that car even before we were married. After she went missing last night, I went to the market looking for her. The car was parked at the corner diagonally across the street, keys still in the ignition. When I couldn't find her, I drove the car home myself."

"Okay." Roan circled something in his notebook, intending to check the market's surveillance footage. As he stood, his eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. "Mr. Jono, how tall is your wife, and how much does she weigh?"

"About 1.66 meters, forty-five kilos."

Roan got up from the sofa. Lacey descended from the daughter's room upstairs, waved goodbye, and accompanied Roan out the apartment door.

"Just a teenage girl duped by the school quarterback," Lacey remarked when she caught Roan's questioning look. "This likely has nothing to do with her. At least, I didn't sense she was lying."

Roan nodded—he trusted Lacey's judgment, given her background in intelligence.

He turned to Ryder, who shook his head. "No clues around the house, and there were no signs of struggle in the sedan. It's clear the missing woman, Susan, got out of the car voluntarily."

"Okay." Roan didn’t hesitate. He decisively led the two back to the SUV and drove to Louise's Market.

—

Louise's Market was a small shop, much like an Asian convenience store, run by an elderly white lady named Louise. When Roan asked about surveillance, Louise shook her head—she was too poor to afford cameras. As for what happened last night...

"Just as that woman got into her car, a gray sedan pulled up beside her," Louise explained. She confessed her eyesight wasn't what it used to be and she’d only caught part of what happened. "A white man, about forty, curly hair, plain black coat, got out of the gray car. He talked with the woman in the red sedan for a bit. She got out, smiling. The man smiled too, opened his trunk, and before the woman could react, he stuffed her inside."

Lacey and Ryder stared at her in silence.

Roan's mouth twitched. "Alright..." He jotted down Louise's account in his notebook. As for why Louise hadn't called the police—well, at the bottom rungs of American society, everyone had their past.

Roan pressed on, "Did you see the license plate? Or have you seen the driver before?"

"My eyesight's too poor to make out plates, and I couldn't see the man's face," Louise scoffed, fiddling with her dentures. "But I have seen him before—at St. Fell Church, when I used to go there for food. He wouldn’t eat, just stood half in shadow, half in sunlight, smoking quietly as he watched the newlyweds in the church."

At this, Roan, Lacey, and Ryder exchanged glances, their eyes lighting up. They were about to ask more when Louise suddenly handed them three cans of soda. "Three dollars, thanks."

Roan sighed and paid. Lacey and Ryder went to question the nearby shops, hoping some of the old, offline cameras might have caught something.

Roan walked to where the red sedan had been parked the night before. "Mona, is there any networked surveillance covering my current position?"

On the other end, Mona’s keyboard clicked, followed by a sigh. "That's the old neighborhood—most of it has no networked cameras at all."

Roan relayed the car color and departure time to her. "Then check the main roads around the area for any suspicious gray cars on surveillance during that time."

"Okay."

Soon, Lacey and Ryder returned.

"Most shops have old-style cameras, all facing inside," Lacey said, her face troubled. "A few face out, but only cover their own front doors."

"Same here," Ryder added.

"Alright." Roan wasn't surprised—this was typical of old American neighborhoods. He said nothing more and led them back into the SUV. "Let's check out St. Fell Church. I have a feeling we might find something interesting there."