Chapter 7: Finding a Scapegoat

"Are you both alright?"
Watching as the Ford smashed the trash bin on the side of the street to pieces, Royan turned to check on Mona and the girl in the camisole.
"I'm fine."
Mona was merely dusty, uninjured, but the camisole girl, caught in the driver's seat during the shooting, hadn't managed to get out in time; her shoulder and back bore several scrapes.
"As long as you're not hurt."
Royan automatically ignored the girl's profanities, gave Mona a look signaling her to handle this trouble, and picked up his gun, walking slowly toward the black Ford now fused with the trash bin.
Just as Royan expected, the Ford's driver's seat was empty. He circled the car, seeing nothing amiss, and began searching it for useful clues.
A minute later, Mona approached, smiling at Royan.
"Just a girl skipping school behind her parents' backs, I've already sent her away."
"Are you sure?"
Recalling the girl's anklet, Royan shook his head but didn't pursue the matter, instead handing Mona the vehicle registration he'd found in the car.
"The owner's name is here. Can you find out who they are?"
"Three minutes will do."
Mona threw Royan a 'trust me' look, turned to fetch her laptop from the SUV, and before leaving, patted Royan's shoulder.
"You actually found the killer. Lucky you… and lucky me, too."
Though she said three minutes, it was barely two. After a rapid burst of typing, Mona turned her laptop screen for Royan to see what she'd found.
"Conrad Cutler, male, forty, former Marine Recon…"
Seeing the photo matched the man who fired at him, Royan clapped his hands.
"I knew the killer had to be an ex-soldier."
"Yeah."
Mona nodded helplessly, closed the laptop, and then asked seriously,
"What do you plan to do next? The two of us can't possibly take him down."
"No, it's you who can't take him down."
Royan shook his head, uttering words that made Mona grit her teeth, then pulled out his phone before she could retort.
"First, I'll call our superior and ask them to issue a warrant for Conrad Cutler."
"Why?"
Mona was puzzled. Wouldn't issuing a warrant let the other teams know the killer's identity?
"Two reasons, Mona."

Royan pulled his phone from his pocket, grimacing at the brick-like Nokia, but still explained,
"First, we're in Scarsdale right now. It's a well-known wealthy suburb under New York. If a dangerous murderer is hiding here and anything happens, the two of us, mere interns, couldn't possibly bear the fury of the FBI higher-ups. We have to report this. If something goes wrong, it's their headache."
Mona was taken aback, turning to scrutinize Royan as if seeing him anew.
"Second,"
Royan finally found August's number in his contacts and continued,
"Whenever the FBI puts out a warrant, there's usually a reward. If we catch him, we get more money."
"... "
At the mention of money, Mona's eyes lit up instantly.
...

On the twenty-third floor of the Jacob Federal Building, in a certain conference room, August, head of Investigation Team Five, was meeting with other team leaders and the group supervisor, Verinise.
Beep beep beep—
Hearing his phone ring at his waist, August didn't hesitate, turning to leave the room.
The supervisor and other team leaders glanced at August but paid it no mind. It was standard practice; when a case came through, they had to answer promptly, even during meetings.
The next moment, August's booming voice pierced the walls and reached their ears:
"What? You've found the killer already?"
Bronson, leader of Team One, instinctively sensed trouble at August's words.
Could it be Royan Greenwood's case?
But remembering how he'd seen the interns in their office before the meeting, busy investigating the victim's social connections and analyzing clues, Bronson shook his head with a smile.
He must be overthinking.
Bang!
The conference room door swung open. August strode in and addressed Supervisor Verinise directly:
"Sorry, ma'am, I've got a shooting case needing immediate attention."
Verinise's expression didn't change as she asked,
"Which shooting case? I don't recall you having such a minor case."
"It's the interns' test case. I've got a new intern under me, Royan Greenwood. He just called to say he's found the murderer in the shooting case and engaged with him in Scarsdale."
August was respectful to Supervisor Verinise—he had no choice since she controlled the team's budget. Hearing her questions, August answered promptly:
"The killer is an ex-soldier, highly capable. After losing a car, he vanished. Given his strong counter-surveillance skills and ability to hide, Intern Royan Greenwood requested I issue a reward and urgently notify Scarsdale residents to be cautious."
Click.

Bronson's pen slipped and hit the table.
"Scarsdale is a famous wealthy district under New York,"
Verinise closed her pen, leaned back in her chair, and fixed her gaze on August.
"If anyone gets hurt there, I'll be in a tight spot, do you understand?"
"Yeah."
August nodded, signaling his understanding.
"I'll issue the reward and mobilize a SWAT tactical team to lock down and search the area."
Seeing Verinise nod in approval, August picked up his laptop and left the room.
"Intern Royan Greenwood."
Verinise jotted down August's mention of the name in her notebook, and Bronson, witnessing this, felt his eye twitch.
In the interns' office,
Aside from Royan and Mona's duo, and the hospitalized Fisher and Mark team, the remaining interns were all present.
"Mike's wife couldn't have committed the crime."
Jody, who had sided with Fisher but got beaten up by Royan, held an ice pack to her right cheek and muttered,
"According to the interrogation record, she was attending a seminar in Los Angeles at the time of the incident, and everyone at the seminar can vouch for her."
"Who are Mike's friends?"
"They're either journalists or politicians, or executives from various companies, like the partner Sean from this 'Moroway Pharmaceutical Company.'"
As the group of interns who'd been beaten by Royan discussed the case, the Mediterranean burst through the door, announcing loudly:
"Guys, you've got a new mission! Everyone, head to Scarsdale for the search operation!"
"What?"
Jody stood up, ice pack pressed to her face, and asked in confusion,
"But sir, we still haven't found the murderer in the shooting case..."
The Mediterranean waved her off, saying,
"This search is for the shooting case's murderer. And, since Royan and Mona found his trail, they've already earned half of the eighty points. The rest depends on who among you has the luck to catch the killer."
"WTF?"
At his words, the interns' office erupted in a chorus of expletives starting with F.