Chapter 84: The Investigation Begins (Please Subscribe! Vote for Me!)

Following Mona's finger, Roan looked at the computer screen and saw a record of an expensive meal at a high-end restaurant.

"Four days after the sixth bank robbery, Elken took his family out for a lavish dinner at this Michelin one-star restaurant," Mona said. Her fingers danced over the keys, and soon the surveillance footage from the dining hall appeared on the screen. After a slight adjustment, the video of Elken’s family dining that night was displayed before them.

It was clearly a family celebration for Elken’s daughter receiving a recommendation letter, allowing her to enter university. During the meal, Elken even permitted his daughter, Selina, to have a little wine.

The whole dinner was harmonious and joyful; the Elken family was warm and happy together.

After watching the surveillance, Roan scratched his head beside the computer. Mona shrugged, a hint of envy flickering in her eyes, but her tone remained emotionless as she said, "A daughter going to university is an important event. Celebrating in a place like this is perfectly normal."

Whether out of sympathy for the Elken family's experiences or envy for Selina, Mona's feelings were complex.

"Let's go investigate the scene," Roan said. He wouldn't say much until the truth was uncovered.

Lacey hadn't returned yet, and Ryder was still in the hospital, so this time only Mona accompanied him.

Seeing Roan once again don his tactical gear—combat suit, plate carrier, smoke grenades, flashbangs, two Glock 18s, and ten extended magazines—Mona pressed her forehead and sighed in exasperation.

She was now very certain that Roan suffered from a severe lack of security.

—

The dark SUV sped through the streets of New York, quickly arriving at the laundromat in Queens.

The bell jingled as Roan pushed open the door. He and Mona entered.

Several machines in the laundromat were busy at work; one seemed to be malfunctioning. A thin white woman was kicking the machine, cursing under her breath, and preparing to make a phone call.

"FBI!" Roan announced, flashing his golden FBI badge at the woman and asked, "Where's the owner of this laundromat?"

"I am!" The woman, Zoe, recoiled a step nervously, her lips twitching at the sight of Roan in full tactical gear. "What do you want with me?"

"You're the owner?" Roan frowned. "Isn't Elken the owner of this place?"

Hearing Roan wasn’t here for her, Zoe relaxed, put her hands on her hips, and began cursing Elken. "You're right, Agent. Elken was the previous owner, but he sold the laundromat to me for a bargain two nights ago.

I've known Elken for years and thought he was honest, but the machines in this place are riddled with problems. I've been fixing them nonstop since this morning."

Roan and Mona exchanged glances, sensing something was off. Roan quickly interrupted: "Why did Elken sell you the laundromat two nights ago?"

"How should I know?" Zoe scowled, clearly annoyed. "Maybe it's because his daughter is going to college out of state, so he doesn’t plan to stay here anymore."

Was he taking this opportunity to leave New York?

Mona turned to Roan, about to ask, when Roan’s eyes flickered and he continued questioning, "When Elken sold you the place, what was his demeanor? Was he in a hurry?"

Roan harbored other suspicions.

Zoe shook her head, saying she owned a bakery at the end of the street and that when Elken came to her home two nights ago, he didn’t seem anxious. They haggled over the price for quite a while before settling on a deal.

Roan frowned at this, his suspicions dissolving.

"OK, thank you for your cooperation." After a few more casual questions yielded nothing useful, Roan and Mona left the laundromat without further ado.

Roan floored the accelerator and the SUV sped onto the street.

In the passenger seat, Mona’s fingers flew across her laptop, brows knitted. "No record of the Elken family purchasing tickets out of New York, and NYPD’s checkpoints on the highways around the city haven’t logged their car leaving."

"So they’re probably still in New York," Roan nodded. He’d suspected Elken was under duress, selling the laundromat in a hurry, but Zoe’s description didn’t fit that profile.

—

The SUV soon arrived at the Elken family's apartment building, an old structure.

Taking the elevator to the third floor, Roan and Mona walked down the corridor to Elken’s door and knocked.

Bang bang bang!

"Is anyone home?" Roan called out, but there was no answer.

Mona tilted her head, about to speak, when Roan’s nose twitched and his expression changed. He quickly signaled Mona to move aside.

Both drew their weapons, exchanged glances, and counted down from three before Roan kicked the door open and shouted, "FBI!"

Roan and Mona swept through each room, guns ready, confirming the apartment was empty.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

They holstered their pistols and walked gravely into the living room.

The room was small, with a TV and a sofa.

But the left side of the yellow-brown sofa was stained black by dried, dark red blood.

"What happened here?" Mona surveyed the scene, brows furrowed. Though there was blood, the living room was otherwise tidy—not the aftermath of a homicide.

Roan checked the bedrooms. The parents’ and daughter’s wardrobes were neatly packed, beds clean.

But the grandparents’ room was messy, obviously not tidied. The wardrobe was a jumble of clothes pulled out and scattered.

Opening the fridge in the kitchen, Roan found no perishable food, only items that could be stored long-term.

"Looks like Elken planned to go with his wife to take their daughter to college," Roan observed. He returned to the living room, arms folded, pondering aloud. "The grandparents stayed to look after the house. Since it’s difficult for them to go out for groceries, Elken left plenty of food."

Mona nodded; after her own observations she agreed. Yet she remained puzzled by the bloodstains on the sofa.

"I don’t know," Roan shook his head. The first thing he thought of was calling the forensic unit to examine the scene, but since this was a covert operation with Mona, that might not be appropriate.

"Let’s check the street surveillance from the car, see where Elken’s vehicle went," Roan said after a long silence. He’d searched the apartment, but found no clues.

"We didn’t see Elken’s car downstairs, so it was probably driven away by the family."

"OK." Mona nodded, rising to leave with Roan.

Just as they stepped out, Roan was fixing the door when the elevator opened down the hall and two young white men emerged.

Seeing Roan in full gear and Mona’s vest emblazoned with "FBI" in white letters, the two men exchanged glances and headed for the stairwell.

Roan, having just secured the door, noticed this, slipped out his Glock 18, shielding Mona, and called out loudly, "Gentlemen, hold on—"

The next second, as they reached the stairwell, the two men drew their guns and fired blindly toward Roan and Mona.

As they reached inside their jackets, Roan’s eyes flashed coldly. He shoved Mona back into Elken’s apartment and fired, hitting the leftmost man squarely in the back.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

"Ah—"

"Fuck!"

Three shots rang out. Roan dodged into the room unscathed.

One man screamed and toppled headfirst down the stairs. The other cursed and rushed to help his companion, trying to flee.

"Mona, are you alright?" Mona quickly scrambled up from where Roan had pushed her, her face anxious. Roan turned and grinned, "I’m fine! Don’t worry."

In that split second, Roan felt his reaction time had improved slightly, though not as quick as in the basement.

Without hesitation, Roan took up his Glock 18 in a combat stance and charged out.

Mona followed, but was stunned: despite leaving just two seconds after Roan, he was already at the end of the corridor.

"Damn!" Mona cursed inwardly. "How is Roan so fast?"

Unaware of Mona’s thoughts, Roan reached the stairwell and hurled a flashbang around the corner.

Boom!

The explosion blinded the two men, their ears ringing and heads spinning.

Roan smirked, raised his Glock 18, and fired at their arms without hesitation.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Ah—"

The bullets struck their arms, causing their guns to drop. They tried to retrieve them, but Roan was already upon them.

A gust of force struck; both men were punched in the face, their noses shattered, and they fell backwards.

By the time Mona arrived, gun in hand, Roan had already cuffed the two men together.

Mona muttered, "Fuck!"

The author is traveling for work today and about to board the plane. For the next week or so, updates will be at 8 PM; after the trip, they’ll return to noon. Apologies!

June 3, 2023

(End of chapter)