Chapter 106: Resolving the Witness Problem

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Mona, who had watched the entire scene unfold from the sidelines, pressed a hand to her forehead in speechless exasperation. She paused the surveillance footage on her computer, then opened the car door and stepped out.

"Roan, I think if you ever have the time, you might want to go have a chat with a psychologist."

The two crossed the street and walked straight toward the small community. Mona stepped up beside Roan and spoke in a low voice:

"If you're worried that seeing an FBI in-house psychologist might make your superiors concerned about your mental state and affect your career, I can introduce you to a therapist I absolutely trust. She's a wonderful person, highly professional... I'm not lying to you. When I was little, she really did help me a great deal."

Hearing Mona bring up her own childhood to prove she wasn't deceiving him, Roan felt genuinely pleased. At the very least, it showed that Mona truly cared about him and sincerely wanted to help.

But...

"Mona, I really don't have any psychological issues."

Roan shook his head in exasperation:

"I'm just a little concerned about having enough firepower, paying attention to details, wanting to defeat the enemy as quickly as possible, and keeping both myself and my teammates from getting hurt by the enemy. Best of all, to nip danger in the bud. Can any of that really be called a psychological problem?"

Mona's lips twitched slightly at his words:

"This... doesn't count?"

Weren't these all signs of a lack of security?

"Of course not!" Roan waved his hand grandly. This was called paying attention to one's own life and taking responsibility for one's own safety.

Before Mona could continue, Roan had already led her to the "Self-Management Community Association" in the neighborhood.

America is a free country, and the different rules born of the wealth gap are on full display in every aspect of daily life.

Take community security, for example.

In wealthy districts, there are security guards and police patrols on a regular schedule.

In upscale communities, security is less prevalent and patrols are less frequent, but at least they still exist.

In ordinary communities, most have no security at all, and police only occasionally pass by during their rounds.

Residents living in such communities usually band together to form a "Self-Management Association" to help one another out.

As for the remaining kind of trash communities... well, let's just say America is a free country. Free in life, and free in death.

"Hello, my name is Martin, and this is Catherine."

After a brief inquiry, Roan located the person on duty for the community's Self-Management Association. A white old man who was absolutely no younger than fifty.

After briefly introducing his own name and Mona's, Roan flashed a sunny smile at the old man:

"I heard there's a house for rent in this community. Could you take us to see it?"

"Rent? Which one?"

Hearing Roan's words, the old white man, Eric, didn't overthink it. He simply looked up and asked.

Sometimes, the community Self-Management Association also took on some intermediary duties. If a landlord was away on business, they would help receive prospective tenants on the landlord's behalf, collecting a small fee afterward.

But there was a catch: the association could only receive guests; they couldn't sign a contract directly with the tenant. The contract had to be signed between the landlord and the tenant. Unless the landlord gave permission and granted authority to a specific person in the association.

Roan gave the room number that Holk had rented some time ago. The old white man, Eric, flipped through a thick notebook and, after a long moment, nodded:

"That's right, that room hasn't been rented out yet. I can take you to see it right now."

"Thank you."

Seeing the warm smile on Roan's face, Eric felt quite pleased.

As they chatted while climbing the stairs, Roan used a bit of conversational charm, flattering Eric until the old man was grinning from ear to ear.

So when Roan entered the room and carefully observed the specific details inside, Eric, standing at the door waiting, pondered for a long while. Finally, he walked over to Roan and spoke earnestly:

"How about this, kids—why don't you rent a different room? This one might not be suitable for you."

Seeing the puzzled expressions on Roan and Mona's faces, Eric fell silent for a moment, then beckoned for Roan to lean down.

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"The previous tenant of this room was a gay man. I saw him bringing other men back here."

Roan, who knew that the previous tenant of this room was Holk, fell silent upon hearing Eric's words.

The next second, something suddenly struck Roan. His pupils contracted sharply, and he asked in a low voice:

"Eric, is there a bar near this community that people like them would go to?"

"There is one, actually. Not far from here."

Eric nodded. Noticing the change in Roan's expression, he assumed the man had been startled by his own words and was about to say more, but Roan reached out and shook his hand:

"Thank you, Eric. I'm very grateful for your information."

"You're welcome."

Eric shook his head and was about to continue speaking, but Roan expressed his thanks a few more times, then grabbed Mona's hand and sprinted away from the place at full speed.

"Roan, what's going on?" Mona looked completely bewildered, not understanding why Roan was in such a hurry. "Aren't we going to check the warehouse Holk rented?"

"No need. I just realized that the room Holk rented was cleaned with extraordinary care—not even a single hair was left behind. It's clear that Isaac and Holk meticulously cleaned up the scene."

Roan shook his head. Under these circumstances, the warehouse Holk had rented was likely thoroughly cleaned by the two of them as well.

"Alright." Mona nodded after a few seconds of silence, then asked, "So where do we go next?"

The two had already run back to the SUV by then.

"Eric's words just now inspired me, and they also reminded me of a problem that all of us overlooked before."

Seeing the questioning look on Mona's face, Roan spoke gravely:

"We've always assumed that the person who scouted out the bank before the crime was probably a female prostitute. But why couldn't it have been a male prostitute?"

"Male prostitute?"

Hearing this unusual term, Mona was momentarily stunned, then suddenly slapped her forehead:

"That's right! Eric just said that Holk is a gay man!"

Realizing this, Mona immediately turned her gaze to the computer. Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she began combing through the surveillance footage from before the four previous robberies, looking for men who appeared on camera.

Roan didn't just sit around waiting either. He stepped on the SUV's accelerator and drove toward the bar Eric had mentioned.

The bar wasn't too far from the community—only a few blocks away. After arriving, Roan and Mona got out of the car together and were about to push the door open.

"Sorry, ma'am."

The door had barely been pushed halfway open when a burly Black security guard stepped out, raising a hand to block Mona: "This place might not be suitable for a woman to enter."

Mona didn't waste words. She simply pulled out the FBI's gold badge and said coldly:

"FBI."

The Black security guard froze for a moment, then silently stepped aside.

"Don't just stand there." Roan patted the man's arm with a grin. "Take us to your boss."

The Black security guard was about to say something, but when he saw Roan also produce a gold badge, he clicked his tongue, turned to open the inner door, and led the two toward the manager's office in the back of the bar.

Following behind the Black security guard, Mona looked around with a blank expression, noting that a gay bar didn't seem all that special. The décor was much the same as any ordinary bar.

She was just about to say something to Roan when she suddenly noticed him grin, step away from her, and head toward the bar counter.

"Hello."

Roan walked up to a white man with short hair, greeted him, and smiled.

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"You look very familiar to me."

"Come on."

Hearing Roan's words, Chad rolled his eyes:

"That pickup line is way too cliché."

"No, I'm not hitting on you. I'm just stating a fact."

Roan shook his head. Meanwhile, Mona, having gotten a clear look at Chad's face, felt her pupils tighten. She too silently walked over to the bar counter.

Before Chad could wonder why a woman was here, Roan pulled out the FBI gold badge and said with a sly smile:

"Did you happen to visit a bank last month to handle some business?"

Seeing Roan's movement and hearing his words, Chad's body went rigid instantly. Sweat appeared on his forehead in an instant.

The next second, Chad hurled the glass on the bar counter at Roan with all his might, then turned and ran.

The moment the glass was thrown, Roan dodged to the left, used the momentum to raise his right leg, and drove a powerful kick into Chad's back.

Bang!

The next second, under the stunned gaze of everyone in the bar, Chad flew through the air. After smashing through several tables, he slammed heavily onto the bar's floor.

"Hiss—"

"WTF?!"

"Holy shit!"

Watching Chad twitch his legs where he lay on the floor, then go still, the entire bar filled with sharp intakes of breath. Everyone looked at Roan as if they'd seen a ghost.

Mona, too, stared at Roan with utter astonishment.

Since when had his strength become this terrifying?

Once the shock wore off, several men suddenly looked at Roan with sparkling eyes.

Roan: "..."

—

Three hours later. Investigation Team Five's office area.

"Chad spilled everything and agreed to testify in court. We've got a witness now."

Amid the delighted gazes of the team, Roan and Mona walked out of the interrogation room with smiles, handing out Chad's confession statement to everyone:

"Chad admitted to helping Holk scout out the bank. But he claims he only went once, and that he had nothing to do with the other three cases.

So next, we still need to find the other three people who helped Holk scout the banks, as well as apprehend Holk and Isaac."

"Nice work!"

August gave the interrogation record a brief once-over, then slapped Roan hard on the shoulder with a hearty laugh:

"Finding the other scouts is small potatoes from here on out!"

With that, before Roan could react, August turned his gaze to Lacey and Ryder, and said sternly:

"You two will take an FBI plane to California tomorrow. Liaise with the local SWAT and make sure you bring Isaac and Holk back!"

"Yes, sir!"

After quickly assigning a few more tasks, August waved his hand grandly:

"As for what I promised you all—I meant every word!

After this case is wrapped up, everyone's bonus next week gets doubled!

Also, I'll put in a request with the higher-ups for a day off for all of you!"

Hearing this, the eyes of everyone on Investigation Team Five lit up instantly.

"Roan, Verinice is looking for you."

(End of chapter)