North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 616 - 345 Key Clue_1

"The forensics team is here, and Old Hunter came with them."

As Dean paced back and forth in the cellar, Lawrence ran down to give him the update.

"Old Hunter too?"

Dean nodded and followed Lawrence upstairs. It must have been Harry who called Old Hunter. Thinking it inconvenient to discuss Daisy's matter over the phone, Old Hunter chose to come with the forensics team and talk face-to-face.

Holz, from the forensics team, was also present, sporting heavy dark circles under his eyes—clear evidence of a lack of rest.

"Hey, Dean," Holz greeted them with little energy. "God, my colleagues and I just pulled an all-nighter performing autopsies on the more than twenty bodies found in that house earlier. Don't tell me there's a big scene here too."

His tone carried a hint of helplessness.

Was it an illusion? Holz felt that Dean might carry some mysterious BUFF; wherever he went, a major case would emerge. Whenever that guy came back, he'd be swamped.

Dean shrugged. "Only five people died this time. The killer's methods are quite incredible; I can't quite figure them out."

"Oh?"

Holz's interest was piqued. He yawned. With no time for idle chat with Dean, he quickly confirmed the location of the deaths and then, with his colleagues carrying their cases, hurried into the villa's cellar.

With Holz and his team gone, Dean and Lawrence's gaze turned to Old Hunter's worried face.

"What's the situation with Daisy?"

"Who took Daisy?"

The two asked in unison.

Old Hunter sighed, sat casually on the villa's steps, lit a cigarette, and puffed away for a while before he began to explain, "This matter is troublesome. Do you know who took Daisy?"

Lawrence's fleshy jowls quivered. "Stop beating around the bush! Old Hunter, this makes my hands itch. If we knew, why would we be asking you?"

Upon hearing this, Dean's eyes narrowed. "One of our own?"

After giving Lawrence a disdainful look, Old Hunter nodded to Dean. "After receiving Harry's call, I immediately contacted the precinct captain. He told me that the people who took Daisy are from the city's Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) team."

"Counter-terrorism?"

"What did Daisy do to merit deploying them? Don't tell me she got involved in some kind of terrorist attack!"

Lawrence was dumbfounded. The last time he saw SWAT in action was during the Lincoln Farm operation, a gunfight involving over a hundred people, where many rockets had even been fired—a battle so fierce it could have been called a small-scale war.

What on earth did Daisy do?

Dean also frowned at this. He knew a bit more than Lawrence. SWAT is actually under the FBI, and jurisdiction over Los Angeles's SWAT team strictly belongs to the LA FBI office's chief—that new chief whom Dean had sent to the hospital before. But there was a problem. The guy was in the hospital. Aside from Cheston En, most of the staff from the LA FBI office had also basically died in the explosion attack by Lucifer's Twin Hound Elders. So who was the commander behind this SWAT deployment?

Looking at Old Hunter's grave expression, Dean voiced his confusion.

Old Hunter flicked his cigarette butt away and sighed again. "I'd like to know too. But after I reported the incident by phone, do you know what the commissioner replied?"

His dark face drooping, he imitated the voice on the other end of the call, "'Sorry, Captain Hunter, your clearance is too low to be informed about the case details.'" He then scoffed, "Pfft! That bitch of a secretary didn't give a damn about a captain like me and wouldn't even say where they took Daisy."

At this, Lawrence was completely baffled. He wasn't afraid of Daisy being taken. After all, Daisy was a member of the police union. If she got into trouble without any clear reason, the entire Los Angeles Police Department, under public pressure, would choose to investigate thoroughly.

The problem was, the people who took Daisy were their own. And they didn't know where she'd been taken. This left them feeling powerless.

Agitated, Lawrence punched a nearby stone pillar. "Fuck! Here we are working our asses off on the case, and those old dogs are working against us behind our backs. I really want to flip a table!"

Dean patted the angry Lawrence on the shoulder, consoling him, "At least this means the commissioner should know the details of Daisy's situation. If we want to save her, we need to solve this case even faster."

The SWAT team is, in name, under the FBI's jurisdiction. If they solved the case sooner, they could also have the new FBI chief owe them a favor, prompting his intervention in Daisy's arrest.

Understanding the implications in Dean's words, Lawrence nodded reluctantly. His anger wasn't due to a deep bond with Daisy, but purely out of loyalty to a long-time colleague.

As for Dean's less hurried demeanor, it wasn't that he lacked loyalty; it was because, secretly, he had a certain connection with Hank, the newly appointed Deputy Chief of Detectives, through Amon. Even if Kames, the new FBI chief, didn't show any courtesy, Dean could later use his connection with Deputy Chief Hank to find out what happened to Daisy.

The key now was to solve the case.

He had an intuition. The brutal serial killings were not over yet!

With his piece said, Old Hunter left in a hurry.

Dean and Lawrence, too, regained their composure and returned to the cellar.

While Dean and Lawrence had been talking with Old Hunter, Holz and his colleagues had already cordoned off the cellar with police tape, divided the tasks, and begun surveying the scene.