North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 70 - 69 Deception_1

He left the room.

Dean made a call to Malago first, asking him to arrange for a few people to keep an eye on Marina and then requested two unregistered handguns.

Thanks to their previous cooperation, Malago soon arrived with his men and tossed a small bag into Dean’s hand. "Here, take these two little toys. Homemade. Fresh off the line, never used. Call me if there’s any issue."

He didn’t even ask what Dean needed the guns for.

"Thanks, I owe you one."

After Dean checked the handguns and bullets, ensuring everything was fine, he drove with Harry to the address Marina had provided.

It was a remote motor inn about thirty miles outside the small town of Del Rio.

These kinds of places were a characteristic feature of the United States. Especially in desolate, uninhabited areas, some people would set up such places by the roadside, offering lodging, food, car repair, and even fueling services—all in one.

In many horror movies, these places often doubled as dens for psychopaths in disguise. All they needed to do was scatter some caltrops on the road in front of the motel, and the unlucky souls would come knocking.

So, in this country, if you went on a long trip without a gun, what should have been a pleasant road trip might become the last memory your acquaintances had of you.

...

After leaving the small town of Del Rio, Harry finally perked up. "Dean, have you ever felt like the Del Rio Police Station... is like a lawful crime syndicate headquarters?"

"Don’t you think I fit right into this environment?" Dean chuckled. "Harry, my friend, if we can’t change the environment, we need to learn to adapt quickly. Even if you’re just putting on an act, don’t make yourself stick out like a husky in a wolf pack. That’s how you survive longer!"

As he spoke, he gestured with the bag containing the guns.

Harry nodded hesitantly.

That was true. If it weren’t for Dean’s performance convincing Malago that he was one of their own, they would never have been allowed into the station so easily, let alone be handed two handguns now. This was all thanks to Dean.

"Alright, you’re right," Harry said, looking at the landscape outside. "I just feel like you’ve become a different person since you came to Texas."

"That’s because you don’t know me," Dean lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and then said somewhat wistfully, "As soon as I joined the Narcotics Division, I was sent undercover. I nearly died in there. Since then, I’ve grown a lot."

Harry looked at Dean in surprise. "Fuck, now I remember! No wonder Captain Monet said from the start that a ’tough guy’ was joining our squad. We were all fooled by your usual gentle demeanor. Damn it, Dean, it turns out you’re the real vicious wolf here!"

"Haha, yes, so stick with me, and we’ll eat well!" Dean laughed heartily.

Once they had that conversation, the unease that had been subtly nagging Harry finally dissipated. His face relaxed, regaining the mischievous expression he used to wear back in Los Angeles.

...

The wide, ochre dirt road was deserted.

Dean drove at a good speed.

The two men chatted and laughed.

About ten minutes later, an old, standalone, two-story wooden cabin came into view.

Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road and said to Harry, "Take your gun and stay behind this house. If there’s any trouble, come running to back me up immediately!"

"Don’t worry, I’ll be your solid backup, Dean!" Harry nodded emphatically.

Dean dropped Harry off, started the car again, and headed towards the motor inn.

Outside the inn was a flat expanse of land. Only a single vehicle was parked there: an old, dusty, battered grey pickup truck.

When Dean got out of the car, he already had a bad feeling. This pickup was a two-seater, clearly not the car Marina and the others would have driven.

Could it be that Bert and his mother had simply used Marina as cannon fodder to distract the police while they had already slipped away quietly?

Dean glanced around and dismissed this thought. The climate here was dry, and dust billowed easily. If a car had been parked for several days and then suddenly driven off, a clear outline would remain in the dust for a day or two where it had stood. But Dean found no such traces.

Either Marina had lied to him, or Bert and their vehicle had left at least three days ago.

Dean recalled Marina’s face—still baby-cheeked, with a timid, pitiful expression—shook his head, and walked toward the motel entrance.

He hoped Marina hadn’t been deceiving him!

His patience was wearing thin.

There probably weren’t many passersby here. There was no one at the motel’s front desk, but a card on the counter read: "If no one’s at the front desk, I’m probably asleep underneath."

Dean leaned in for a closer look and found a young man, his face still boyish, lying asleep under the counter.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Dean rapped on the counter. "Buddy, wake up!"

"Huh?" The young man was a light sleeper. He opened his eyes, looking disoriented, but smiled when he saw Dean. "Guest, can I help you?"

"Get up. I’m Officer Dean. I have some questions for you!" Dean flashed his detective badge quickly before stowing it away. frёewebnoѵēl.com

He didn’t have jurisdiction here, but that wouldn’t stop him from leveraging his badge. If the young man didn’t cooperate, the gun at Dean’s waist would be quite persuasive.

"Officer?" Panic flickered in the young man’s eyes. "It’s always quiet here. Has something happened nearby?"

"Cut the crap. Have you seen these people?" Dean took out the photo of Marina’s family.

The young man studied the photo for a moment, then hesitantly nodded. "Except for the middle-aged man, the other three did stay here for a few days."

"Where are they now?"

Now that he’d started talking, the young man spoke more easily. "They left. They left yesterday. It was strange, actually. The day before yesterday, they sent the little girl off first, then they came back and stayed one more night. They checked out early yesterday morning."

"Yesterday?" Dean smiled amiably. "Are you sure?"

"Certain—"

THUMP.

Dean grabbed the young man’s hair with his right hand and slammed his head hard onto the counter.

"I hate it when people lie to me. Waste any more of my time, and I’ll make sure you sleep here permanently. Now, tell me, when exactly did they leave?"

When Dean pulled the young man’s head up again, his still-youthful face was a bloody mess from his nose. He stared at Dean in terror, no longer daring to lie. "The day before yesterday, Officer! I swear, they really left the day before yesterday! The little girl gave me five hundred US dollars and told me to say they left yesterday if anyone asked!"

"All three of them together?"

"Yes, all three together! It was that man who was driving!"

"Good. Take me to their room!"

"It’s just out back! The first room!"

Dean dragged the young man by his hair to the back of the motel and kicked open the door to the first room.

Upon entering, he immediately noticed something was wrong.

In the dim light, the color of the floor looked wrong.