American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

Chapter 209 The Forgotten Clues
Kate pursed her lips and didn't respond immediately. The two of them stood at the door of the apartment building, the night breeze blowing through, making the atmosphere slightly quieter.

"Do you always think that?" Kate whispered, her voice much softer than usual. "Do you always expect the worst from everything?"

"This isn't an idea; it's experience." Lynn's tone didn't fluctuate much, but it was filled with an undeniable coldness. "When you've seen enough danger and betrayal, you'll know that any relaxation can be fatal."

Kate looked at him, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes. She knew that what Lin En said made sense, but she also knew how tiring and lonely such a life would make people.

"Maybe you're right." Kate said softly, but then the corners of her mouth raised slightly, "But sometimes, relaxing a little may not be a bad thing."

Lynn's eyes fell on her face, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just nodded, "Go back and make sure the door is locked."

"Thank you for taking me back." Kate smiled slightly and reached out to open the apartment door, but before stepping in, she suddenly turned back to look at Lin En, "Lynn."

"what?"

"If there's ever a day when you need to relax," Kate's voice was soft, yet carried a meaningful frankness. "You know how to find me."

Lynn was slightly stunned, but before she could answer, Kate had already turned and walked into the building, closing the door gently, leaving only her back.

Lynn stood at the door, staring at it quietly as it closed. His brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed. He didn't know what Kate meant by that remark; perhaps it was just a casual remark, but it planted a seed in his mind, something that would linger.

The next evening, after a long day of investigation, Lin En called Kate for the first time. He didn't intend to explain much, just said, "I'm near your house and wanted to talk."

Kate was obviously a little surprised at first, but there was a subtle hint of lightness in the voice on the other end of the phone. "Okay, come up then. But don't expect me to treat you to any fancy dinner."

Lynn hung up the phone and walked up to Kate's apartment building. The dust on the red brick walls was particularly obvious in the dim light. Lynn noticed that Kate's apartment door had a new lock compared to last night, which made him nod slightly.

When the door opened, Kate, wearing a loose dark grey sweater and holding a cup of hot tea, leaned against the door frame and looked at him. "You are very direct, Agent Lynn. Please come in."

Lynn walked into the house and looked around. Kate's apartment was not big, but it was warmly decorated. There were several black and white photos hanging on the wall, and one of them caught Lynn's attention - it was a photo of a family of three. A little blonde girl stood between two adults, smiling brightly.

Kate followed his gaze and gently put down her teacup. "That's a picture of me when I was a child."

"Your family?" Lynn asked, not taking her eyes off the photo.

"Well, my parents." Kate answered lightly, but Lynn caught a hint of imperceptible emotion in her tone.

He didn't ask any further questions, but turned around and sat on the sofa. "You don't seem like the kind of person who would let others into his home casually."

Kate smiled and handed him the cup. "You're not a casual person, are you?"

Lin En took the teacup and took a sip. The warmth of the tea made his nerves, which had been tense all day, relax a little.

"That photo..." Lin En said, with a hint of tentativeness in his tone, "It seems that you have a good relationship with your family."

Kate leaned on the other side of the sofa, her eyes drifting out the window. "Yeah, it was really good back then."

Lynn was silent for a moment, knowing she had more to say but it would take time.

"Actually, this is one of the reasons why I became a reporter." Kate finally spoke, her voice becoming soft and low.

Lynn looked up at her, waiting for her to continue.

"When I was a child, our family was not rich, but we were happy. My father was a high school teacher and my mother was a community volunteer. That photo was taken on my ninth birthday, when we had just moved to a new city. Everything looked beautiful." Kate said softly, with a nostalgic smile on her lips.

"But things changed." She paused, a hint of anger in her voice. "One day, my father died in a car accident. But the newspaper reported that he was driving under the influence and even said that he might have been connected to some kind of criminal organization. These were completely false, just stories made up by those reporters to attract readers."

Lin En frowned, "Didn't anyone clarify this for you?"

"Who cares?" Kate's smile was tinged with self-mockery. "The newspapers have sold, and public opinion has been determined. Who cares about the truth? We tried to clarify, but those media outlets refused to retract their reports. To protect me, my mother repeatedly sought help from lawyers and even appeared on TV to defend my father, but it was all in vain. Once that label is put on, it can never be removed."

She stopped talking and took a sip of tea, as if using this brief action to calm herself down.

"From then on, I vowed that if I could enter this industry one day, I would never be a reporter who distorted the facts. I would expose the truth and let people know that news is not just headlines and stories, it also affects real people behind the scenes." Kate looked up at Lynn with a firm and complex emotion in her eyes.

Lin En listened quietly, his own past unconsciously emerging in his mind. He understood this feeling: the pain of losing a loved one, coupled with society's misunderstanding, was a double wound. He knew that such experiences would shape a person, making her stronger and more stern.

"So," Lynn began, her tone less cold and more gentle, "is this why you're always willing to take risks, even to the point of putting yourself in danger?"

"That's about right." Kate chuckled, but there was a hint of fatigue in her smile. "Maybe it's a form of compensation. I think if I can reveal some real truth, even just once, it can be considered a small way of making up for the injustices I suffered as a child."

Lynn nodded, looking down at the teacup in his hand. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know how to start. He rarely faced emotional issues like this, especially with someone as volatile as Kate.

"What about you?" Kate suddenly asked, her tone more relaxed, but her eyes were serious. "What made you choose the FBI? I guess it's not just because you are good at catching bad guys."

Lynn smiled slightly, but there was a hint of bitterness in her smile. "Maybe it's the same as you, out of a sense of responsibility. I lost my parents when I was a child, and George adopted me. He's a policeman, and I've watched him work since I was a child. I always feel that upholding justice is something...someone must do."

Kate nodded. "So you chose this path, even though it leaves you with almost no time to yourself."

"I'm used to it." Lin En's tone was calm, but there was a hint of complicated emotions in his eyes.

Kate looked at him and suddenly smiled. "You know what, Lynn? You look like a man wearing armor, but actually, I think deep down you're a person who longs for real emotions more than anyone else."

Lin En was stunned for a moment, then shook his head, "You are analyzing me again."

"Occupational disease." Kate said softly, with a hint of ridicule in her eyes.

The room fell into a brief silence, but it didn't seem awkward, instead it was filled with a subtle calm. The wind outside the window gently tapped the glass, and the light cast a warm shadow between the two of them.

"Thank you for telling me this," Lynn finally spoke, her voice low and sincere.

Kate looked up at him and smiled slightly, "I think if it were you, you might understand."

Lynn didn't answer, but his eyes told Kate that he did understand. They might be two completely different people, but their heavy pasts created an indescribable resonance between them.

As Lynn stood up to leave, Kate walked to the door and leaned against the door frame to look at him, "Lynn."

"What?" "Next time you come, I'll prepare dinner." Kate said with a smile, her tone relaxed.

Lynn raised an eyebrow, "Are you inviting me or giving me an order?"

"It's up to you." Kate waved at him with a meaningful light in her eyes.

Lynn sat in the archives room at FBI headquarters, surrounded by heavy filing cabinets and paper files. A dim light streamed down from overhead. On the desk lay an old file with the words "Miller, Carl Car Accident Case" printed on the cover.

He ran his fingertips across the cover of the file, pausing briefly before opening it. The document exuded a stale smell, and the edges of the paper had yellowed, but the handwriting was still clear. The time and location of the accident, witness accounts, and the investigation report were all neatly arranged.

Lynn's eyes darted across the report. He flicked through the pages, unwilling to miss a single detail. He wasn't good at handling personal matters, but he knew Kate's past was an indelible pain for her. And he had a vague feeling that this case might hold some truth that Kate didn't yet know.

"Miller, Carl." Lynn whispered the name again, as if trying to etch it into his mind. He then quickly scanned the preliminary description of the case.

— "On July 2003, 7, Carl Miller was driving an older blue Buick when it collided with a truck at an intersection in Brooklyn. He died instantly."

His brow furrowed slightly, a feeling that something was missing from this seemingly simple description. Turning the pages, he soon came across photos of the accident scene: the blue Buick was almost completely crushed, while the truck had only minor damage to its front bumper. In the photo, the driver's blood smeared the windshield, a scene of horrific chaos.

"The truck driver's confession..." Lin En muttered softly, his fingers turning to the relevant records.

The truck driver, Irvin Clark, claimed he saw the Buick run a red light at high speed without any sign of slowing down. The truck braked, but it was too late to avoid the vehicle.

Lin En stared at the confession, his brow furrowing even more. He felt something was amiss, but couldn't put his finger on it. He continued to flip through the pages until a breathalyzer test report caught his eye.

— "Carl Miller's blood alcohol content: 0.12%."

Lin En stared at the text, feeling an uneasy premonition. His intuition told him that this alcohol report might be the key to the problem.

"How's your reading of the file?" A deep voice came from behind, bringing Lin En back to his senses.

He turned around and saw Hans standing at the door of the archive room, holding a cup of coffee in his hand and looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Since when did you become interested in old cases?" Hans walked in, put his coffee on the table, and glanced casually at the documents. "Car accident? That's not like you, Lynn."

"Personal reasons." Lynn didn't explain much, but continued to look through the files.

Hans raised an eyebrow, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but he didn't press the issue. He pulled out a chair and sat down, staring at the documents in Lynn's hand. "So, what's so special about this case?"

"It looks simple, but it's actually very strange." Lin En pointed to the breathalyzer test report. "Carl Miller is an ordinary high school teacher who lives a simple life and has almost no criminal record. But the report says that he was driving drunk and speeding at the time of the accident."

"Perhaps he had a special reason that night?" Hans shrugged. "We've seen too many similar situations. Anyone can suddenly lose control."

"The problem is..." Lin En pointed at the truck driver's confession. "This driver's testimony is too perfect. He accurately described the entire accident, but according to the scene photos, the impact position of the Buick shows that the truck was the main direct force of the collision. It wasn't Carl Miller who ran a red light, but the truck clearly accelerated and hit the Buick."

Hans's expression grew more serious. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you think the truck driver is lying?"

"I'm not sure yet," Lynn murmured, his eyes still fixed on the report. "But you know what makes me most suspicious? This breathalyzer report doesn't match any of the evidence at the scene."

"Why doesn't it match?"

"If he was truly driving under the influence, why didn't the vehicle show any signs of erratic driving? And look at the location of the accident—a small, two-lane road. Logically, there's no reason for him to be speeding there." Lin En raised his head, a cold glint in his eyes. "Furthermore, this report comes from a private testing agency, not an official forensic department."

Hans raised his eyebrows, obviously realizing the seriousness of the problem. "You mean, someone might have fabricated the evidence?"

"This is just speculation." Lin En's voice was low and firm. "But this report is too suspicious. I need more information."

"What are you going to do next?"

"Check the truck driver's background to see if he has any connections to any forces. Also, I want to check with the officer in charge of the case." Lin En closed the file, his eyes cold. "If this was truly a deliberate incident, I will uncover the truth."

The next day, Lynn retrieved the file of truck driver Alvin Clark from the FBI internal database. Surprisingly, Clark filed for bankruptcy a year after the accident and then disappeared without leaving any trace.

"What a coincidence," Lynn muttered to himself as he sat in his office. He listed Clark's address, phone number, and all the relevant records, only to find that the information was out of date.

He then retrieved the records of the police officer who was in charge of the car accident at the time. The files showed that the case was handled by an old police officer named Frank Cowles, but Lynn soon discovered that Cowles applied for early retirement within three months of the accident, citing "health reasons."

"Two key figures disappeared so cleanly?" Lin En rubbed his brows, feeling more and more that there was something fishy behind this case.

He made a call, and soon, Hans' voice came from the other end, "What did you find out?"

"The truck driver disappeared, and the officer in charge of the case retired early," Lin En replied briefly. "But I have a feeling there might be some external interference behind these people."

"Do you need me to send someone to check it out?" Hans asked.

"No." Lin En said in a deep voice, "I'll handle this matter myself for now. Too much movement might alert the enemy."

After hanging up the phone, Lin En stared at the old photo of the truck driver on the computer screen, pondered for a few seconds, then stood up and left the office. He knew that if he wanted to find the truth, he had to go deep into the scene and re-investigate the key locations of that year.

Late that night, Lynn drove to the intersection where the accident occurred. Despite the passage of time, the area hadn't changed much. The streets were still narrow, lined with a few old grocery stores and restaurants, and occasionally dim streetlights could be seen.

He stood at the intersection, closed his eyes, and tried to recreate the scene in his mind: the truck approaching from the north, the Buick entering from the east, and the two vehicles collided in the middle of the intersection. Witness testimony suggested the truck braked prematurely, but combined with photos, the angle and force of the collision on the Buick more closely resembled the truck's sudden acceleration.

"There's not enough room for the truck driver to brake here," Lin En whispered. He stood there, scanning every detail of the intersection, trying to find forgotten clues.

At this moment, his eyes fell on an old surveillance camera. It was hung on the side of the street. Although it was obviously abandoned, Lin En knew that the data stored by this camera might be stored in an archive or somewhere else.

"Maybe this is the breakthrough." Lin En murmured softly, then turned and left.

He didn't know what he would find, but he knew that he had already embarked on the path to the truth and would never turn back.

After leaving the accident scene, Lin En immediately contacted the FBI's technical department. He needed someone to track down the recordings from the surveillance camera installed at the accident site. Although many years had passed, he knew that some data, even if stored in the corners of archives, might not be completely lost.

(End of this chapter)