People are scared in America, my uncle is Dante

"cough……"

McLean gave a wry smile, led Suren to his private office, and drew the blinds.

He sighed heavily:

"Stop making fun of me."

"Los Santos has been like a haunted place lately, with all sorts of bizarre murders happening one after another, but we can't even catch a glimpse of the killer."

McLean stared intently at Suren and asked tentatively,

"Could you give me a heads-up, is something big going to happen in this city? At least let me prepare in advance."

Suren was slightly taken aback. The number of bizarre deaths was increasing?

It seems that Mammon, who is in hell, is about to descend upon us.

However, these are matters beyond the reach of ordinary police officers; telling McLean would only harm him.

Some things are better left unseen.

"You'd better not ask about these trivial matters, you know what I mean."

Suren gathered her thoughts and got straight to the point, "Was you involved in what happened at the movie theater a few days ago?"

McKlain's expression shifted: "You're here for that girl named Carrie too?"

"What was the condition of the deceased?" Suren did not deny it.

"deceased……"

McLean paused for a moment, pondered, and then said...

"The deceased was a high school student with a history of drug addiction; his father was a doctor at a mental hospital..."

He paused, then said hesitantly, "The deceased's mother... is somewhat neurotic, and speaks incoherently. It's probably due to excessive grief over her son's death."

He paused, took a sip of coffee, and continued, "Right now, they're relentlessly pursuing that girl, hoping to extort money from her."

"However, I remember that girl was bailed out a few days ago, could it be...?"

McLean looked at Suren, the meaning of his words couldn't be clearer.

Suren nodded: "My friend bailed me out, and she has already paid a sum of money in compensation."

"I know."

McLean shrugged and said helplessly, "There are no recordings or witnesses for these private transactions."

"The couple seemed determined to play dumb, and there was nothing we could do about it."

"Can you arrange a meeting for me?" Suren asked in a flat tone.

As McLean heard the other person's tone gradually turn cold, he felt a chill run down his spine.

He knew all too well the methods of the young man before him.

In the past, it was considered a miracle if the thugs sent in by the other side were still alive.

Those who are unlucky have to rely on their own efforts as forensic doctors.

"Sulen, don't be impulsive."

McLean quickly reassured them, "I can arrange for you to meet at a secluded coffee shop on the outskirts of town so you can talk privately."

He paused, then leaned closer. "Make sure it's clean. Leave the rest to me."

"However, you'd better deal with this as soon as possible. It seems someone higher up has noticed something strange about this girl lately."

Thanks.

Suren nodded.

After finishing their business, he suddenly remembered something and asked, "By the way, there's someone named Angela, you should know her, right?"

"Angela Dawson?"

McLean nodded. "Of course. Her sister committed suicide by jumping off a building a while ago, and she hasn't been able to accept it. She's been frantically investigating the matter."

He stroked his chin, then said with a sudden realization, "Come to think of it, I specifically recommended your firm to her. What, she actually came knocking on our door?"

I guess so.

Suren didn't want to explain and threw the empty paper cup into the trash can.

"I'm gone."

……

On the outskirts of Los Santos, there is a restaurant famous for its cherry pie.

In today's rapidly evolving technological world, this restaurant still retains the classic black and white floor tiles and car-shaped ordering counters from the last century.

This old-fashioned style, out of place in the bustling Los Santos, has become a refuge for many disillusioned young people.

In the red booth by the window, Steve rubbed his face with both hands and sighed deeply.

Within just a few months, the house seemed to be cursed by the devil.

First, his eccentric mother-in-law passed away, followed by the tragic accidental death of his youngest daughter.

Now, the only son left in the family is so dead that even his body cannot be pieced together.

The successive losses of loved ones left this middle-aged man utterly exhausted.

Steve glanced wearily at his wife sitting beside him—

Annie was nervously biting her nails, muttering something under her breath.

His eccentric wife felt like a stranger to him.

Steve knew very well that the whole thing stemmed from his good-for-nothing son.

A man dressed as a ghost sneaks into the women's restroom to play a prank. If he encounters someone with a short temper, he deserves to be beaten to death.

However, he never expected to encounter someone with such a fiery temper.

His original plan was to receive a substantial compensation payment and handle the aftermath discreetly.

The family is already well-off. Once this painful period passes, my wife and I will adopt a child, and our lives will eventually get back on track.

What he couldn't understand was why his wife, Annie, insisted on clinging to the other party like a greedy street thug, endlessly demanding compensation.

Fortunately, news came from the police station yesterday that the other party's representative was willing to come forward and handle the matter today.

Steve clenched his fists silently; he had to end this suffocating farce as soon as possible.

"Ring ring—"

The shop door was pushed open, and the melodious sound of wind chimes interrupted Steve's thoughts.

He looked up and saw a young man in a trench coat push open the door and enter. After smiling and ordering a glass of iced water at the front desk, he walked straight toward their table.

Suren stopped outside the booth and calmly watched the couple.

The man looked gaunt and exhausted, while the woman appeared somewhat deranged.

Looking like this, he's another poor person whose life has tormented him to the point of being unrecognizable. No wonder he keeps clinging to the compensation money.

However, he still planned to try to communicate with the other party first. If the other party was uncooperative, he naturally knew a little about martial arts.

As soon as Suren sat down, she noticed something was amiss.

The woman opposite me emanated a rotten stench, as if she were tainted by something unclean.

Even if the smell was extremely faint, Suren, who dealt with these things year-round, would never mistake it for something else—

The smell of the devil.

He remained expressionless, initially believing it to be just a routine extortion attempt.

Now it seems that this matter may not be as simple as I originally thought.

While Suren was observing them, Steve was also secretly observing them.

This agent is so young; her skin is firm and without a single wrinkle.

He looks like a high school student who hasn't graduated yet.

Steve keenly noticed the coldness that flashed in the other person's eyes when he sat down.

Is it impatience? Or is it a deliberate display to pressure oneself?

As a doctor who deals with mental patients year-round, he naturally understands some micro-expressions and psychology.

"Mr. Steve, Ms. Anne?"

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

Suren placed his hands on the table, his expression calm.

Steve forced a smile, extended his hand, and politely said, "Hello, I'm Steve, this is my..."

He paused, looked at the unkempt woman beside him, sighed, and said, "My wife, Anne."

"Are you that girl's agent?"