Law America, the Devil's Agent

Chapter 85 The Next Victim: Crimes Under the Sun

Link continued walking down the corridor, passing a classroom.

The middle-aged woman at the podium was giving a math lesson. Her voice was flat and stern, like an old, broken tape recorder.

Several boys in the back row were playing around. The nun stopped her explanation, stepped down from the podium, and hit the boys' desks hard with a ruler.

Then she turned to a red-haired boy sitting in the corner of the classroom.

The boy was thin, his school uniform hanging loosely on his shoulders. He had his head down, his textbook open in front of him but he was clearly not looking at it.

His fingers unconsciously traced circles on the table, and he looked like an old schoolbag stuffed into a corner, with a visible gap between him and the other children around him.

The nun walked up to his desk and said in a cold, emotionless tone, "Andrew Paterson, you're daydreaming again."

"Stay after class and redo all of today's practice problems."

Several boys nearby let out suppressed giggles, some exchanging knowing glances, and one of them mouthed something to another—

Judging from the shape of his mouth, it should be "idiot".

Andrew's shoulders shrank even lower amidst the laughter, almost touching the table.

Wei Jing stood at the classroom door for a moment, memorizing the name and the face.

Then he continued walking forward.

Several classes were having physical education lessons on the playground, with students in dark blue sportswear scattered in twos and threes on the track and the grass.

Link quickly noticed an Asian boy standing alone by the iron fence at the edge of the playground, holding a basketball, with no one to play with.

The other children were playing soccer in two teams on the lawn, and no one asked him to join.

His school uniform was the same dark blue as the other children's, but it looked particularly conspicuous on him, not because he was short, but because he always stood a few steps further away from the crowd than the other children.

Link slowed his pace as he walked past the fence, and the boy looked up at him.

He smiled slightly at the boy, who paused for a moment, then quickly looked away and hugged the basketball in his arms even tighter.

After class, Link continued to walk around the campus.

When he circled around to the vicinity of the dormitory area, he saw the red-haired boy again—Andrew.

He was walking alone from the direction of the classroom, holding a sketchbook in his hand, his head down, quickly crossing the playground and heading towards the dormitory.

Behind him followed the boys who had been snickering in the classroom. They kept a distance of about ten steps, exaggeratedly imitating Andrew's walking posture as they walked—shrinking their necks, hunching their backs, and tucking their hands to their sides like a chicken that had been soaked in the rain.

One of the taller boys shouted at a volume that everyone could hear:

Several boys burst into shrill laughter at the same time. Andrew didn't turn around; he quickened his pace, pressing the sketchbook hard against his chest as if trying to bury it, but his shoulders began to tremble slightly.

Link stood in the shadows of the stands, taking in the entire scene. He didn't intervene. It wasn't the right time.

After Andrew disappeared into the dormitory entrance, the corridor was quiet for a moment, then a low murmur of conversation could be heard.

Link stepped aside into the shadows of the corridor and saw a figure in a black robe emerge from the dormitory manager's office.

It's Crawford.

He recognized the square face, the prominent cheekbones, and the small mole under the right eye.

It perfectly matches the archival photos provided by Costello, the portrait identified by Alex, and the ID photo that Benny retrieved from the faculty roster.

Crawford stopped Andrew in the hallway as he came out of the dormitory building.

He bent down, put one hand on Andrew's shoulder, pointed with the other hand to the side door at the end of the corridor leading to the church, and whispered something in Andrew's ear.

The red-haired boy's shoulders trembled slightly beneath the black robe.

He didn't look up at Crawford, but stared at the tips of his shoes, his hands tightly gripping what he was holding.

After Crawford finished speaking, he patted him on the shoulder—a gesture that, to onlookers, might have seemed like encouragement from an elder to a younger person.

But Link noticed that the hand lingered on Andrew's shoulder for a few beats longer than usual, its fingertips gently stroking the boy's thin shoulder blade.

Link's eyes were gloomy.

He seemed to be scrutinizing and hunting his prey.

Then Crawford straightened up, turned and walked towards the church, the hem of his black robe fluttering slightly in the breeze of the corridor.

Link quickly captured the scene with his phone—

A close-up of Crawford's hand on Andrew's shoulder, Andrew's head bowed, and the side door at the end of the corridor leading to the church.

Then he quietly retreated back to the playground and crossed the campus along another path.

As he walked through the garbage dump behind the playground, he saw the Asian boy again.

He was walking out of the equipment room, holding a soccer ball that had just been repaired. A tall boy chased after him, shouted something, and then shoved him hard.

The boy's back slammed against the trash can with a dull metallic sound, and the soccer ball rolled from his hands, falling into a puddle next to him, splashing muddy water onto his school uniform trousers.

The tall boy and several onlookers dispersed, leaving him standing alone next to the trash can, looking down at his soaked sneakers.

He didn't cry, nor did he pick up the ball.

He stood there for a moment, then squatted down, wiped the mud off his shoes with his sleeve, and slowly fished the soccer ball out of the puddle.

Link aimed his phone camera at the scene from the shadows of the stadium stands and pressed the shutter button repeatedly.

Then save the photos in an encrypted folder, along with the corridor photos of Crawford and Andrew, the scanned copy of Alex's painting, and the complaint file provided by Costello.

He did not linger on campus any longer.

Andrew and that Asian boy have had enough; he saw enough on campus today.

He walked back to the administration building along the same route he had come from. As he passed the classroom, he glanced at it from the doorway. Andrew's seat was empty, and the textbook on the desk was still in the same position it had been when he was punished with detention.

When he pushed open the door to the admissions office, Kona was shaking hands with Stern, saying goodbye, with that elegant, warm, and just-right smile on her face.

"Ms. Claire, I hope you will give our school a second consideration."

As you can see, the points I just mentioned are precisely the strengths of our school.

We have a safe environment, beautiful facilities, excellent teachers, and a highly professional team.

I'm confident your child will thrive here.

Upon hearing this, Link couldn't help but lower his head and cover his forehead.

How can someone have such a thick skin?

"————Thank you very much for your patient answers today, Ms. Stern."

My husband and I will seriously consider it after we get back.

If needed, I will contact you again to arrange an interview for Elliott.

The three exchanged a few more pleasantries at the office door, and Stern warmly saw them off to the entrance of the administration building, watching them walk along the stone path toward the school gate.

As the school gate slowly closed behind them, the two turned the street corner—

After confirming that there were no more staff members from Sacred Heart Elementary School around, Kona finally let out a long sigh of relief.

She then removed that aristocratic smile from her face and kneaded it into her palm.

"worn out."

She said, "That Stern was a wind-up fake smile machine."

I asked ten questions, and she gave twelve standard answers. Someone who didn't know better would really think this was some kind of prestigious school.

""

This indirectly shows that they have a lot of experience in handling parent visits.

The entire reception process has been meticulously refined, designed to make you feel valued while simultaneously preventing you from obtaining any crucial information.

Linkla opened the car door, got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and handed the phone to Kona.

Kona flipped through several photos, her brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

"The red-haired boy is Andrew."

From classroom humiliation to after-school stalking and bullying, to being stopped and spoken to privately by a priest in the hallway, it all happened.

You also saw Crawford's hand.

The Sacred Heart Church was where he was in charge of weekend services for the boarding students, and after Alex left, he was clearly looking for new prey.

Perhaps it has already left its mark on this child.

In less than an hour, I witnessed at least three different scenarios of school violence and abuse.

This is just something I saw while taking a casual walk one afternoon.

If you turn the entire school upside down, how many children like this are there?

She returned the phone to Link, leaned back in her chair, and remained silent for a moment.

"Compared to that Asian, this Andrew may have been in a state of repeated abuse for a long time."

His sketchbooks were a form of self-protection—like Alex's canvases.

When a child doesn't know how to express himself with words, drawing is the only outlet he can still control.

He suffered not only bullying from his classmates, but also systemic abuse from clergy.

I have a bold hypothesis here!

"Oh? Tell me about it!"

"Bullying and abuse are actually the selection methods and different stages of the demons in this school."

In other words, bullying may be the first stage of overall harm.

Those clergy and teachers condoned this behavior, choosing the weakest prey among those being bullied to exploit.

If we assume that after Andrew leaves, this Asian man and those who are bullied in other corners will likely be his replacements.

Andrew moved on to the second phase.

So he is now the most crucial node in the entire chain of evidence because he is the evidence that is happening right now!

But he had no protection until we officially contacted him and his family.

If he continues to be kept at school, he will be taken to church by school bus every Saturday and Sunday, where he will be alone with Crawford and Mosley.

Perhaps we can take some action?