Invasion of America

Chapter 9 Case Facts
The police station in Baitan Town is located in an old gray building with a mottled exterior wall covered with traces of time.

The gate of the police station is unremarkable. Above the porch of the building hangs a faded police badge, which has long lost its former luster due to wind and sun.

The corridor behind the door was dim and narrow, and the paint on the walls was badly peeling, revealing the yellowed lime underneath.

At the end of the corridor is a row of iron bars, with a sign on the door that says "Detention Room," the writing on it already blurred.

This is the worst place in the police station. In the narrow space of seven or eight square meters, more than a dozen people are often crammed into the same cage, like a group of trapped animals forced into a desperate situation.

A burst of heavy footsteps broke the silence. The sound of leather shoes hitting the ground echoed in the empty corridor and finally stopped outside the iron fence of the detention room.

Sheriff Congers' tall figure appeared in front of the fence, and his cold eyes swept across the detention room.

The baton in his hand gently hit the iron fence, making a "clang clang" sound. The silent threat made people shudder.

"Come out one of you." The iron fence opened, and with a casual point of the baton, Congers dragged out a captured gang member and pulled him in front of the computer.

The screen was playing surveillance footage brought back from the "Scorpion" tavern.

Congers pointed at a blurry figure in the picture and asked sharply, "Before the gunfight ended, there was a tall, fat guy crawling towards the corpse in the opposite direction. Who was he?"

The gang member narrowed his eyes and stared at the screen carefully. After a few seconds, his face suddenly turned ashen and he cursed with gritted teeth:

"Damn it, it's Toto! That high school kid, Romi's brother! We all overlooked him, but it turns out this bastard took the lottery ticket!"

The case was solved so easily.

The gang members who were dragged out confessed everything without hesitation.

Maxim won a huge jackpot, but was stabbed to death by Tochi, the boss of another gang; Maxim shot Tochi in the head before he died;
And Toto, a seemingly insignificant high school student, took advantage of the chaos and took the lottery ticket.
"Boss, what should we do now?" The partner was very excited, his eyes sparkling.

"Whatever we have to do, we need to find Toto first," Congers said, pursing his lips. "A lottery ticket worth over $2.2 billion, at least let me have a go."

The two of them tacitly did not tell the news to other colleagues, but quickly found Toto's home address and drove there.

However, when they got off the bus, something strange happened again.

Toto's grandmother was sitting in front of her house, holding a double-barreled shotgun in her arms. Her body was covered in blood and her face was as pale as if she had been withered.

Her eyes were empty, devoid of all life. Congers immediately aimed his gun at her and shouted, "What the hell happened?"

The old woman looked up at Congers with a vacant gaze, assuming it was a neighbor who had called the police. She shrugged and said calmly, "I blew my son's head off."

He is a drug addict, a lazy bum, and a playboy who only asks me for money all day long.

I couldn't stand it anymore and wanted to shoot him in the head to scare him. But I'm old and my hand was shaking, and the bullet hit my son in the head.

After saying that, she slowly turned the muzzle of the hunting rifle, put it in her mouth, took off her shoes, and pulled the trigger with her toes. Her movements were slow, but without hesitation.

Congers and his partner shouted, "No, stop! We have more questions for you!"

A gunshot made the shouting futile.

The old woman's head was blown to pieces, blood and brain matter splattered everywhere, and her body fell powerlessly at the door with a dull "thump".

"Damn it! Why do I encounter such crap every day?"

Congers couldn't help but roar. His partner cursed and kicked the stones on the ground, also upset by this sudden tragedy.

Despite their scolding, Congers and his partner soon realized a more serious problem - Toto was missing.

My father and grandmother are both dead, what about others?

The two exchanged glances, a sense of foreboding rising in their hearts. They quickly rushed into the house, carefully searching every corner.

The sight of the kitchen was chilling, as if it were a slaughterhouse.

The walls, floors, and even the ceiling were splattered with brains and broken bones, and the air was filled with a strong, nauseating smell of blood.

Toto's father died next to the sink. His rough head was smashed to pieces and blood flowed into the sewer through the sink, making a "tick-tick" sound.

However, apart from the two bodies, there was no one else in the room. Toto, the high school student, had vanished without a trace, as if he had evaporated from the face of the earth.

"Where did this guy go?" Congers cursed under his breath, feeling anxious. A thought flashed through his mind: "Did he run away with the lottery ticket?"

A lottery ticket worth 2.2 billion US dollars would drive anyone who got it crazy.

Congers and his partner exchanged a glance, then jumped into the police car again in unison and sped toward the Scorpion Bar.

When they arrived at the Scorpion Bar, the new scene confirmed their worst suspicions.

At the door of the bar, a third body lay on the ground - Raul was strangled to death, lying on the ground with his neck tilted upwards at a strange angle.

He struggled violently before his death, his eyes were wide open, his hands were twisted like claws, and he was still trying to grab something in the last moment of his life.

"Damn it, this guy was still alive two hours ago." Congers cursed under his breath, feeling something was wrong.

He and his partner walked into the bar carefully, holding a gun in one hand and a police flashlight in the other.

The bar was still a mess with overturned tables and chairs. When the flashlight beam swept across the corner, the fourth body came into view.

Toto, the high school student, was lying on the ground with a dagger stuck in his neck and chest. His clothes were stained with blood. He had been dead for no more than an hour.

"Damn it, the clue is broken." The partner couldn't help but start cursing.

Last night's gunfight at the Scorpion Bar had already left three dead and seven seriously injured. And tonight, two more bodies had been found.

To make matters worse, the lottery ticket worth $2.2 billion is still missing and a new murderer has appeared.

"This case is not over."

Congers cursed under his breath. He leaned against the police car and lit a cigarette, trying to use the nicotine to wake him up, but the smell made him feel even more nauseous.

He looked up at the sky. The sky in the east was already turning pale. A new day was about to begin, but his mood was heavier than the night.

He had a feeling that the new murderer was lurking around him, getting ahead of him at the right moment and killing his competitor for the lottery ticket.

but
There is no other choice but to ask for help.

However, the Baitan Town Police Station only has a dozen police officers, and they are helpless in the face of such a complicated case.

The town police department could only seek further help from the Miami County Sheriff's Department and the FBI in Florida. The FBI, in particular, was good at handling such major cases.
-
The next morning, the area outside the Scorpion Bar was bustling again.

Seven or eight police cars were parked in a disorderly manner on the roadside, and the red and blue police lights were particularly dazzling under the gray sky.

The FBI's black SUV was parked quietly on the side of the road, the antenna on the roof swaying gently in the breeze.

Detectives bustled in and out, carrying large cardboard boxes filled with evidence collected from the scene.

Broken wine bottles, blood-stained clothes, scattered bullet casings, and even a few smashed mobile phones.

Every item is labeled, photographed and registered, and any detail may be a key clue to solving the mystery.

The crowd of onlookers was separated by yellow cordon. They stood in groups of three or five, talking to each other and whispering.

Someone stood on tiptoe and tried to peek inside through the glass window of the bar, but could see nothing except blurry figures and reflected police lights.

Not far away, Miami's local media had set up cameras, and reporters, holding microphones, reported live into the cameras with serious expressions.

Chief Matthew of the White Beach Police Department drove up, his face so gloomy it looked like water could drip out. He had received a series of reports in the early morning, and the dark circles under his eyes showed that he was extremely tired.

Not only did a gunfight break out in a small town of several thousand people, but four people died in one go, including teachers and students from the school. This kind of big news could ruin the director's future.

Reporters immediately swarmed over, their microphones and cameras almost touching the director's face, and they bombarded him with questions like grenades, hoping to kill him.

"Mr. Chief, can you tell us about the progress of the case?" "Are there any clues about the murderer?" "Is this case related to the school?"

The director lowered his head and raised his hand as if to push away an invisible barrier, struggling to clear a path for himself among the surrounding reporters.

"The case is under investigation and I have no comment at this time." After saying that, he quickly crossed the yellow cordon and walked into the bar.

A police officer who was maintaining order extended his hand and stopped the reporters who were trying to continue asking questions, saying, "Please step back and do not cross the cordon."

The lights in the messy bar were bright, but the ground was covered with water, as if there had been a fire and fire rescue.

The FBI's chief detective had already arrived and took the initiative to shake hands with Director Matthew. "I'm Carl, from the Miami branch, and I've been assigned to this case."

Chief Matthew forced a smile and said, "Thank you very much for coming. Otherwise, with the police force and capabilities of this town alone, I'm afraid we wouldn't be able to solve this case."

Baitan Town is just a small town with a permanent population of four to five thousand people, and the town police station has a pitifully small number of police officers, only a dozen or so.

It's more like a police substation than a police station. Of the dozen or so officers, half are civilians, while the remaining half are responsible for a host of other tasks, including patrols, public security, criminal justice, and community service, keeping them busy every day.

If they really encountered such a major case, the town police would be completely unable to cope with it and could only request support from the FBI.

After the greetings, Director Matthew looked around and sighed.

He had been to the bar after the gang shootout the day before yesterday and knew that the scene was in a mess, with tables and chairs toppled over, bloodstains on the ground, and broken bottles and glasses scattered around.

Now, this damn place is ruined.

He turned to Inspector Carr, "How's the scene investigation going?"

Inspector Carl smiled bitterly and said, "We have encountered a cunning opponent. It will be difficult to deal with him."

He pointed to several blurry bloody footprints on the ground and said, “Two murders occurred in succession in this place, and the crime scenes overlap.

Just trying to identify whether these footprints were from yesterday or the day before yesterday gave us a headache.

Because the murderer of the second case cleaned up the scene. He took full advantage of the bar environment, got water from the kitchen pipes, and flushed the scene all over.

When Inspector Carl said this, his teeth were gritting.

After being washed away by the water, the few bloody footprints became very dim, and other traces of the crime disappeared.

When the FBI forensic investigators arrived, they were stunned. The wet crime scene was completely unrecognizable.

"That guy is definitely a veteran. He didn't run away immediately after killing someone. He has a strong mental state.

And he didn't kill people with a gun, but with a kitchen knife and naked strangulation. This is so unusual, so rare, it takes a person with strong self-confidence to do this. "

Director Matthew nodded, secretly shocked.

Anyone who dares to use knives and hand-to-hand combat in a fight is definitely a master.

Especially considering that Raul was carrying a gun with an empty magazine before his death. Being able to withstand such pressure and remain calm and composed is something that no street thug can do.

Bars are already a complex place with lots of people coming and going, and fingerprints, skin flakes, and other traces are everywhere. Adding a flush now would be a disaster for forensic work.

"I can only be thankful that the murderer didn't get gasoline to light the fire, otherwise all traces of the scene would have been lost.

But perhaps this was also intentional, because setting the fire would surely attract the police quickly, shortening his escape time. Using water would not."

Inspector Carl put his hands on his hips and thought the case was very difficult.

Director Matthew looked at the mess in front of him and no longer had any hope of extracting the murderer's personal information.

He turned to Inspector Carl and asked tentatively, "It seems we can only look for clues from the surveillance."

Inspector Carl still shook his head. "The bar's surveillance was destroyed. The surveillance on the nearby streets is also incomplete.

The killer must have been very familiar with the area. Judging from the few footprints, he left through the alley outside the back door, where there's no surveillance.

The "Scorpion" bar is owned by local gangs. Gang members don't like surveillance and have destroyed all the cameras in several nearby streets.

Now the gang is in trouble and the police can’t use surveillance to track down the killer.

"However, the murderer may not be as difficult to catch as we thought." Inspector Carl suddenly laughed with a bit of ease and confidence.

"You mean that lottery ticket?" Director Matthew said with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "A jackpot of over $2.2 billion is a curse. It would be abnormal if some people didn't die."

Inspector Carr nodded and continued, "According to the confessions of the gang members currently under arrest, the first shootout was over the lottery ticket. But the ticket did not leave the bar.

In the second murder, Toto was definitely killed in order to retrieve the lottery ticket, as was Raul. The murderer must have been someone who knew about the lottery ticket.

This will significantly narrow the scope of the investigation. We might be able to find him in a day or two."

Inspector Carl seemed to have seen the shadow of the murderer, “Also, I have contacted the Florida Lottery Commission.

They've promised to notify the FBI immediately if anyone claims the prize. We just have to wait and see, and we'll definitely catch him."

Chief Matthew agreed with this idea, but raised a new question, "What if, I mean what if, the murderer took the lottery ticket to claim the prize, can we catch him?"

This question froze Inspector Carl's smile. He frowned, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his chin, and after thinking for a few seconds, he said:

"The murderer will have to prove that the lottery ticket belongs to him, right? Then we can easily find out who he is."

"But," Director Matthew's voice deepened, "what if the winner claims to have found the lottery ticket?
Lottery prize redemption relies on the ticket, not the person, which is different from a criminal case.

If the FBI can prove that the person claiming the prize is the murderer, then everything will be fine. If not, we can only watch him claim the prize.

"Yes." Inspector Carl also realized that he was too optimistic. "You are right. The Lottery Commission must also complete the prize redemption within ten to fourteen days. There can be no delay.

Moreover, the winners will be given a ninety-day identity confidentiality period, and the authorities cannot disclose their information to the outside world, at least not proactively.

At most, we can ask the winner to cooperate with the investigation, or ask the prosecutor to impose a ban on him, such as prohibiting him from leaving the United States.

Director Matthew also pointed out a fatal point: "Once the winner receives a huge reward of more than one billion US dollars, he can hire the best lawyers to fight the lawsuit and easily spend more than ten years with the FBI.

As long as he insists he found the lottery ticket, and we lack strong evidence, no one can convict him."

There was a brief silence in the bar, and the case seemed unsolvable.

Inspector Carl stared at the ground, thought about it over and over again, and then sighed: "Even so, we can't give up.

The murderer will definitely show up. As long as he dares to claim the prize, or finds someone else to claim it on his behalf, we have a chance to catch him."

Director Matthew smiled wryly, "I hope so. But the impact of over $2.2 billion is probably greater than we imagined."

The case was handed over to the FBI, and the burden on Sheriff Congers' shoulders seemed to be much lighter.

He unexpectedly got two days off, which allowed him to have a good rest and stay away from this troublesome serial murder case.

But he didn't go home immediately. His partner also stayed behind. The two of them sat in silence in the police car, thinking hard.

The two men made a list, which densely recorded all the people who knew about the lottery before the second homicide last night.

Their eyes scanned the list back and forth, carefully examining each name, trying to uncover the hidden truth.

"There were two gang members present at the time, including the bartender and the waitress." Congers began to review the details before and after the incident.

The partner took over: “Maxim and Toki died on the spot, and the waitress who tried to take the lottery ticket was also beaten to death.

But Toto seized the opportunity and took the lottery ticket during the chaos when we arrived at the bar and had a shootout with the gang. But he was unlucky in the end."

Sheriff Congers pictured two nights of possible chaos, the first of which had a clear scenario of a shootout.

“Toto knew that he could not escape under the bullets, and he also knew that the police would search everyone they arrested to ensure that they were disarmed.

He didn't want anyone to know he had taken the lottery ticket, so he hid it in the bar instead of keeping it on his person."

The partner continued: “The next day, the gang members who had escaped gathered at the bar again to try to find the lottery ticket.

But just after we took them back to the police station, Toto went to the bar to try to get the lottery ticket back.

So the killer must have been monitoring the bar.

He most likely saw us arresting Raul and the others, but waited until Toto showed up before taking action, killing Raul as he left the police station and rushed to the bar.

Sheriff Congers nodded, “We can draw a portrait of the murderer.

First of all, he should have known about the lottery after the shooting the night before.

Secondly, he didn't know where the lottery ticket was hidden, but he knew it must be inside the bar, and he even knew that it was Toto who hid the lottery ticket.

Third, he is quite cold-blooded. Whether he killed Toto or Raul, he was very efficient. He has good physical fitness and excellent psychological quality, and is good at close combat.

Finally, he was definitely not on the arrest list, nor was he injured, so he had considerable freedom and sufficient time to commit the crime."

After listing these three items, Congers and his partner discovered that the murderer was definitely not anyone on their list.

The news must have leaked through another channel. Whoever that person is, he is currently out of the police's sight.

"Do we really have to wait until we claim the prize to find out who he is?"

"What if he's smart and restrained enough not to claim the prize?"

"Twenty-two billion dollars, I don't believe he won't deliver."

(End of this chapter)