I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Mike stared silently at Catherine's house.

Now, he's starting to think about giving up.

Catherine appears to be in very good condition.

Mike began to doubt his own memory: Could it be that I really didn't hit anyone that day?

Or did they hit the wrong person, and the body was stolen by a homeless man?

He knew that some homeless people enjoyed doing unspeakable things to corpses.

Mike picked up the phone and called his informant, Zachary.

Before Mike could speak, Zachary quickly said:

"Boss! I've found out!"

"Oh?" Mike perked up.

Zachary whispered:

"On the day of the incident, Valentine the mouse saw a woman covered in blood leaving with an Asian man. I showed Valentine the photo of your dress, and Valentine confirmed that the woman was wearing that dress."

"Leave together?" Mike asked, puzzled.

"Why are you leaving together?"

"Walk."

"impossible!"

He knocked her flying more than ten meters; how could he possibly walk away?! Mike was incredulous:

"Was Valentine hallucinating because he had too much to drink that day?"

Zachary repeatedly assured:

"Absolutely not! Valentine is broke right now and can't afford anything."

Mike's mind was buzzing, and it took him a long time to calm down before he said in a deep voice:

Tell me in detail what happened back then.

Valentine said the woman was covered in blood, and the man was Asian, looked young, was wearing a white T-shirt, and seemed to be a student.

The student is Asian and very young.

Richard's image immediately flashed into Mike's mind.

"Is he around 1.8 meters tall?"

"almost."

It really is Richard! Mike said coldly:

"Very well! I want to ask Valentine some questions myself!"

A dozen minutes later, Mike stood in front of the little mouse Valentine.

Valentine was only 1.64 meters tall, which was very short.

He had a long face:

"Boss, this has nothing to do with me, I didn't do anything..."

Mike pulls out a secretly taken photo of Richard:

"Is this the man?"

Valentine tried to identify it for a while:

"It must be him."

Mike shouted angrily:

"I don't want 'should,' it's either yes or no!"

Valentine was almost in tears:

"I was quite far away that day, I only caught a glimpse from a distance, so I can't be sure, but the appearance was most likely correct. What happened? Did he steal your goods?"

"Fxxk!" Mike glared and grabbed Valentine's collar:

"Watch your mouth! I'm a police officer, where would I have any goods?"

Valentine quickly said:

"Yes, yes, yes! I misspoke!"

"Hmph!" Mike continued:

"Listen! Forget about it, it'll be good for you. Otherwise..."

Valentine very cleverly said:

"I don't remember anything."

He didn't care at all what the woman had done, whether it was a mob boss's mistress stealing his goods or the woman catching Mike cheating on someone else; it was none of his business.

In short, offending the sheriff is a dead end.

Mike nodded in satisfaction, straightened his collar, and took two small packets of colored powder from his pocket, tossing them to the two men.

"Remember, you bought this yourselves."

Their eyes lit up, and they grabbed the powder, nodding repeatedly.

"Thank you so much, boss! I bought it! I bought it!"

"Don't worry, boss! I won't remember anything after today!"

Mike glanced at the two of them, then quickly left, leaving them to enjoy the last moments of happiness in their lives.

Some enhancers, if the concentration of certain ingredients is even slightly high, can transform from a potion that brings happiness into a scythe that reaps life.

......

More than half an hour later, Mike walked into the OCME (also known as the New York City Medical Examiner’s Office, an independently operating official forensic institution that works closely with the NYPD) and found Simon, a forensic pathologist in the Department of Forensic Pathology.

Simon looked up:

"Hey Mike, you're back at work?"

The two have worked together for many years and have a very good personal relationship.

Mike didn't say anything and locked the door.

Simon sat up straight, his expression turning serious:

"What's wrong, Mike?"

Mike said softly:

"If a car hits a woman at 60 miles per hour, could she survive?"

(60 miles per hour is approximately equal to 96 kilometers per hour)

"60 miles?" Simon laughed.

"At 60 miles per hour, a person can be thrown at least ten meters. According to statistics from the NHTSA (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration), in the last 10 years, the fatality rate for a head-on collision at this speed is 100%. Look..." Simon pulled up a computer file and showed it to Mike.

Mike glanced at it and, sure enough, it was 100%. His expression changed slightly.

"What if we're lucky enough to survive?"

Simon said jokingly:

"Even if she miraculously survives, she'll be paralyzed for the rest of her life, bedridden, and need a urine bag to urinate. What? Did you accidentally hit someone with your car last night?"

Mike feigned nonchalance:

"How could that be? I was just asking."

Simon shook his head.

Mike is indeed a good cop, but his methods are too brutal, and I wonder what he's done this time.

But none of this concerns me; I'm just a forensic pathologist.

Simon calmly replied:

"I don't know anything, so don't tell me anything."

Mike patted Simon on the shoulder:

"I'll treat you to drinks next week."

"Forget it, your wine is all homemade. Who knows if it's too high in methanol? I don't want to die at the hands of a cop."

"Ha ha!"

The two had been friends for over a decade, and Mike didn't think much of it, opening the door and leaving.

As soon as he stepped out the door, his expression turned serious, and he hurried to the NYPD.

Once he entered the police station, someone greeted him.

"Hey Mike! You're back on the job? Those idiots at the IAB finally realized their mistake?"

"I haven't been reinstated yet; I forgot something in the office."

......

Although he was suspended from duty, he was still a sheriff, and many police officers in the office greeted him when they saw him.

Mike quietly entered the open office area. His colleague was not there; he had probably gone out on a field trip.

Mike waited for the computer to boot up, lost in thought.

He was certain that the person he hit that day was Catherine, and the man who left with Catherine was Richard.

As for Richard, Mike believed that Richard had simply happened to encounter the injured Catherine and, out of kindness, accompanied her on her journey.

There's only one question now: Why is Catherine completely unharmed?

Mike's mind flashed through a large number of movie and TV characters who could recover quickly.

alien?

vampire?

Werewolf?

Wolverine?

This is utterly absurd! Mike felt like he was going crazy.

Could they be super soldiers secretly developed by the US government? Or something like genetically modified humans?

Although it's still quite outrageous, given the prevalence of government conspiracy theories in the United States, Mike felt that this possibility was actually greater.

He accessed the police's internal database and began searching for information on the supernatural, aliens, rapid recovery, genetic modification, and super soldiers.

As expected, nothing was found.

Then there are only two possibilities:

Or perhaps Wolverine, vampires, super soldiers, and the like don't exist at all.

Either such supernatural things do exist, but they are deliberately hidden by higher-ups.

If the higher-ups are deliberately hiding it, then logically speaking, as long as I search within the police database, I will inevitably trigger some alarms, be noticed by relevant departments, and be contacted.

This is the only solution Mike can think of right now.

You can't just go to the FBI or some other weird organization and report that you've discovered a vampire, can you?

He would definitely be seen as crazy, become a laughing stock of the entire NYPD, and even be suspected of having a mental illness and never being able to return to work.

He could already imagine the mockery from his superiors:

"Catherine is indeed sucking your blood, but you can't report her as a vampire, can you?"

Mike waited and waited in the office until night fell.

No one contacted him, and he was not arrested.

"It seems that such a department does not exist." Mike was disappointed.

The truth remains shrouded in mystery.

He calmly deleted his search history to avoid being mistaken for a madman.