American forensics, but the gourmet system

Chapter 70 Russell's Conjecture (Second Update, Please Subscribe!)

The roar of an engine grew louder as a beat-up Chevrolet Silverado pickup truck drove along the road, its snow chains kicking up clouds of snow as it crunched over the snow-covered surface.

The Cybertruck's front left tire was punctured beyond repair by a three-pronged nail, and its relatively special tire specifications meant that a new tire couldn't be installed for the time being. So, Aina borrowed an old pickup truck from the farm manager.

Although this 12-year-old Chevrolet Silverado is a bit noisy, a bit worn out, and a bit bumpy, at least it can still run.

Russell parked the car on the side of the road.

Beside it, there were uninhabited hills covered in snow.

A brown rabbit was startled, leaped out, and ran away down the hillside.

The three opened the car door and jumped out.

"I feel like I'm being shaken to pieces—" Jesse said, rubbing her lower back in pain. "Do we really have to install snow chains?"

The Silverado's chassis was very stiff, and with the addition of snow chains, it felt like the car had been fitted with irregularly shaped polygonal tires. Even on relatively flat roads, the ride was so bumpy that Jesse, sitting in the back seat, was in excruciating pain.

"Safety first, there's no one clearing the snow off the roads here—" Russell closed the car door and looked around. "Yesterday's heavy snow seems to have helped those criminals; at least now it's not easy for us to find a suitable place to hide the bodies."

""

The sun shone on the pristine white snow, reflecting a dazzling white light.

Jesse took out several pairs of sunglasses from his backpack and gave them to Russell and Aina.

"It seems we can only search slowly and painstakingly," Jesse said, putting on his sunglasses. "Fortunately, this hillside isn't very large; we should be able to find most of it by this morning."

"The three of us would better work together," Russell suggested, still shaken by what had happened the night before. "We only went to the coroner's office and the funeral home, and we alerted the criminals. If we really linger near their dumping site—who knows what he might do?"

"No problem." Jesse patted his bulging pockets. "I brought—"

'

He gestured with his hand to indicate that he was shooting.

"You can carry a sidearm?" Russell asked Jesse in a low voice, sounding surprised.

"What are you thinking? Of course not a work-related weapon—" Jesse shook his head. "I'm here in a private capacity, so of course I'm carrying my own gun—"

"Oh—you have a secret gun license." Russell suddenly realized. "Actually, I'd like to get a gun to carry with me too. To be honest, it's too easy to offend people in our line of work—"

"I'll help you get it done when we get back to Brooklyn after we're done," Jesse patted Russell on the shoulder. "A gun license isn't that hard to get."

"Great." Russell asked Jesse as he trudged up the snow-covered mountaintop, "Have you told Captain Hansen about our plan?"

"I already said so." Jesse nodded, pulling himself along quickly through the bare bushes around him. "Captain Hansen volunteered to join forces with the Ulster County Sheriff's Department to investigate Am Fabian—luckily, his registered address is within our squad's jurisdiction, which saved us a lot of trouble."

"So—what crime did Fabian and Dr. Simmons commit in collusion?" Aina asked. "How did they profit by falsifying cremation procedures?"

"I don't really know either—" Russell slipped, and quickly grabbed a bush like Jesse did. "But I have some guesses, though I don't know if they're reasonable—"

Jesse turned and glanced at Russell with interest: "Then tell me about it."

Russell cleared his throat: "They might be selling human organs."

Jesse snapped a branch off a bush and nearly slid down the hillside.

"What?!"

He turned around unsteadily, staring blankly at Russell as if he had been punched in the face.

Aina also took off her sunglasses, her eyes wide with shock.

"I told you I was just speculating," Russell shrugged. "You've all heard about the black market for human organs, haven't you?"

Jesse nodded, then shook his head. "I've heard of it—but it's just a rumor, isn't it?"

“It’s not just a rumor.” Russell sighed. “The head of the morgue at Harvard Medical School has been involved in the resale of donated medical bodies. When I was in college, this news was all over the place. Even in Brooklyn, there were wealthy people who needed kidneys who went through middlemen to find poor kidney donors in Eastern Europe and paid about $20 to have the kidney transplant surgery done overseas. These things have all been on the news.”

"But—if it's—" Jesse's voice trembled slightly, "if it's harvesting organs from living people—that's murder!"

"What if the profits are high enough?" Russell countered. "We investigated Rachel, who was cremated as Jennifer. She was a poor girl, and nobody cares if a social outcast like Rachel goes missing—but her organs could bring this criminal gang a huge sum of money—"

""

Russell cleared his throat and continued, "To make things even cleaner, they decided to send the harvested bodies to the crematorium—and every year there are several unidentified or unclaimed bodies in Ulster County, which gives them a good opportunity to cover up their crimes."

"I'm getting a little creeped out, Russell." Jesse took a deep breath. "I really don't want to believe your reasoning—if this is true, do they even have any humanity left?"

The three climbed silently towards the summit for a while, then Aina suddenly spoke up: "If Andy, Fabian, and Simmons really are harvesting organs from living people for sale, can we send those two still alive to the execution chamber?"

"able."

"cannot."

Russell nodded, while Jesse shook his head.

"Please," Jesse sighed, "New York State hasn't carried out an execution in 60 years, Russell."

"But there's also federal law," Russell stated definitively. "If we can prove they've committed interstate kidnapping resulting in death, they could face the death penalty in federal court."

"You're going to drag the FBI into this?" Jesse's expression was somewhat subtle. "That's not a good idea, Russell—those FBI guys are a bit arrogant—"

"Let's not discuss this now." Russell stopped on the hillside. "Let's confirm the location where the body was dumped first."

"It's too difficult," Jesse said, catching his breath. "We can't bring the police dogs; it's just the three of us climbing around—"

Even if we wait another week, we might not be able to find the location where the body was disposed of.

"You're right." Aina smiled and looked down the hillside. "But we do have police dogs—"

"You can even get police dogs?" Jesse's mouth dropped open. "Don't you need an application to move police dogs?"

On the road below the mountain, an old Chevrolet sedan roared to a stop behind the Silverado pickup truck.

The tall Mr. Clarkson got out of the driver's seat, and a yellow and white beagle with big ears jumped down from behind him, flapping its big ears, raising one hind leg, and urinating a yellow hole in the snow on the side of the road.

"Let me introduce you to Jesse," Russell said, pointing to a man and a dog below the hillside. "This is our private police dog, Kawhi."

Little Ka made a few whirring calls, startling a few pheasants and crows.

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