You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

The next morning, the sun was still kind enough not to be obscured by the clouds again.

Lyon drove an unmarked Ford Explorer, which he had picked up from the ACU garage, and first took a detour to his old neighborhood where he used to live.

Although he has now moved into a luxury apartment in the city center, he hasn't moved out of the old house here yet, and he still needs to check the wiring of the surveillance cameras installed there.

Pushing open the apartment's first-floor door, in the administrator's booth, the old man named Harry was still wearing his ever-present Seattle Kraken hoodie, with reading glasses perched on his nose, a ballpoint pen in his hand, and looking at a crossword puzzle from yesterday's newspaper.

Lyon walked over and tapped the glass surface of the guard booth with his bent hand.

"Hey, Harry."

The old man stopped writing, raised his eyelids, and looked at Leon over his reading glasses, his brows immediately furrowing.

"It's you, great hero."

The old man's tone was curt, "Didn't you make a fortune and move away? What are you doing back? To collect your stinky socks?"

"Just passing by."

Leon ignored his attitude, rested his hands on the table, and casually asked:

"I have a question for you. In the last couple of days, has any young single mother come here asking if there are any vacant rooms for rent?"

Harry put down his pen, his brows furrowing immediately, his face contorting into a deep wrinkle.

He put on a stern face, and his eyes became wary.

"Where did this single mother come from? What's her name?"

"I don't know her name," Leon thought for a moment, "but she had a little girl who looked about four or five years old with her. The girl's name was Amy."

Upon hearing these two characteristics, Harry's expression became even more serious.

He straightened up, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and adopted an interrogation posture:

Why are you asking this?

"I don't disclose tenant information to just anyone in this building. What's your relationship with this mother and daughter? Is it related to a case or a personal grudge?"

Looking at the old man's righteous and indignant demeanor, Lyon felt somewhat helpless.

"Neither."

Lyon shrugged. "I gave her this address and recommended she rent a place here. I just wanted to ask if she'd settled in yet."

"Oh?"

The old man was stunned for a moment.

He blinked, his previously stern face instantly freezing, a brief look of bewilderment flashing in his eyes.

A few seconds later, the old man seemed to finally retrieve the incident from his somewhat rusty memory bank.

Actually, that woman came yesterday afternoon. She not only asked about renting the apartment, but also explicitly mentioned that "Officer Vance" had sent her to see Mr. Harry.

But he's getting old, and his memory isn't very good; he just couldn't connect Leon's face with what that woman said yesterday.

"Cough cough..."

To cover his embarrassment, Harry cleared his throat, picked up the pen on the table again, and pretended to scribble a couple of lines on the newspaper.

"Ah... I remember now. I know, of course I know."

The old man stubbornly raised his head, forcing himself to find a way out:

"I was just... testing you."

"Yes, let me test you. Let's see if you're the kind of pervert who randomly asks for the addresses of single women. These days, there are plenty of perverts in uniform, so I need to keep an eye on you."

Lyon almost burst out laughing at his somewhat comical attempt to cover up his embarrassment.

Yes, you're right.

Leon nodded cooperatively, not calling him out: "So she's settled in?"

"She paid the deposit yesterday."

Harry looked down at the word puzzle again, his tone softening slightly:

"I rented a north-facing room in the corner on the second floor. Although the lighting isn't great, the heating was just fixed, so it's not cold, and the price is a bit cheaper."

"She plans to pay the remaining rent after she gets paid next week and then move in."

"The child is quite well-behaved and doesn't make much noise."

"That's good."

Lyon received a positive reply and felt relieved.

"Alright, you go ahead with your riddles, I'm leaving."

Lyon waved towards the duty room, went upstairs, checked the installed camera wiring, then went downstairs, pushed open the apartment door, and walked back to the street outside.

Lyon got back into the driver's seat of the Ford Explorer, started the engine, and sped off towards the old pier at number 90 to the west.

About half an hour later.

The car left the smooth asphalt road and turned into a wasteland full of potholes and mud.

This is the abandoned dockside RV campground that old Bill mentioned.

The air was filled with the salty smell of the sea, the sour smell of rotting garbage, and the exhaust fumes of burning cheap diesel.

Lyon parked the car in an open area outside the camp and got out.

The scene before me was utterly dilapidated.

Large patches of weeds grew out of the cracked cement ground. Dozens of old RVs of different sizes and models were parked haphazardly on the open space.

Many RVs had flat tires, rusted bodies, and windows covered with planks or tattered plastic sheeting.

The muddy ground between the RVs was piled with all sorts of household garbage, discarded tires, and rusty barbecue grills.