Where did Lake go?
The answer was obvious.
Lake had run off.
No...
To be precise, Lake had never entered New Amsterdam Hospital at all. He had been drinking with a group of colleagues in a well-known police bar nearby the entire time.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"
"Do it, do it, do it!"
Amid the crowd's cheers, Lake downed a large glass of whiskey in one gulp. The instant the last drop slid down his throat, the bar erupted in cheers.
The officers who were off duty today or had not received the news immediately gave Lake's performance a storm of applause.
Lake set down his glass, pressed a hand against it, then turned to the detective who had bet with him. "Hey, buddy, remember, you lost. Don't forget to pay for the drinks."
The precinct detective shook his head and gave a bitter smile.
Lake's drinking capacity had long been legendary among his colleagues. After all, even George Stacy, reputed to be the best drinker of them all, had been knocked out by Lake several times. Everyone had thought they would finally see just how much Lake could drink today.
Who would have thought...
After merely letting out a belch, Lake sat down on a barstool and said to the blonde waitress, who was attractive enough to score an eight, "A bourbon, please."
Lake still preferred bourbon.
Whiskey?
That stuff tasted strange to Lake. Bourbon was much better. Drinking it made him feel the heroic spirit of medieval cowboys from the American West.
The one who had gone to the hospital to work had been his clone.
The clone's mission was over.
Naturally...
He had chosen suicide to end the clone's existence.
The gunshot after Jack and the others entered the ICU had been Lake shooting himself in the forehead.
He had to admit.
It hurt!
The clone's six senses were shared with his main body, which was why Lake had hesitated for a while. Even now, as he rubbed his brow, he could still feel as if there were a hole there.
Still, the ending was pretty good.
He had killed everyone he needed to kill.
I told you. No one can stop me from killing the people I want dead. Even the person who reported it was killed. I'd like to see what tricks the guy behind this still has.
Lake's eyes flickered.
Half an hour later.
A police car pulled up outside the bar.
Beckett, Esposito, and Ryan walked in. The first thing they saw was Lake drinking the liquor in his glass at the bar.
The other people in the bar immediately turned their eyes toward Beckett.
After confirming that they were colleagues, they looked away. However, several precinct detectives carried their glasses over and sat on the barstools beside Lake.
They had come to provide Lake with an alibi.
Lake smiled and raised his glass toward Beckett. "Hey, Beckett. Want a drink?"
Esposito walked over. "Lake, nothing for me?"
Lake shrugged and said to Detective Allen from the Second Precinct, who was sitting beside him, "There is. Detective Allen just lost a bet to me. He's paying for my drinks today."
Allen shrugged and made a gesture indicating that it was unfortunately true.
Beckett breathed a sigh of relief. "You've been here the whole time?"
An alibi was good. What they feared was Lake being at home with no witnesses, or stammering and failing to explain himself clearly.
When Beckett had just heard an officer say that Lake was at a nearby bar, she had tensed up. After all, the bar was quite close to the hospital, giving him enough time to commit the crime.
Besides, Lake had an excellent motive.
To make sure, Beckett asked again, "You've been here the whole time? For the past hour, you've stayed in the main area of this bar without moving? You didn't go to the bathroom or step outside to make a call?"
Lake patted his pocket. "If you hadn't mentioned it, I would've forgotten. I was in a hurry when I left and forgot to bring my phone."
Detective Allen of the Second Precinct pointed around at the colleagues in the bar, then at the blonde waitress behind the counter. "All of us can testify to that."
Lake's eyes suddenly lit up. "Oh, right."
Beckett's heart tightened. "What is it?"
Lake rose from his barstool. "I didn't feel anything before, but now that you mention it, I've realized I really need to use the bathroom."
Beckett: "..."
The colleagues in the bar were all stunned for a moment. Then, as they watched Lake's back heading toward the restroom in the rear of the bar, they burst into laughter almost simultaneously.
Half an hour later.
NYPD.
Inside Montgomery's office.
Sitting in a chair, Lake helplessly rubbed his still-aching brow. "Boss, I've already been suspended. I'm not getting paid for staying here."
Montgomery looked at Lake, who reeked of alcohol, then asked Beckett, "Are you sure this guy had no opportunity to commit the crime?"
Beckett nodded.
Lake smiled and looked at Montgomery. "Captain, those officers are still alive, aren't they? They can tell at a glance whether it was me. Luckily, I was upset about being suspended by you today and went out drinking. If I'd been at home, I would've been completely screwed."
Montgomery remained expressionless and did not even look at Lake. "How's the investigation at the scene? Did you find out how the killer left?"
Beckett shook her head. "The forensic team is still over there collecting evidence and seeing whether they can find any useful clues."
"What about those two?"
"They're dead."
As she spoke, Beckett glanced at Lake, then said to Montgomery, "Chief, do you think someone might be trying to frame Lake?"
Montgomery rolled his eyes. "Then the killer this guy hired must have been cheap."
Lake: "..."
You're cheap. Your whole family is cheap.
Although Lake did take contract killings through a crowdsourced network, he still had standards. He never accepted ordinary jobs. He had only one rule when taking a contract: it had to be worth more than fifty thousand.
Small jobs under fifty thousand?
Heh.
He let the people placing the orders and the people being targeted bid against each other. Whoever's offer reached fifty thousand first got Lake's services. Fair to young and old alike, with a hundred percent customer satisfaction.
Beckett frowned slightly.
Montgomery glanced at Lake before saying to Beckett, "If those two had suffered only minor injuries, died for no reason, or remained alive, our Detective Edwin would have had trouble. But they're dead—and they were killed in broad daylight, right in front of a group of ICU doctors and nurses. Our Detective Edwin's trouble has simply vanished."
"No way."
"What do you think?"
Beckett frowned. "Even if those two are dead, what about the complaint against Lake for excessive use of force?"
Lake said to Beckett, "Let me correct you. I wasn't using excessive force. Those two blocked my path and tried to get physical with me, so I kicked them once each."
Beckett rolled her eyes at Lake. I'm trying to help you here, you idiot.
Montgomery coughed and said, "You can all tell at a glance that someone was scheming against him. Do you think we can't? As long as no one makes trouble, would the Internal Affairs Division dare investigate him over this?"
Lake tilted his head and looked at Montgomery. "Captain, I'll bet you a thousand dollars that they will!"
Montgomery: "..."
Beckett: "..."
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