Harold's Old Route (8)

Jones's suggestion gave Cartman and Lei no reason to keep refusing.

On the way up the mountain, they hadn't said much, but Fu Qian could feel the sheriff's attitude softening slightly as he sat in the police car.

It seemed that after the earlier crime scene investigation, his level of suspicion in the sheriff's eyes had dropped a little.

He had gone from a cold-blooded animal who covered up a crime after hitting someone with his car to a psychopath who could occasionally offer valuable suggestions.

"Where did you go after your wife drove out yesterday?"

Amid the even heavier silence, Jones suddenly seemed to remember something and looked at Harold.

"I stayed home the whole time..."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"No one can."

Harold answered the sheriff's questions without hesitation, though his voice sounded deeply subdued. He was curled up in his seat, looking utterly lost.

"I barely went out all day."

Hmm.

The car fell silent again. Jones didn't press him further.

Fu Qian understood how he felt.

In Jones's original assessment, this case should have been simple enough.

Harold's wife had hit someone with her car, then hurriedly disposed of the body to avoid responsibility and asked her friends to keep quiet, pretending nothing had happened.

That search just now had clearly been aimed at confirming this theory, and Jones had been convinced the body was under that pile of branches.

Unfortunately, the truth was that the spot was not only empty, but there were no other traces nearby.

Jones was clearly having a hard time accepting that.

As far as he was concerned, this was beyond his abilities.

Even assuming he was a cold-blooded animal, finding a hiding place like that in an unfamiliar area would have been impressive enough. It was nearly impossible that he'd