Who Exactly is the Murderer?

To Brian's surprise, Glenn did not take Shaina to somewhere more suitable for the two of them to spend time together. Instead, he followed the flow of traffic all the way to a hospital in the city.

After the two of them left, Brian went in and asked around, only then learning that

Glenn had merely come to accompany Shaina for some gynecological examinations.

Shaina's condition was not good.

Years of promiscuity, drug use, and a reversed sleep schedule had left both her body and her uterus in poor shape.

The baby was at risk of miscarriage.

If she wanted to keep the child, she would need a lot of money.

Shaina clearly did not have that much money.

In fact, if she did not quit drugs, the rest of her life would be very short, and she would not find happiness in it either.

To satisfy an ever-growing addiction, she would keep sinking into prostitution.

That was her normal fate.

"She really is a pitiful woman."

Brian shook his head and lost any interest in getting involved.

Kenneth's obsession was most likely impossible to fulfill.

The next day, the wanted notice for Ike, the bombing suspect, had already been issued across all of Los Angeles County.

Ivan and Glenn also mobilized their former informants.

As for that, Brian took a let-fate-decide attitude.

If he wanted to, he could also ask his uncle for help and have him use the Blood Bath Gang's influence to search for Ike's whereabouts.

But before he had enough confidence, Brian was very resistant to having contact with his uncle again.

In any case, the case had basically been declared solved.

He was in no hurry.

As for the matter between Glenn and Shaina, Brian did not run his mouth about it either.

That was the other man's private business after work.

It was not his place to interfere.

One day passed.

Two days passed.

Susan's expression grew uglier and uglier.

She seemed as if she were on her period, annoyed by everyone she saw, making Brian and the others afraid to stay in the office. They simply used the search as an excuse, drove a police cruiser from the station, and went out cruising around.

Toward evening, just when Brian thought today would also pass peacefully, the police radio suddenly crackled with a call from the dispatch center: "...Wanted criminal Ike spotted. Repeat, wanted criminal spotted at Apartment 332 on Sunset Boulevard."

"Apartment 332?"

Brian's heart stirred.

Wasn't that the very apartment building where Susan had gone on a killing spree a few days ago?

Mad Dog Ike had actually hidden there?

Well, damn.

The most dangerous place was the safest place, was it?

Brian did not hesitate. He turned on the siren, swung the car around, and rushed toward the direction of Apartment 332.

When he approached the street where the apartment building was located, there were already quite a few police cars by the roadside, converging on the apartment building from every direction.

Brian even heard dense gunfire from inside the car.

He instinctively slowed the car.

Just then.

Boom—

The ground shook.

A huge mass of flames lit the gradually darkening sky red.

Screams and chaotic calls for help also came over the police radio:

"Requesting backup, requesting backup!"

"Fuck, they've got rockets!"

"Oh God, Bob's dead! Ambulance, someone's hurt!"

Brian sucked in a cold breath.

Holy shit.

They had rockets now?

This was insane!

His hands moved lightning-fast. He threw the car into a one-eighty sideways drift, skimming past the police cars roaring by, and charged onto the street behind the apartment building.

Brian was not being cowardly.

This was merely tactics: block the escape route, take potshots from the dark, fight while retreating, and make a victorious tactical repositioning!

Brian hid the police car, pinned his badge in a conspicuous spot on his chest, pulled out his handgun and the M4 he had been issued over the past few days, then found a corner and crouched down.

After the explosion went off.

The gunfire up front weakened for a while, then surged again.

Brian focused.

If this had been a few years earlier, with heavy firepower in Ike's hands, he might actually have been able to pin the police down.

But ever since two robbers in bulletproof vests, armed with automatic submachine guns, had sent dozens upon dozens—nearly a hundred—Los Angeles cops running with their tails between their legs, the well-funded LAPD's firepower had undergone a qualitative upgrade.

No matter how crazy that Ike was.

He would not hold out for long!

Brian had guessed right.

He had crouched there for less than five minutes.

Several bedraggled figures, handguns in hand and several backpacks slung along with them, ran out from the side neighborhood of the apartment building ahead, rushing toward cars parked by the roadside.

Brian's eyes lit up. "Whoa, there's a tunnel?"

More importantly, he could not see any of the long guns or heavy weapons in their hands. They had probably shot them all empty.

This merit was meant to be his!

Seeing that the men were about to leave his field of view.

Brian had no time to worry about anything else. He found the angle, raised his gun, and sprayed wildly.

Rat-tat-tat—

The M4's trajectory was very steady.

Under that close-range burst of utterly reckless fire.

Of the five men who had just run out ahead, three went down on the spot.

The remaining one was not tall, but his reactions were extremely fast.

The instant the gunshots rang out.

He grabbed a companion and dragged him in front as a shield.

As soon as Brian's gunfire stopped.

Without the slightest hesitation, he raised his handgun to return fire, but his body froze in place.

At the corner of a wall seven or eight meters away, a tall man in a bulletproof vest was crouching there in a sneaky posture. Most importantly, the muzzle of the other man's handgun was already aimed at his body.

Brian took a deep breath and said coldly, "Drop the weapon. Or you can bet on whether I can hit you at this distance."

A trace of madness flashed across Ike's face.

He sneered and threw the handgun in his hand down. "Damn cop! Aaah! I was framed! The bombing wasn't me!"

As he spoke.

Ike's left hand casually reached behind him.

As long as this damned cop had his attention distracted by his words, Ike could counter-kill him!

Seeing him get into position.

Brian did not hesitate at all and pulled the trigger.

A gunshot rang out with a bang.

The bullet grazed Ike and struck the ground behind him.

Before Ike could fly into a rage, five or six more bullets followed, and this time two finally hit.

Ike's eyes widened, as if he couldn't understand why, when he had dropped his weapon and hadn't run, this damned cop was still shooting him!

Thud—

A muffled impact.

The corpse slammed heavily into the ground.

Mad Dog Ike made his exit.

Brian swapped in a fresh magazine, walked up to Ike's corpse, whose eyes were still open in death, and shrugged. "Sorry, my aim's terrible. I told you to stand still just to make it easier to aim. There's no way I'd let someone as screwed in the head as you go to prison alive. What if you broke out?"

With that said, Brian went to each of the corpses on the ground in turn and put another bullet into them.

When cutting weeds, you pulled them up by the roots!

He had no desire to risk facing revenge.

Just as Brian was waiting for the other officers to arrive, a strange sense rose in his heart.

Brian looked in the direction of the feeling and, to his surprise, discovered that above Ike's corpse, which had only just died, two incomparably bright little red balls were slowly appearing, finally hovering over the body!

Obsession!

And two obsessions at once!

This Ike really was a good man!

Brian went from shock to delight and hurried over, crushing the two little balls of obsession.

As the little balls of obsession shattered, two pieces of information surfaced in Brian's mind:

One: Kill that bitch and avenge my little brother!

Two: Find the bastard who framed me and kill his whole family!

Brian froze.

Framed?

Ike actually really wasn't the culprit behind the bombing.

Then who was the real culprit?

One more chapter, probably at nine or ten.