Chapter 1163: Death, Evidence, and Leverage

The man who lost his child opened the door a small crack. The security chain was fastened—an iron chain, about the thickness of a little finger, connected the door to the frame.

In reality, this kind of security only prevents "civilized and polite criminals." They see it and leave.

But against the vicious ones, they only need to slam it a few times to break it open.

Standing at the door were four... rather frightening-looking guys. They wore suits, dark ties, and their expressions were all serious—a kind of seriousness that made one uneasy.

The man who lost his child observed them carefully and shook his head. "I don't know you. What do you want?"

The guy at the front was already balding. He looked to be about thirty-seven or thirty-eight. He took a wallet from his coat and showed the man his ID. It was a Federal Prosecutor's ID.

"I'm a prosecutor from the prosecutor's office. I want to talk to you about some details regarding your child's death."

This sentence made the man's guard drop considerably. His face even held a trace of hope. "You... found her?"

According to the police, their daughter was just "missing."

A missing person case couldn't be filed at the police station, but they were sure their daughter had been murdered. She had never gone so long without contacting home or coming back.

They knew that even if their daughter had all sorts of problems they didn't know about, she was still their child. No matter her situation, alive or dead, they wanted to find her while also seeking justice.

Whether she was alive or dead.

Facing the man's hopeful gaze, the guy at the door shook his head.

They were supposed to have handled this couple earlier, but they contacted a reporter, which changed things. And that reporter was quite capable.

If not for this accident, this couple might already be with their daughter.

But it didn't matter. Now they had more support from Mr. Potter's side. They could ignore some of the risks and forcefully erase this couple, and even that reporter.

The balding guy put away his prosecutor's ID. The thing was real. With the power of the people behind him, getting a real ID was like child's play.

It was just that the owner of this ID was not registered in the prosecutor's system. In other words, the ID was real, but the person was fake.

"Are you sure you want to talk here?" The bald man glanced around. "Outside your door?"

"My mistake!" The man who lost his daughter slapped his forehead. He closed the door, unfastened the chain, and welcomed them in.

"We've been so busy looking for our daughter lately, so... I'm sorry, this is a bit rude."

He led the men toward the living room, shouting at the same time, "Jenny, go make some coffee! A prosecutor is here to talk about our daughter!"

His wife immediately ran out of the living room, her face also full of hope. "Is... is she back?"

"Go make the coffee!" the husband instructed again, then turned to the four men. "Let's talk in the living room."

The men entered the living room, while his wife, Jenny, went to the kitchen to make coffee. What surprised the man was that this "prosecutor's" subordinates did not sit down; they remained standing.

Only the "prosecutor" sat.

"So... is it just the two of you here now?" the bald prosecutor asked, a question that surprised the man.

He just paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, just the two of us. Ever since she disappeared... you know, it's been a huge blow to us."

"The room is a bit messy, so I apologize..."

He was speaking a bit incoherently, because the place was a mess. All sorts of things were piled up. They had no heart to clean anything.

The bald prosecutor nodded. "I heard you also contacted a reporter?"

"To be honest, before we had more information, I actually wouldn't recommend you take this to the media. You made a logical error."

The man immediately explained, "We went to the police, but they wouldn't take our case. We had no choice. Someone told us we could talk to a reporter."

"We were completely out of options at the time. If we had known the prosecutor's office had taken the case, we definitely wouldn't have done that!"

He was explaining, not wanting to leave a bad impression on this prosecutor who could help him.

The bald prosecutor nodded. He looked at one of his men. "Are you just going to stand here and wait for the lady to bring the coffee?"

"Go help her!"

The man who lost his daughter immediately said they didn't need help. He was still being polite. As he stood up, the bald prosecutor pressed him back down. "That's a lot of coffee!"

He paused, looking directly into the man's eyes. His gaze was... it gave people an indescribable feeling. The man wanted to be polite again, but for some reason, he lost all his courage and sat back down with a dry laugh.

At this point, he already sensed something was wrong. This guy didn't seem like his idea of a prosecutor at all.

"Besides that reporter, who else did you tell?"

The man was now suspicious, and that suspicion was amplifying. His brain came back online. He asked a sharp question, "Shouldn't you be talking to me about my daughter's situation?"

"Why are you so concerned with who knows about this?"

His expression became serious. Just then, a sound of something falling and shattering came from the kitchen. He was about to stand up to see what happened, when a large man standing behind the sofa lunged forward and locked his neck!

He struggled in terror, but the prosecutor held his arms and legs down. His eyes bulged, his face turning red from the lack of blood flow and rising pressure—so red it looked like it would split open!

The kind where if you made a small cut, blood would spurt out!

He stared at the prosecutor, as if his gaze could kill. But it couldn't.

He felt his life force rapidly draining. Suffocation is a very painful way to die. His instincts began to take over his body. His struggles became more intense, but he still couldn't break free from the two men's grip.

In the final moments of his life, it suddenly occurred to him: could these people be the ones who murdered his daughter?

Would he see his daughter soon? And he was still worried about his wife.

Two minutes passed. The bald prosecutor stood up, breathing heavily. He adjusted his tie, then patted the thick arm on the man's neck. "That's enough. Are you trying to twist his head off?"

The strongman released his arm. The man who lost his daughter naturally slid off the sofa onto the floor. The bald prosecutor lifted his cheek. Stone dead.

He then turned and walked to the kitchen. The woman, Jenny, was also lying on the floor. She had received the same treatment; one look and you knew she'd been strangled.

Looking at her urine-soaked skirt, the bald prosecutor frowned, disgusted. "Clean this up. Quick."

Soon, a panel van arrived. The two bodies were rolled up in blankets and loaded into the van. Unbeknownst to them, someone was filming everything, including their faces.

As the three vehicles left, everything returned to calm, leaving only the faint smell of urine in the house, seeming to tell of the tragedy that had occurred!

Of course, these men also didn't know they were being followed.

Maybe they were used to being arrogant, or maybe they didn't think anyone here could harm them. They hadn't considered it at all.

On the other side, the reporter's call with the couple had been suddenly cut off. He tried calling back several times, but the phone just rang unanswered.

As a star reporter, and one investigating such a sensitive case, his mind immediately filled with all sorts of political conspiracies.

It concerned the presidential front-runner, Mr. Potter. They definitely had their methods. After hanging up, the star reporter immediately called two of his friends, then went to a nearby police precinct and explained the situation—

He didn't describe how the case might involve the Potter family, only that a friend's call had suddenly cut out, and now they weren't answering.

He was very worried something had happened to his friend, and that they lived in an old Federal stock neighborhood, so he needed police assistance in case they had to break down the door.

The precinct immediately arranged for four officers to go with them to the missing girl's home. From the outside, the house was intact, with no signs of forced entry. They entered the house with the police's help.

The star reporter shouted the couple's names. Unfortunately, no one responded. When he got near the kitchen, he immediately smelled the strong odor of urine. He rushed over.

He saw a patch of urine on the floor, almost dry, giving off a strong smell.

This made him even more uneasy. No one urinates in their own kitchen, just... on the floor. And this house definitely had more than one bathroom. They could have used a toilet. Why on the floor?

The star reporter's years of professional knowledge began to boil over. In an instant, just a few seconds, he made a judgment.

Someone had died here. That's why he/she had become incontinent.

This meant the couple had been murdered.

This made him tense up. If the couple was murdered, would he be next?

He immediately told the police who had come with him, "I suspect they've been murdered."

A policeman walked over, smiling. He also seemed to smell the strange odor and covered his nose. "Someone peed in the sink?"

It sounded funny, but it had happened more than once in the Federation, and he'd seen it more than once in cases he handled.

People had also defecated in sinks, or on coffee tables. If they wanted to, someone would.

The reporter explained his thinking. The policeman also became grim. This was a light-skinned person's residential area, and they were all high-quality voters. If this blew up, it would be bad.

He immediately had someone call for backup, and also had someone check the phone line, since the reporter had said the line was cut.

There was indeed no signal. If it was a premeditated murder, the line would have to have been tampered with.

And it was true. Seven or eight minutes later, an officer brought back a "troubling" result: the phone line had been cut with a knife.

There were clear force marks and a clean cut. The murder case was established.

More police arrived. By questioning the community and surrounding residents, they learned that several cars had been here in the afternoon, as well as a "moving company." They seemed to have moved something, but others said they didn't see anything.

The star reporter was in a terrible mood. He didn't go back to his residence. Instead, he took his friends and went to a safe house of his own.

He also had a safe house.

In fact, it was less a "safe house" and more a small house he didn't live in often. He had bought it, and it was stocked with some canned goods, weapons, and ammunition.

As a star reporter, there were only a few ways to get famous. Report on news that stings the public conscience. Only then can you quickly get people's attention. And you could tell he was a man who liked risk.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have kept following up on this case after knowing it was related to a presidential candidate.

So he needed to prepare a temporary residence, to avoid his current home being attacked by one of the parties in his reports.

As he got close to his safe house, he had his friends leave. He wouldn't tell anyone where it was. This was a protective measure for himself.

Next, he needed to think about how to get this story out—

Only by getting it out could he survive. If he kept this as a secret, or as leverage, he was a dead man!

His choice saved his life. If he had gone home, he would have found the uninvited guests, and he would have met the same fate as the couple.

Caution and care allowed him to live.

Meanwhile, the bald "prosecutor" had already taken the two bodies to their disposal spot.

After all... they weren't professional gangsters. Their method of dealing with bodies was mainly to find a remote place and bury them.

Especially in the suburbs.

The suburbs of this era were far from safe. All kinds of wild animals would make anyone who bragged about camping in the wild regret it.

They drove slowly to their special spot and began to dig.

It took several men over twenty minutes to dig a deep pit. They threw the two bodies in and filled it back up with dirt.

If a gang knew about this, they would only laugh at how unprofessional they were. Because burial, no matter where, always leaves a chance of discovery.

Even if the probability is small, it's still possible.

A case like this had happened before in the Federation. A few hunters, while hunting coyotes, raided a den and found the remains of some bodies inside.

They reported it to the police. At first, they thought someone camping had been killed by coyotes. But after investigation, the police found the coyotes had discovered a freshly dug pit.

They dug it open and dragged the body out. Because of this, the police solved the case.

But if a gang handled it, they would just send the body to a pet store. Guaranteed not a trace would be found.

After all, there was no precedent for prosecutors looking for evidence in dog shit. Even if there was, the dog's stomach acid would render the evidence useless!

After dealing with the bodies, the men, panting, carried their shovels and left. Half an hour after they left, another group arrived. They came to the burial site, took photos, filmed, and then dug up multiple bodies, including the girl's, and some other skeletal remains of unknown origin.

After doing all this, they put the bodies back and quietly left.

Just as Senator Cleveland had said to Lance, they needed a president who could be controlled, not to just oust one president and replace him with another who was just as uncontrollable.

With a huge scandal like this, Mr. Potter, or rather, President Potter, would pose no threat to them.

That night, Lance found out what had happened. He subsequently called Senator Cleveland and explained the matter.

"The evidence we have now can prove this is directly related to Middle Potter. He also went to Mr. Potter's office that day."

"We have related proof that can indirectly show these are not isolated incidents."

Senator Cleveland was overjoyed to hear this!

"I knew it! You never disappoint with a job I give you!"

"Well done, Lance. This is a huge help. We've been wondering how to counterbalance Potter after he takes office. With your help, we now have leverage to negotiate with them!"

He thought for a moment. "Get prepared. Make multiple copies of the evidence and keep them safe. Then, give me some of the less important evidence, for example..."

He thought. "Photos of the killers meeting with his son, or being together."

As for the couple and their daughter?

No one cared.

(End of this chapter)