Chapter 209 The Forgotten Clue
Kate pursed her lips, not responding immediately.
The two stood at the entrance of the apartment building, and the night breeze swept by, making the atmosphere slightly quiet.
"Do you always think this way?" Kate asked softly, her voice much softer than usual, "Do you always expect the worst in everything?"
"This isn't a thought, it's experience." Lynn's tone didn't fluctuate much, but it carried an undeniable cold hardness, "When you've seen enough danger and betrayal, you'll know that any relaxation can be fatal."
Kate looked at him, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes.
She knew Lynn's words made sense, but she also knew how exhausting and lonely such a life could be.
"Maybe you're right." Kate said softly, but then, the corners of her mouth curved slightly, "However, sometimes relaxing isn't necessarily a bad thing."
Lynn's gaze fell on her face, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just nodded, "Go back, make sure the door is locked."
"Thank you for walking me back." Kate smiled slightly, reaching out to open the apartment door, but before stepping in, she suddenly turned back to look at Lynn, "Lynn."
"What?"
"If one day, you need to relax." Kate's voice was soft, yet carried a meaningful frankness, "You know how to find me."
Lynn was slightly startled, but before he could answer, Kate had already turned and entered the building, the door closing softly, leaving only a silhouette.
Lynn stood at the doorway, quietly looking at the closed door.
His brows furrowed slightly, then relaxed.
He didn't know what Kate's words meant, perhaps just a casual remark, but this casual remark was like a seed, burying something lingering in his mind.
The next evening, after a full day of investigation, Lynnuncharacteristically called Kate.
He hadn't intended to explain much, only saying, "I'm near your place, I want to talk."
Kate was obviously surprised at first, but there was an almost imperceptible lightness in her voice on the other end of the phone, "Okay, come on up.
But don't expect me to have any luxurious dinner to entertain you."
Lynn hung up the phone and walked up to Kate's apartment building.
The dust on the red brick wall was particularly noticeable in the dim light.
Lynn noticed that Kate's apartment door had a new lock added since last night, which made him nod slightly.
When the door opened, Kate was wearing a loose dark gray sweater, holding a cup of hot tea, leaning against the doorframe, looking at him, "You're really direct, AgentLynn.
Please come in."
Lynn walked into the room and looked around.
Kate's apartment wasn't large, but it was warmly decorated, with several black and white photos hanging on the walls, one of which caught Lynn's attention — a family photo of three, a blonde little girl standing between two adults, smiling brightly.
Kate followed his gaze, gently putting down her teacup, "That's a photo of me when I was little."
"Your family?" Lynn asked, his gaze not leaving the photo.
"Yeah, my parents." Kate answered understatedly, but Lynn caught an almost imperceptible emotion in her tone.
He didn't press further, but turned around and sat on the sofa, "You don't seem like the kind of person who would casually let others into her home."
Kate smiled, handing him the teacup, "You're not a casual person, are you?"
Lynn took the teacup and took a sip.
The warmth of the tea slightly relaxed his nerves, which had been tense all day.
"That photo..." Lynn began, with a hint of probing in his voice, "It looks like you had a good relationship with your family."
Kate leaned on the other side of the sofa, her gaze drifting out the window, "Yeah, it was good back then."
Lynn was silent for a moment, knowing she had more to say, but needed time.
"Actually, that's one of the reasons I became a journalist." Kate finally spoke, her voice becoming soft and low.
Lynn looked up at her, waiting for her to continue.
"When I was little, our family wasn't wealthy, but we were very happy.
My dad was a high school teacher, and my mom was a community volunteer.
That photo was taken on my ninth birthday, right after we moved to a new city.
Everything seemed beautiful." Kate said softly, a nostalgic smile on her lips.
"But things changed." She paused, a hint of suppressed anger in her voice, "One day, my dad died in a car accident.
But the newspapers reported that he was drunk driving, and even suggested he might have ties to some criminal organization.
These were completely false, just stories fabricated by those journalists to attract readers."
Lynn frowned, "Did no one clarify these things for you?"
"Who would care?" Kate's smile held a hint of self-mockery, "The newspapers sold, public opinion was set, who would still care about the truth?
We tried to clarify, but those media outlets were unwilling to retract their reports.
My mother, to protect me, constantly sought help from lawyers, and even went on TV to defend my dad, but it was all in vain.
Once that label was affixed, it could never be torn off."
She stopped talking, taking a small sip of tea, as if using this brief action to calm her emotions.
"From then on, I swore that if I ever entered this industry, I would never be a journalist who distorts facts.
I would expose the truth and let people know that news isn't just headlines and stories; it also affects real people behind it." Kate looked up at Lynn, her eyes holding a firm yet complex emotion.
Lynn listened quietly, his own past unconsciously surfacing in his mind.
He understood this feeling; the pain of losing loved ones, coupled with societal misunderstanding, was a double wound.
He knew that such experiences would shape a person, making her stronger, and also colder.
"So," Lynn began, his tone less his usual coldness, with a touch more softness, "Is this why you're always willing to take risks, even putting yourself in danger?"
"Something like that." Kate chuckled slightly, but her smile held a hint of fatigue, "Maybe it's a kind of compensatory psychology.
I think if I can expose some real truths, even just once, it would be a small compensation for the injustices of my childhood."
Lynn nodded, looking down at the teacup in his hand.
He wanted to say something, but for a moment, he didn't know how to begin.
He rarely faced emotional issues like this, especially with someone as distinctly characterful as Kate.
"What about you?" Kate suddenly asked, her tone a little more relaxed, but her gaze very serious, "What made you choose the FBI?
I guess it's not just because you're good at catching bad guys, is it?"
Lynn smiled slightly, but his smile held a touch of bitterness, "Perhaps like you, out of a sense of responsibility.
I lost my parents when I was little, and George adopted me.
He was a Police, and I grew up watching him work, always feeling that upholding justice was something... someone had to do."
Kate nodded, "So you chose this path, even though it leaves you with almost no time for yourself."
"I'm used to it." Lynn's tone was flat, but a complex emotion flashed in his eyes.
Kate looked at him, then suddenly smiled, "You know, Lynn?
You look like someone wearing armor, but actually, I think deep down you're someone who craves genuine emotion more than anyone."
Lynn paused, then shook his head, "You're analyzing me again."
"Occupational hazard." Kate said softly, a hint of teasing in her eyes.
A brief silence fell in the room, but it didn't feel awkward; instead, it carried a subtle calm.
The wind outside the window gently tapped against the glass, and the lamplight cast warm shadows between the two.
"Thank you for telling me this." Lynn finally spoke, his voice low and sincere.
Kate looked up at him, smiling slightly, "I thought, if it were you, maybe you'd understand."
Lynn didn't answer, but his gaze told Kate that he indeed understood.
They might be two completely different people, but their heavy pasts created an ineffable resonance between them.
As Lynn stood up to leave, Kate walked to the door, leaning against the doorframe, looking at him, "Lynn."
"What?"
"Next time you come, I'll prepare dinner." Kate said with a smile, her tone light.
Lynn raised an eyebrow, "Are you inviting me, or giving me an order?"
"Whatever you want to interpret." Kate waved at him, a meaningful light in her eyes.
Lynn sat in the FBI Headquarters' archives, surrounded by heavy filing cabinets and paper files. Dim yellow light spilled from above, illuminating an old case file on the desk. The cover read: "Miller, Karl - Car Accident Case."
His fingertips traced the file's cover, paused for a moment, then opened the dossier. The file emitted a musty odor, and the edges of the paper had yellowed, but the handwriting on it was still clear. The accident time, location, witness records, and investigation report were all neatly arranged.
Lynn's gaze moved quickly over the report. His hand constantly flipped through pages, unwilling to miss any detail. He wasn't good at handling personal emotional issues, but he knew that Kate's past was an indelible pain for her. And he vaguely felt that there might be some truth hidden behind this case that Kate didn't yet know.
"Miller, Karl," Lynn murmured the name, as if trying to engrave it in his mind. He then quickly skimmed the initial description of the case.
"On July 14, 2003, Karl Miller, driving an old blue Buick, collided with a truck at an intersection in Brooklyn. He died on the spot."
He frowned slightly; such a seemingly simple description always made him feel like something was missing. Continuing to flip the pages, he quickly saw the accident scene photos: the blue Buick was almost completely flattened, while the truck only had slight damage to its front bumper. In the photos, the driver's blood blurred the windshield, a scene both tragic and chaotic.
"The truck driver's statement..." Lynn muttered softly, his finger turning to the relevant record.
The truck driver, Alvin Clark, claimed at the time that he saw the Buick run a red light at an extremely high speed, with no signs of slowing down. The truck had already braked, but there was no time to avoid it.
Lynn stared at this statement, his frown deepening. He vaguely felt something was amiss but couldn't pinpoint it immediately. He continued to flip through until an alcohol test report caught his eye.
"Karl Miller's blood alcohol content: 0.12%."
Lynn stared at the text, a premonition of unease rising within him. His intuition told him that this alcohol report might be the key to the problem.
"How's the archive looking?" A deep voice came from behind, pulling Lynn's thoughts back.
He turned to see Hans standing at the archive room door, holding a cup of coffee, raising an eyebrow at him.
"When did you start taking an interest in old cold cases?" Hans walked in, placed the coffee on the table, and casually glanced at the file. "A car accident? That's not like your style, Lynn."
"Personal reasons." Lynn didn't explain further, instead continuing to peruse the files.
Hans raised an eyebrow, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but he didn't press further. He pulled out a chair and sat down, staring at the file in Lynn's hand. "So, what's special about this case?"
"It looks simple, but it's actually very strange." Lynnpointed to the alcohol test report. "Karl Miller, an ordinary high school teacher, lived a simple life with almost no negative records. Yet the report says he was drunk driving and speeding when the accident occurred."
"Perhaps he had a special reason that night?" Hansshrugged. "We've seen too many similar situations; anyone can suddenly lose control."
"The problem is..." Lynn pointed to the truck driver's statement. "This driver's testimony is too perfect. He accurately described the entire accident, but according to the scene photos, the impact position of the Buick shows that the truck was the main force of direct impact—it wasn't Karl Miller running the red light, but rather the truck clearly accelerated and hit the Buick."
Hans's expression became more serious. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "You think the truck driver is lying?"
"I can't be sure yet," Lynn said softly, his gaze still on the report. "But do you know what makes me most suspicious? This alcohol test report doesn't match any of the on-site evidence."
"How does it not match?"
"If he was really drunk driving, why were there no erratic driving marks? Look at the accident location—a small road with only two lanes. According to normal logic, he had no reason to be speeding there." Lynn looked up, a cold glint in his eyes. "Moreover, this report came from a private testing agency, not the official forensic department."
Hans raised an eyebrow, clearly realizing the seriousness of the problem. "Are you saying someone might have fabricated evidence?"
"That's just a guess." Lynn's voice was low and firm. "But this report is too suspicious. I need more information."
"What do you plan to do next?"
"Check the background of the truck driver at the time to see if he's connected to any forces. Also, I want to verify the Police officer who handled this case back then." Lynnclosed the file, his eyes cold. "If this truly was a deliberate incident, I will dig out the truth."
The next day, Lynn retrieved the file of the truck driver, Alvin Clark, from the FBI's internal database. Surprisingly, Clark filed for bankruptcy a year after the accident and then disappeared without a trace.
"What a coincidence," Lynn murmured to himself, sitting in his office. He listed Clark's address, phone number, and all related records, only to find that this information was long outdated.
Subsequently, he also pulled up the records of the Policeofficer who handled the car accident case at the time. The file showed that the case was handled by an old Policeofficer named Frank Cowles, but Lynn quickly discovered that Cowles applied for early retirement within three months of the accident, citing "health reasons."
"Both key figures disappeared so cleanly?" Lynn rubbed his brow, feeling more and more that there was something fishy behind this case.
He dialed a number, and soon, Hans's voice came from the other end, "Found anything?"
"The truck driver disappeared, and the Police officer who handled the case retired early," Lynn replied briefly. "But I have a feeling that these people might have been influenced by some external force."
"Do you want me to send someone to investigate?" Hansasked.
"No," Lynn said gravely. "I'll handle this myself for now. Too much action might tip them off."
After hanging up the phone, Lynn stared at the old photo of the truck driver on his computer screen for a few seconds, then got up and left his office. He knew that to find the truth, he had to go to the scene and re-investigate the key locations from that year.
Late that night, Lynn drove to the intersection where the car accident occurred. Although many years had passed, the layout of this area hadn't changed much. The street was still narrow, flanked by a few old grocery stores and restaurants, with only a few dim streetlights visible occasionally.
He stood at the intersection, closed his eyes, and tried to reconstruct the scene in his mind: the truck coming from the north, the Buick entering from the east, the two vehicles colliding in the center of the intersection. The witness testimony mentioned the truck braking early, but combined with the photos, the angle and force of the Buick's impact seemed more like the truck suddenly accelerated.
"There's simply not enough space here for the truck driver to brake," Lynn murmured. He stood still, his gaze sweeping over every detail of the intersection, trying to find forgotten clues.
Just then, his gaze fell on an old surveillance camera. It hung on one side of the street, clearly abandoned, but Lynn knew that the data stored by such cameras might be preserved in archives or other places.
"Perhaps, this is the breakthrough," Lynn murmured softly, then turned and left.
He didn't know what he would find, but he knew that he had already embarked on this path to truth and would never turn back.
After leaving the accident scene, Lynn immediately contacted the FBI's technical department. He needed someone to track down the records from the surveillance camera installed at the accident site back then. Although many years had passed, he knew that some data, even if buried in the corner of an archive, might not have truly disappeared completely.
Chapter 210 His Game is Over
The next morning, Lynn sat in the FBI technical laboratory, in front of a screen where a technician was rapidly typing on the keyboard.
The screen displayed strings of complex data and records.
The technician, named Tony, was Lynn's long-trusted technical support.
He pushed up the glasses on his nose, his gaze focused, and as he operated, he said to Lynn, "You really picked a tough one.
This camera was indeed installed by the municipality, but the storage equipment back then was quite ancient, and most of the recordings were stored on physical tapes.
It's already a miracle that we found them."
"I don't need miracles," Lynn said in a low, calm, and firm voice, "Just tell me if there's any way to find that footage."
Tony didn't answer, but continued to operate, and a few minutes later, a hint of excited smile appeared on his face: "Wait, I think I have a lead—the municipal database still has archived records for this camera."
He sped up his typing, his eyes behind his glasses fixed on the screen, "The storage tape of the recording was once transferred to an archive center in Brooklyn.
Although I don't know if it's still there, at least there's some hope."
Lynn nodded, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes, "Send me the address of the archive center."
"It's already on your phone." Tony stopped his fingers and looked at Lynn, "But Lynn, after so many years, the possibility of finding the footage is very low.
Even if you find it, the quality of those images might not provide any key evidence."
"Let me be the judge of that." Lynn's voice showed no waver.
He stood up and turned to leave the technical room.
A few hours later, Lynn's car stopped outside an old archive center in Brooklyn.
The building looked dilapidated, the bricks of the outer wall were somewhat eroded by wind and rain, and the sign at the entrance was already rusty, but the lights at the entrance were still on, indicating that it was still in operation.
Lynn walked into the archive center and found the old man in charge of managing the archives.
The old man was about seventy years old, wearing thick reading glasses, and when he heard Lynn's request, he showed a slightly surprised expression.
"Tapes from 2003?" the old man mumbled, looking down and flipping through a thick ledger, "Such old archives are probably all sent to cold storage.
But you're lucky, we still have some tapes here that haven't been cleared out."
Lynn nodded, his tone carrying a hint of urgency: "I need to see those recordings as soon as possible."
The old man led him to the underground storage room, opened a heavy iron door, and inside was a room piled high with cardboard boxes and tapes.
Lynn frowned, but didn't complain, instead rolling up his sleeves and starting to search according to the archive numbers.
After more than an hour of searching, Lynn finally found a tape labeled "July 14, 2003" in a pile of old cardboard boxes.
He picked up the tape, his heart beating a little faster, but he quickly calmed his emotions and took the tape to the archive room's player.
When the playback began, what Lynn saw was a blurry, grayscale image.
The camera's resolution was very low, the image quality was mottled and even had some noise.
But as the picture was adjusted, he quickly recognized the intersection where the car accident occurred.
Lynn stared at the screen without blinking, his eyes as sharp as a hawk.
He waited quietly, the street in the footage was unusually calm, with only a few pedestrians occasionally walking by.
Then, it happened.
In the footage, a blue Buick slowly drove in from the right side of the screen.
Its speed was not fast, even appearing somewhat cautious.
At the same time, a truck appeared from the other side.
The truck's speed was much faster than the Buick's, and it showed no signs of slowing down.
Lynn held his breath.
He watched as the truck drove directly towards the Buick, and then a violent collision occurred in the footage.
The blue Buick was hit by the truck, spun a full circle, and crashed heavily into a pillar at the intersection.
He kept his eyes fixed on the truck's movements and found that the truck showed no signs of braking in the few seconds before the impact, but rather seemed to deliberately accelerate into the collision.
"The truck driver lied," Lynn muttered to himself, his gaze as cold as ice.
He rewound the footage, slowed it down, and carefully observed the front of the truck.
Just as the footage was slowed to its limit, he captured some details: there was a faint logo on the front of the truck, which looked like the name of a transportation company.
Lynn quickly paused the footage and took a photo of the logo.
His intuition told him that this transportation company might have an intricate connection to this car accident.
Upon returning to FBI Headquarters, Lynn immediately gave the photo to Tony, asking him to trace the company's background.
A few hours later, Tony sent back a shocking result.
"This company is called 'West Transport,' a small freight company that has already been dissolved," Tony's tone became serious, "But according to its registration records, this company was then affiliated with a larger group—the Kelo Corporation."
"Kelo Corporation?" Lynn frowned, he was not unfamiliar with this name.
This was a large logistics enterprise, but in some circles, its name was often associated with illegal transactions and money laundering.
"Even more interesting," Tony continued, his eyes gleaming, "In 2003, the Kelo Corporation was undergoing an internal investigation.
During that time, rumors of their employees being involved in drug trafficking were rampant."
Lynn's brow furrowed even deeper.
He quickly reviewed the relevant material and found that the Kelo Corporation had indeed been accused of involvement in illegal transactions in 2003, and this investigation was ultimately shelved due to "insufficient evidence."
"This car accident might not just be an accident," Lynnwhispered, his gaze somber, "The Kelo Corporation likely wanted to eliminate someone, or hide something, and Karl Miller might just be an innocent victim."
"What's next?" Tony asked.
"Investigate," Lynn's tone was as cold as ice, "I want to know all the connections between the Kelo Corporationand this case back then.
And the truck driver, Alvin Clark, he's not a coincidence, I want to know where he went."
As the investigation deepened, Lynn gradually pieced together more clues.
Karl Miller was then involved in a school community volunteer project, and this project unintentionally came into contact with some transaction records related to the Kelo Corporation.
Although these records were not publicly disclosed, Lynnguessed that Karl might have discovered some secrets.
"This is not an accident," Lynn stood by the office window, whispering.
His fists clenched, and Kate's stubborn face appeared in his mind.
Lynn's investigation was entering deeper waters.
The relationships behind the Kelo Corporation were intricately intertwined, and the disappearance of the truck driver, Alvin Clark, also seemed to be no coincidence.
As more information was unearthed, Lynn gradually discovered the tip of the iceberg of this case.
Late one night a week later, Lynn sat in a private archive room at FBI Headquarters, surrounded by piles of documents, surveillance footage screenshots, and clue organization charts.
Every detail was repeatedly analyzed by him.
One photo on the screen was particularly striking: a young man in a suit, his hair meticulously combed, standing in the center of a lavish party, holding a champagne glass.
His smile carried a certain sense of superiority, as if the entire World was in his hands.
The Master of this photo was Matthew Harrock.
Lynn pressed his finger on the photo, his gaze as sharp as a knife.
Matthew Harrock, a name that seemed unremarkable at first listen, but Lynn had unearthed some intriguing things from the Kelo Corporation's archives.
Matthew was the only son of the Kelo Corporation's founder, a typical "rich second generation."
According to the archives, he was not only the future heir of the company but also had a minor reputation due to various scandals—excessive drinking at parties, illegal street racing, and even involvement in an undisclosed assault case.
Each time, he walked away unscathed.
"What does this person have to do with the car accident?" Lynn muttered to himself, flipping through the documents, continuing to search for more clues.
Tony's voice came through the earpiece: "Lynn, I found something new, you absolutely have to hear this."
"Speak."
"Remember the truck driver, Alvin Clark?" Tony said, his voice filled with excitement, "I tracked down an unreleased transcript, recorded within two days after the accident in 2003.
At that time, Clark claimed he was 'threatened' into silence.
And the person who threatened him... was Matthew Harrock."
Lynn's eyes instantly sharpened, "Are you sure?"
"Confirmed," Tony said with certainty. "Clark mentioned in his statement that Harrock told him to 'hit that car' and warned him that if he dared to speak, he and his family would disappear."
"Why didn't this statement enter a formal investigation?" Lynn asked, a hint of undetectable anger in his voice.
"Good question," Tony continued. "Because it was suppressed by the officer in charge at the time—FrankCowles. Cowles subsequently resigned and moved to Florida with a generous 'retirement package.' And Clark… you know, he completely disappeared."
Lynn leaned back in his chair, his mind quickly sorting through the clues. All the evidence pointed to an undeniable fact—Matthew Harrock used the resources of the Kelo Corporation to create an "accidental" car crash to cover up certain secrets, and Kate's father, Karl Miller, unfortunately became an innocent victim.
"Why did Matthew kill Karl?" Lynn murmured, vaguely sensing that there was more hidden behind this car crash.
"Perhaps Karl had something he didn't want people to know," Tony speculated. "Maybe it was an illegal transaction related to the Kelo Corporation?"
Lynn was silent for a few seconds, then stood up. "Continue to track Matthew Harrock's whereabouts. I want to know where he is now. Also, send me FrankCowles's address."
"Understood, the address will be on your phone shortly."
Lynn hung up the call, tidied the documents on his desk, then picked up his coat and walked towards the door. His steps were steady and powerful, and his face held a grim determination.
Two days later, in front of a luxurious beachfront Villa in Florida, Lynn stood at the door and pressed the doorbell. The sound of the doorbell was particularly harsh in the quiet night.
A few minutes later, a white-haired man opened the door. His face was full of the marks of time, but his eyes still held a hint of vigilance.
"Frank Cowles?" Lynn asked, his voice low and calm.
The old man narrowed his eyes, his voice tinged with unease. "Who are you?"
"FBI." Lynn showed his ID, then strode into the house, giving the other party no chance to refuse.
Cowles was clearly intimidated by his presence and retreated a few steps. "I retired a long time ago… Whatever you want to ask, I don't know anything."
Lynn stood in the center of the living room, his gaze coldly fixed on him. "You know why I'm here, Cowles."
"I… I don't know what you're talking about." Cowles's voice trembled, and his eyes began to dart around.
"The car crash in 2003," Lynn said directly. "You were in charge of that case, but you suppressed a crucial statement. Why?"
Cowles's face instantly turned pale. He opened his mouth but couldn't speak.
"I know you took money from Matthew Harrock," Lynnpressed closer, his tone even colder. "I know you helped him cover up the truth, letting an innocent person die in vain. And now, I want you to tell me everything."
Cowles wiped the sweat from his forehead, his voice beginning to tremble. "I had no choice… The Harrock family's power is too great. They threatened me. If I didn't cooperate, my family and I would be in danger."
"So you chose silence." Lynn's voice was as sharp as ice. "You let an innocent family suffer immense pain, while you took dirty money and hid here enjoying comfort."
"I…" Cowles lowered his head, a hint of pleading in his voice. "Do you think I didn't struggle? But they are too terrifying, no one can fight them!"
"Now someone can," Lynn said coldly. "Tell me, what did Matthew Harrock make Clark do? Why did he kill KarlMiller?"
Cowles was silent for a moment, then finally sighed. "KarlMiller was involved in a community volunteer project at the time. He accidentally discovered a batch of financial documents related to the Kelo Corporation. Those documents recorded the flow of illegal funds. Matthew was afraid these things would be exposed, so he ordered Karl to be killed, making the car crash look like an accident."
Lynn's fist tightened, his gaze as cold as a blade. He had already obtained the truth he needed, and now, he had only one goal—to make Matthew Harrock pay for his crimes.
"You better hope these words are true, Cowles," Lynn said finally, turning to leave. "Otherwise, I'll be the first to make you pay."
Night enveloped the streets of Brooklyn, the sky low and oppressive, as if even the stars were waiting for a storm. Lynn's SUV was parked in the FBI Headquarters' underground parking lot. He slammed on the brake, the engine roared lowly, then died.
The air inside the car was suffocatingly heavy. On the passenger seat lay Matthew Harrock's file folder, a thick stack of documents, each page marked with his crimes. These documents were not mere accusations but cold evidence, connected to the demise of an innocent life.
Lynn picked up the file, his fingers slowly tracing the cover, his eyes as cold as the winter night wind. The scene of Matthew's arrest still echoed in his mind.
Hours earlier, he had led a reinforcement team into the luxurious club where Matthew was hosting a private party. The lights were dazzling, the music deafening, and the elegantly dressed guests held their wine glasses, intoxicated by the false prosperity. Matthew, like a king on high, stood in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by a crowd, his smile unbridled.
The moment Lynn and the Agents appeared, the entire club plunged into chaos. Guests screamed and scattered, while Matthew showed a brief moment of surprise, but soon, he regained his typical arrogant expression.
"Agent Lynn," Matthew slightly raised his chin, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "You're really making a grand entrance. What is this? Breaking into a private party? Forcibly arresting someone without a search warrant? This is illegal."
"We have sufficient reason," Lynn responded coldly, his gaze piercing Matthew's eyes like a knife. "And we have evidence. Matthew Harrock, you are formally arrested on suspicion of murder and organizing illegal transactions."
Matthew's smile gradually stiffened, a flicker of panic in his eyes, but it was quickly forced back. He took a step back, trying to defuse the crisis with a flippant tone. "This is just a misunderstanding, Agent Lynn. You've arrested the wrong person. I'm a businessman, a law-abiding citizen."
Lynn didn't waste time arguing with him. Instead, he waved his hand coldly. "Take him away."
When the handcuffs clicked on Matthew's wrists, his face turned pale, but he still tried to struggle. "Do you know who my father is? Do you know how much influence the Kelo Corporation has? If you dare touch me, you won't be able to bear the consequences!"
Lynn didn't respond. He just stared at Matthew, his gaze as indifferent as if he were looking at a walking corpse. Matthew tried to threaten him with words, but Lynn had never been interested in any of that. He simply used silence to tell Matthew that his game was over.
At this moment, Lynn stood outside the one-way glass of the interrogation room, his gaze fixed on Matthew inside. Matthew no longer had the arrogant demeanor he displayed at the party. He sat at the table, his hands cuffed, a thin layer of cold sweat on his face.
Only one light bulb was on in the interrogation room, casting Matthew's long shadow, like an invisible shackle pressing down on him.
"He's already sweating," Hans said, standing beside Lynn, a touch of dark humor in his voice. "I guess you haven't really started to scare him yet?"
"Not yet," Lynn said calmly, his fingers slowly tapping the glass. "People like Matthew have never experienced true fear. He thinks money and connections can make him omnipotent, but today, we will make him understand that the law is not something he can buy off."
Hans nodded. "We have verified all the evidence, including Clark's statement, the surveillance footage of the car crash, and Frank Cowles's testimony. As long as Matthew confesses, the jury will not hesitate to find him guilty."
Lynn nodded, said nothing more, and pushed open the door to enter the interrogation room.
Chapter 211 Aggressive
Matthew looked up at Lynn, his face still maintaining a semblance of calm, but his confidence already seemed exceptionally weak. His hands unconsciously rubbed against the tabletop, his knuckles slightly white from the effort.
"Agent Lynn," Matthew began, trying to regain his former arrogance, but his voice betrayed his unease, "I hope you understand, this is all a misunderstanding."
Lynn sat opposite him, holding a thick file, which he dropped onto the table with a dull thud. He did not speak immediately, but stared at Matthew with that silent pressure.
"These are all about you," Lynn finally spoke, his tone icy, "The Kelo Corporation's illegal transaction records, the truck driver Alvin Clark's statement, and the surveillance footage from the accident scene. Every piece of evidence points to the same conclusion—you intentionally murdered Karl Miller."
Matthew's face changed, but he still tried to refute, "This is absurd! What evidence do you have to prove this is related to me? You're just looking for a scapegoat!"
Lynn ignored his defense, instead opening the file and pulling out a photograph—it was the truck's front emblem captured in the surveillance footage, clearly showing the words "West Transport."
"This is the truck's emblem, and this company was affiliated with the Kelo Corporation at the time," Lynnsaid coldly, "More importantly, Alvin Clark's statement clearly states that he was instructed by you to intentionally collide with Karl Miller's car."
"Clark is a criminal! What he says isn't credible at all!" Matthew's voice suddenly rose, trying to cover his inner fear with anger.
"He is indeed a criminal," Lynn's gaze did not waver in the slightest, "And you, are his employer."
Matthew opened his mouth but could not speak. His body began to lean slightly forward, as if trying to overpower Lynn with his presence, but Lynn gave him no opportunity.
"Karl Miller had discovered the flow of the Kelo Corporation's illegal funds at that time," Lynn continued, his voice as sharp as a blade, "He was an ordinary person, completely unaware of how much trouble he had stumbled upon. And you, Matthew Harrock, you decided to solve the problem by killing him. With a car accident disguised as an 'accident.'"
"You have no evidence!" Matthew suddenly roared, his voice sharp to the point of being almost piercing.
Lynn leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed coldly on him, "We have all the evidence, Matthew. You can't escape."
The air in the interrogation room became exceptionally heavy, Matthew's breathing began to quicken, and cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He finally realized that he had nowhere to run.
"You won't understand..." he whispered, a hint of despair in his voice, "I was just following orders... the Group told me to do it. I'm just an executor!"
"Who told you to do this?" Lynn's gaze became even sharper, "Tell me, Matthew, perhaps it can still leave you a way out."
Matthew looked up, his gaze complex as he looked at Lynn, as if weighing whether he still had a chance to resist. But he quickly realized that Lynn would not give him any breathing room.
Finally, he lowered his head and said hoarsely: "It was... it was my father. He told me to get rid of Karl Miller. All the fund flows are related to the Group, if discovered, we would all be finished. He told me to make sure no clues were left..."
Lynn's expression did not change, but his fists clenched slightly. He knew that Matthew's confession not only confirmed his crime but also completely exposed the Kelo Corporation's darkness to the light.
"Very good," Lynn said coldly, "Your father won't escape either."
He stood up and turned to leave the interrogation room, while Matthew sat there dejectedly, having completely lost all his arrogance and pretense.
Lynn pushed open the door, Hans was already waiting for him outside, "How was it?"
"He confessed," Lynn said, a hint of cold weariness in his voice, "And, this is just the beginning."
As night fell, the lights of FBI Headquarters remained bright, appearing exceptionally isolated and cold. Lynnstood by the office window, overlooking the city at night through the glass. Matthew Harrock's confession had completely opened a path to the truth, and at the end of that path, it clearly pointed to his father—Richard Harrock.
Richard was not only the founder of the Kelo Corporationbut also a powerful business magnate. His name frequently appeared in many top social circles and business magazines, but behind this respectable facade, a cold, cruel mask was hidden. Lynn knew that bringing such a person to justice would undoubtedly be a tough battle.
"We have already gathered enough evidence," Hansstood behind him, his voice low but full of confidence, "Matthew's confession points to Richard, and we have found more problems in the Kelo Corporation's financial records. Illegal fund flows, money laundering records, and transaction contracts with several criminal organizations. Richard's hand has been exposed."
Lynn did not turn around, he just nodded, his gaze still fixed on the city lights, "The question is, will he surrender quietly?"
"Someone like him, never," Hans walked over to him and handed Lynn a document, "But we have already located his hiding place. Intelligence indicates that Richard moved to a private estate in the suburbs a few days ago; clearly, he knows the storm is approaching."
Lynn opened the document and saw aerial photographs of the estate. It was vast, surrounded by woods and high walls, like an isolated fortress.
"How is the defense there?" Lynn asked, his voice as calm as a general giving orders.
"Very tight," Hans replied, pointing to several marked spots on the photo, "The security system is top-notch, the estate is surrounded by cameras, and there's a team of mercenaries guarding it. These people aren't just for show—they're all trained, and they might even have military-grade weapons."
"This makes things more interesting," Lynn's lips curled into a cold smile, but his eyes remained sharp, "Notify all teams, operation tonight."
Hans nodded and turned to leave to arrange the mission, while Lynn sat back at his desk, meticulously organizing all the details of the case.
In the early hours of the morning, the FBI's operational team gathered in a dimly lit forest. Dozens of black SUVs were parked in a hidden location, their headlights off, only faint footsteps and whispers from earphones could be heard. Lynn stood at the front, dressed in tactical gear, holding a silenced pistol.
"We have two objectives," Lynn told everyone, his voice low and stern, "First, apprehend Richard Harrock; he must be alive. Second, ensure the safety of innocent personnel, but if resistance is encountered, return fire immediately."
Everyone nodded, no one said an unnecessary word. They knew that the goal of this mission was not just one person, but a crucial link in striking a vast criminal network.
Lynn glanced at his watch and ordered in a low voice: "Move out."
The team split into several groups, quickly infiltrating the woods surrounding the estate. Infrared detectors were installed on the estate's high walls, but the technical team had successfully hacked into the security system, disabling most of the surveillance equipment.
Lynn led his team silently towards the estate's main entrance. Hans's voice came through his earpiece: "Perimeter clear. There are two more guards to the right of the main gate."
"Received," Lynn raised his hand, signaling his team to provide cover, then darted to the entrance, his gun precisely firing two shots that directly hit the two guards' shoulders, incapacitating them.
"Continue to advance," Lynn whispered, and the team members quickly approached the gate, using special tools to pry open the lock.
The lights inside the estate were dim, but footsteps and voices could vaguely be heard from upstairs. Lynn quickly assessed the enemy's positions and led the team to split up. Their movements were swift and silent, like ghosts in the dark night.
Suddenly, a burst of gunfire came from deep within the estate, breaking the night's tranquility.
"The enemy has found us!" Hans's voice came through the earpiece, "There's a sniper on the third floor, be careful!"
Lynn quickly leaned against the wall and looked up at the third floor. His gaze caught a dark figure aiming a gun downwards. He unhesitatingly raised his gun, and a precise bullet hit the sniper's wrist, forcing the opponent to drop the weapon.
"Sniper dealt with," Lynn whispered, "Continue to advance."
He led his team up the stairs, quickly cleared several rooms, and finally arrived at a thick wooden door. Low voices arguing could be heard from inside the door; clearly, Richard was in there.
Lynn motioned for his team to wait, then kicked open the door. The sight inside made him pause slightly.
Richard Harrock sat in a chair in the center of the room, with two fully armed bodyguards standing beside him. There was no trace of panic on his face; instead, he wore an expression of calm disdain.
"You've finally arrived," Richard said slowly, his voice imbued with a chilling confidence. "I thought you'd be later."
"Stand up, Richard," Lynn's voice was devoid of emotion. "You're under arrest."
Richard didn't move, instead leaning back in the chair and saying unhurriedly, "Do you know what you're doing? I am the founder of Kelo Corporation. The people I know can open every door in this country for me. How much trouble will you bring upon yourselves by arresting me?"
"Do you know what you're saying?" Lynn stepped forward, his gun pointed at Richard's head. "You're not debating in a courtroom; you're pleading for your life. Stand up, don't make me repeat myself."
Richard stared at Lynn, a chilling glint flashing in his eyes, but he eventually rose slowly. His bodyguards attempted to move, but Lynn's team quickly subdued them.
"You'll regret this, Agent," Richard said in a low voice, a threat in his tone. "This isn't the end."
Lynn looked at him coldly, "You're right, this isn't the end. The end is when you stand in court and face the consequences for your crimes."
He cuffed Richard's wrists and led him out of the room.
At dawn, Lynn escorted Richard back to FBI Headquarters. Hans was waiting for him in the parking lot, and a smile appeared on his face when he saw Richard being led out of the car. "It seems we've won this round."
Lynn nodded, his gaze as calm as Water. "He still has too much he hasn't said, but he has nowhere left to run."
FBI Headquarters was bustling in the early morning, phones ringing constantly, Agents moving through the corridors, holding folders or headsets, their expressions serious. But the atmosphere in Lynn's office was even more somber than outside.
A newspaper lay open on his desk, the headline emblazoned: "Kelo Corporation Board of Directors Pressures FBI to Release Harrock Father and Son." Below the headline was a photo of Richard Harrock, still looking composed, as if even in captivity, no one could shake his kingdom.
Lynn held a cup of coffee, staring at the newspaper with no expression on his face. He had long anticipated that this storm would not end with the arrest of the Harrock father and son. In fact, it might have just begun.
"Have you seen the news?" Hans pushed open the door, also holding a newspaper. "These board members are really bold, openly protesting the FBI. This is much faster than I expected."
"They have no other choice," Lynn said calmly, setting down his coffee. "Kelo Corporation is their lifeline. Without the Harrock father and son, they're like losing their umbrella. These people know that if Richard and Matthew completely fall, their business empire will also collapse."
Hans sat down in a chair, his hands crossed over his chest. "Have they requested bail?"
"They have," Lynn nodded, opening his computer and pulling up a document. "Richard and Matthew's lawyers have already submitted a bail application, using a very clever reason—they claim there are loopholes in the FBI's arrest procedure, and some evidence was allegedly obtained illegally."
Hans snorted, "Typical delaying tactics. Do they think they can escape by exploiting legal loopholes?"
"This is a dual battle of public opinion and law," Lynn's gaze was calm. "They are not only trying to pressure us through legal procedures but also attempting to use the media to sway public opinion, making the outside world believe that the FBI is abusing its authority and suppressing Kelo Corporation."
"That's truly shameless," Hans frowned. "We have so much conclusive evidence—illegal fund flows, money laundering records, and Matthew's confession. Do they think these things can be easily erased?"
"Don't underestimate these people," Lynn's tone was grim. "More than half of these board members have connections with high-ranking political figures. The power of the media is enough to portray us as villains, and Richard will become their 'innocent victim.' If we can't completely defeat them in court, things will become very troublesome."
Hans was silent for a moment, then said, "So what's your plan?"
Lynn looked up, a cold glint in his eyes. "First, we need to ensure that all the evidence we have can withstand any legal scrutiny. I want you to take people to review every document to ensure there are no loopholes. Second, keep a close eye on Richard's legal team, especially their channels for contacting the outside world. Any acts of obstructing justice, record them immediately."
"Understood," Hans nodded, but still had some concerns. "But they have too many tricks. What if they bribe a judge, or use other methods—"
"We won't give them such an opportunity," Lynn said coldly. "Additionally, I have already contacted the Department of Justice, asking them to send a special person to monitor the progress of the case. Whether it's the board of directors or the Harrock family, they will pay the price."
Hans looked at Lynn, knowing that the coldness in his tone was not empty talk. They had been through too many such confrontations together, but this time, the situation was clearly more complex than before. Their opponents were not ordinary criminals, but an elite class with immense wealth and power.
A few days later, the FBI held a high-level hearing. Richard and Matthew Harrock's legal team was fully present, and representatives sent by the board of directors sat in the back row of the conference room. They wore expensive suits, their expressions confident and aloof, as if this was a game they were destined to win.
When Lynn walked into the conference room, all eyes focused on him. He wore a standard FBI uniform, his shoulders held straight, his gaze sharp and cold. Even facing these so-called elites, his presence was still intimidating.
The leader of the legal team was a middle-aged man named Victor Kahn. He was known for handling complex cases, especially skilled at clearing the names of the powerful. Victor offered a polite smile, stood up, and shook Lynn's hand, but Lynn only gave a cold handshake in return before sitting down.
"Agent Lynn," Victor began, his tone soft but provocative, "We acknowledge that this case has attracted significant public attention, but I hope the FBI will handle this matter fairly and justly, rather than being swayed by public opinion."
Lynn looked at him coldly, his voice deep and powerful, "Fairness and justice are precisely what we are doing. The crimes committed by Richard Harrock and Matthew Harrock do not need public opinion to push them; the evidence is sufficient to explain everything."
"But perhaps you haven't noticed," Victor smiled slightly, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "that the method of obtaining some evidence may not comply with procedure. For example, the surveillance footage, how was it retrieved? Was there a clear court order? If not, this could be illegal evidence."
"We have fully followed procedures," Lynn did not back down. "Every piece of evidence was legally authorized. You are welcome to inspect it, but I guarantee you will find no issues."
"I hope so," Victor nodded, clearly not intending to dwell on the matter here.
The meeting lasted two hours, with both sides engaging in a fierce exchange over the legality of the evidence. Victor's debating skills were indeed superb; he attempted to drag the case into procedural quagmire to slow down the FBI's progress.
But Lynn remained calm and composed throughout, each counterattack precise and powerful, rendering Victor's attacks ineffective.
After the meeting, Lynn walked out of the conference room and encountered the delegation from the board of directors. An elderly man among them stopped him, his tone carrying an undeniable authority, "Agent Lynn, I hope you understand that what you are doing could destroy a company of thousands of people."
Chapter 212 Invited Me
Lynn stopped, his gaze coldly sweeping over the man. "What I care about isn't your company; it's the truth. What you should be worried about isn't the future of your company, but yourselves."
The man's expression subtly changed, but he said nothing more, turning and leaving.
That evening, Lynn returned to his office, sitting at his desk to organize the next steps for the case.
He knew this battle wouldn't end easily, but his intuition told him that the Harrock family hadn't revealed all their trump cards yet.
He lowered his head and glanced at the folder on his desk, which contained the case records of Kate's father.
Although the core of the case already pointed to Richard, Lynn always felt an uneasy sensation in his heart.
He knew that the Harrock father and son were hiding more secrets, and these secrets might be even more terrifying than the crimes they had already uncovered.
"This isn't over yet," Lynn murmured, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
His fists slowly clenched, as if gathering strength for the battle ahead.
A few days later.
The atmosphere in the courtroom was so heavy that it felt as if the air itself had stopped flowing.
Rows of thick wooden benches lined the room, and the people in the audience held their breath, each person seemingly waiting for a drama about to unfold.
At the very front of the courtroom, Matthew Harrock and his father Richard sat side by side.
Their figures stood out particularly, one a rich second-generation heir enveloped in power and money, the other a corporate giant manipulating everything from behind the scenes.
The judge sat on the bench, striking the gavel, his deep voice echoing through the courtroom: "The case of Matthew Harrock and Richard Harrock is now in session."
Lynn sat next to the plaintiff's table, arranging the documents on the table.
He wore a dark suit, his back straight, his gaze calm and focused.
Kate sat in a corner of the back row of the audience, clutching her handbag tightly, her face pale.
Although she tried her best to remain composed, the tears in her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil.
"Defense counsel, please speak," the judge said coldly.
Victor Kahn stood up, still composed, a faint smile on his face, his tone polite but with a subtle aggression: "Your Honor, my clients, Matthew Harrock and Richard Harrock, as core figures of the Kelo Corporation, have been unjustly accused in this case.
Whether the prosecution's evidence is direct enough remains debatable."
He looked around, a hint of disdain in his eyes, "More importantly, our social system cannot be swayed by emotion; it must be based on fairness and justice."
Lynn snorted, his voice so low that almost only the person next to him could hear it.
He stood up, holding a document, and nodded to the judge: "Your Honor, I will prove that every accusation in this case is based on solid evidence, and emotion has never been our weapon—the truth is."
The judge nodded, "The prosecution may begin its statement."
Lynn walked to the center of the courtroom, holding several key documents.
His piercing gaze swept over everyone in the courtroom, finally resting on Matthew and Richard.
At that moment, the entire courtroom fell silent, only Lynn's deep, powerful voice could be heard.
"Matthew Harrock and Richard Harrock have committed a series of heinous crimes.
They not only manipulated illicit fund flows and engaged in large-scale money laundering, but more importantly, their crimes directly led to the demise of an innocent life—Carl Miller."
Kate's body trembled slightly; she gripped her handbag tightly, as if that was the only way to keep herself from making any sound.
Lynn continued: "Let us go back to 2003.
Carl Miller was an ordinary high school teacher, a father.
He participated in a community volunteer project, trying to create a better educational environment for local children.
However, he inadvertently came across financial documents related to the Kelo Corporation, which exposed a large amount of illicit funds."
He paused here, his gaze growing sharper, "And Matthew Harrock, fearing that these documents would expose his and his father's crimes, ordered the truck driver Alvin Clark to stage a car accident disguised as an 'accident,' taking Carl Miller's life."
Lynn's words stirred a low murmur in the courtroom; people in the audience whispered, their faces filled with shock and anger.
Kate's eyes were already brimming with tears; she bit her lip hard, forcing herself not to make any sound, but her shoulders trembled slightly.
Lynn turned and pointed to the evidence table, "This is the confession of the truck driver Alvin Clark; he described in detail how Matthew threatened him to carry out this crime.
Furthermore, here is the surveillance footage from the accident scene, which clearly shows that the truck deliberately accelerated and crashed into Carl's vehicle.
And all of this was due to Matthew Harrock's command."
He turned his gaze to Matthew, his voice deep and cold: "This is the truth, Matthew.
Your single command destroyed a family."
Matthew's face was ashen, his lips trembling slightly.
He tried to speak in defense, but his voice seemed to be stuck in his throat, unable to utter any sound.
Victor Kahn tried to interrupt Lynn's statement, "Your Honor, I object—"
But Lynn didn't give him a chance; his voice grew firmer: "Objection overruled.
This is not only what I state, but also the truth pointed to by every piece of evidence."
He turned to look at Richard Harrock, his gaze chillingly cold, "As for Richard Harrock, he is not only an accomplice in this crime but also the controller of the entire criminal empire.
Every illicit transaction, every dirty fund flow of the Kelo Corporation, is inextricably linked to him.
He is the king of this kingdom of evil, and Matthew is merely his pawn."
Lynn's words were like a heavy hammer, each word echoing in the courtroom air.
The entire hall fell into a deathly silence; everyone held their breath.
Kate could no longer control herself; her tears finally fell, dripping onto her handbag on her lap.
She looked up, her gaze through blurred tears fixed on Lynn.
His back was straight and firm, like a wall that would never fall.
Lynn finally walked back to his seat, his voice deep but full of power: "Justice may be delayed, but it is never absent.
Today, we must let the truth be known to the world, so that those innocent victims may rest in peace."
After the trial, Kate stood in the corridor outside the courtroom, leaning against the wall, tears still flowing uncontrollably.
She tried to calm her breathing, but everything seemed to overwhelm her.
Her father's cause of death, the truth behind it, and the past she could never change, surged towards her like a tide.
"Kate," Lynn's voice came from behind her.
She slowly turned around and saw Lynn standing not far away, his expression complex and gentle.
He approached her, his eyes revealing a subtle concern.
Kate sniffled, wiping away the tears on her face with the back of her hand, "Thank you, Lynn... thank you for bringing the truth to light."
Lynn nodded slightly, his voice deep and gentle, "It's what I should do."
Kate looked at him, complex emotions flickering in her eyes, "For years, I've been chasing the truth, trying to find an explanation for all that pain.
But when the truth was laid bare... I found it was even heavier than I imagined."
Lynn said nothing; he simply reached out and gently patted her shoulder.
He knew that any words of comfort at this moment would seem pale and powerless, but he also knew that Kate was stronger than anyone.
"Kate, your father paid the price for justice, and what we owe him is to ensure that such crimes do not happen again," Lynn's voice was deep and powerful, like a promise.
Kate nodded, tears still welling in her eyes, but her gaze became firm, "I will continue my work, exposing those who try to cover up the truth.
Just like you."
Lynn showed a faint smile, then turned and left.
His back appeared tall and resolute in the sunlight, and Kate stood rooted to the spot, watching him, a feeling of unprecedented respect and gratitude welling up in her heart.
That night, the streets of Brooklyn were still bustling, lights casting blurry reflections on the wet ground.
Lynn leaned against his car door, looking up at the red-brick apartment building not far away.
He held a bottle of red wine in his hand, hesitated for a second in the cold wind, then raised his hand and pressed Kate's doorbell.
The doorbell rang a few times, and soon, light footsteps approached.
The door opened, revealing Kate standing in the doorway with a warm smile.
She had changed out of her journalist's signature trench coat and high heels, opting for a simple beige sweater and jeans.
Her entire demeanor seemed less professionally sharp and more domestically warm.
"Lynn, right on time," she said, stepping aside to let Lynnin, her tone light and teasing.
"I thought you might stand me up for some breaking case."
Lynn raised the red wine in his hand and smiled slightly, "I always have some time, don't I?"
Kate looked at him, seemingly surprised by his half-joking reply, then smiled.
"Come in, I just put the last dish on the table."
Lynn entered the apartment, and a warm, rich aroma enveloped him.
He looked around and noticed that Kate's apartment felt even more lived-in than his last visit.
Several dishes were already arranged on the kitchen table, and the soft glow of the candelabra reflected off the white plates; every detail seemed thoughtfully placed.
"Smells good," Lynn said, putting down the red wine and raising an eyebrow slightly as he looked at the dishes.
"I really didn't expect you to cook yourself."
Kate stood at the kitchen entrance, holding a freshly baked roasted chicken.
"What? Do you think I'm the type of workaholic who only orders takeout?"
"You certainly seem like it," Lynn replied calmly, a barely perceptible curve forming at the corner of his lips.
Kate exaggeratedly glared at him.
"You really don't know how to talk, Lynn.
But today, I'm going to change your mind."
She placed the roasted chicken in the center of the dining table, then retrieved a bottle of decanted wine from the kitchen, saying softly, "Sit down and try my cooking.
But I must warn you, no work-related questions at the table.
This is my territory."
Lynn sat down, looking at the dishes on the table, and nodded, "Alright, I'll listen to you."
Kate sat opposite him and poured him a glass of wine, her usual sharp expression softening into one of ease and cheerfulness.
"Try this; black pepper roasted chicken is my specialty."
Lynn cut a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth, chewing for a while.
His expression didn't change much, but he eventually nodded.
"It's indeed good."
Kate smiled triumphantly, "I knew it."
The two slowly ate, and the atmosphere was unexpectedly peaceful.
Lynn found that Kate at home was completely different from her persona as a journalist.
She was still sharp, but there was also a natural ease that made people relax.
Lynn had been somewhat hesitant about this private invitation, but at this moment, he felt a rare sense of ease.
"So, you cook often?" Lynn asked, his tone unusually casual.
"Not really often," Kate said, poking the vegetables on her plate with a fork.
"When work is busy, I do order takeout more often.
But sometimes, I need this sense of ritual.
Cooking is like giving myself a chance to breathe."
"Sounds good," Lynn nodded, but didn't continue the conversation.
Kate glanced at him, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"Lynn, do you rarely relax?
I feel like you're still tense right now."
"Occupational habit," Lynn said, putting down his knife and fork, his gaze calmly fixed on her.
"You're the same, aren't you?"
Kate smiled, not denying it.
"Perhaps.
But I want to try to change.
After all, life should feel like life."
Lynn didn't respond, but a hint of thoughtfulness appeared in his eyes.
After dinner, Kate stood up to clear the table.
Lynn rose to help, but Kate stopped him with a gesture.
"You're the guest today.
It's been a long time since I've entertained anyone, so let me enjoy this feeling."
Lynn didn't argue, simply leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching Kate efficiently clear the dishes.
He rarely saw this side of her—no journalistic sharpness, no toughness when facing threats, just a very domestic composure and authenticity.
"Lynn," Kate suddenly said while washing dishes, her voice much softer.
"Thank you."
Lynn paused slightly, "Thank me for what?"
Kate stopped her movements and turned to look at him, a complex emotion in her eyes.
"Thank you for bringing the truth to court.
Thank you for getting justice for my father."
Lynn didn't answer immediately, instead looking down at the floor as if weighing his words.
After a moment, he looked up, his voice low and sincere, "Kate, that's what I should do."
Kate smiled, her eyes glistening with tears, but she quickly lowered her head to continue washing dishes, as if not wanting Lynn to see her emotional fluctuation.
"But there's one thing I still don't understand," Kate suddenly said, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
"Why were you so persistent with this case?
It clearly went beyond your scope of work."
Lynn was silent for a moment, his body leaning slightly forward against the doorframe, his voice low but with a certain candidness.
"Perhaps it's because your father reminded me of certain people.
Those who paid a price for doing the right thing, they deserve a just outcome."
Kate stopped her movements, her gaze fixed on him.
"You've never mentioned your past.
You're always like a mystery."
"Perhaps some mysteries don't need to be solved," Lynn's tone was calm, but a deep complexity flashed in his eyes.
Kate didn't press, but smiled slightly, "Alright, then I won't ask.
Everyone has their own secrets."
Lynn nodded, as if satisfied with her answer.
Once everything was tidied up, Kate took a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, poured Lynn a glass, then sat on the sofa and gestured to the opposite seat.
"Sit down, the night isn't over yet."
Lynn took the glass and sat opposite her, taking a small sip of the drink.
"What are your plans?"
"No plans," Kate said with a smile, shaking her head.
"Just want to chat with you.
It's rare to see you relaxed, I have to cherish these moments."
Lynn chuckled softly, but didn't retort.
They talked for a long time, from work to life, from past to future, the conversation unexpectedly light and lengthy.
Kate's laughter occasionally echoed through the room, and while Lynn didn't say much, he uncharacteristically showed a few relaxed expressions.
It was late into the night when Lynn stood up to leave.
Kate stood at the door, watching his retreating back, and suddenly said, "Lynn."
Lynn turned his head, "What is it?"
Kate's gaze held a certain serious and gentle light.
"Sometimes, I feel like you carry too much.
Perhaps, you should give yourself a chance to try trusting others, relying on others."
Lynn paused, not answering, but his gaze softened slightly.
He nodded and turned to walk into the night.
Kate stood at the door, watching his figure fade into the distance, a complex emotion welling up in her heart.
The morning sun, filtered through thin clouds, spilled onto the streets, casting a gentle glow over the streets of Brooklyn.
A faint coolness permeated the air, but without the biting chill of winter, instead, it brought a refreshing clarity.
Lynn drove, the atmosphere in the car as quiet as ever.
His hands were on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
In the passenger seat, Kate silently looked out the window, holding a delicate bouquet of white chrysanthemums, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the flower stems.
"You didn't have to specially drive me to the cemetery," Kate finally spoke, her voice low and soft, as if afraid to break the delicate silence.
"Didn't you specially invite me?" Lynn's tone was calm, but carried a subtle warmth.
Kate tilted her head slightly to look at him, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Yes, I did specially invite you.
But I know you're busy, you always have more important things to do."
"This is very important," Lynn replied, his voice deep, yet so firm that Kate didn't know how to respond for a moment.
She lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on the flowers in her hand.
"To me, yes."
Silence fell in the car again, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional sound of wind from outside the window.
Lynn knew that today held significant meaning for Kate.
Since the case concluded, he had sensed an indescribable emotion in Kate's tone.
Justice had been served, but for her, this justice came too late, and this delayed justice could not fill the void of losing a loved one.