That devil, he couldn't see its face. In the memory, it is a huge and terrifying black shadow, oppressed on the body, living in the soul, unable to resist and difficult to eliminate, everything is painful and distorted under its envelope. It was once powerful enough to make him tremble and despair, but now, he suddenly saw its true colors-
It's just pieces of dead stinky meat. It was no different from the serial murderers he had solved, even weaker and more vulnerable.
Now, it and the memories it occupies can no longer hurt me. I thought it would be ridiculous. I was so young that I would go crazy and scream at night for so many years because of this third-rate stuff.
Stepping on the flesh and blood on the windowsill, he returned to the living room and picked up the blood-stained long-handled axe on the floor.
Jennifer seemed to finally wake up from sleepwalking. The little girl cried out in horror and ran towards her mother's hiding place.
The killing did not attack her or anyone else in this house. He always has a clear goal, only Hayden Korten is the only one.
He carried the axe and walked calmly to the entrance of the living room, holding the door handle carved in brass.
The helicopter that Leo and Rob took landed on the wide lawn of the courtyard. Police cars have surrounded the magnificent villa, and countless armed policemen are armed with guns, and sharp whistle sounds one after another.
After the routine shouting did not respond, the commando prepared to forcibly enter the villa. Leo found the person in charge of the scene among a group of police officers who were waiting and asked: "Is the suspect still inside?"
"It should be. We rushed to the scene within ten minutes of receiving the alarm and surrounded this independent building. I can guarantee that no one can come out of it without passing our sight." The police chief said.
Leo said: "Let me go in with the commando."
"This is too dangerous. The suspect has a lethal weapon..." After seeing the other side's incontrovertible expression, the sheriff compromised: "At least you have to wear a helmet and body armor."
"No." Leo strode up to the villa, and in the surprised gaze of a heavily armed commando, he reached out and grasped the carved brass doorknob.
The door was not locked, he opened it easily and walked in.
The smell of blood in the air was so suffocating, Leo frowned solemnly: According to the appearance of the suspect described by the reporter, he was almost certainly finished. But on the plane when he came, he roughly checked the male owner of the house, Owen Raymond, a successful and wealthy businessman with no criminal record and a happy family. He did not fall into the category of "the unlawful serial murderer" at all. Why did you kill him
Dozens of policemen rushed into the empty room from behind Leo, many of them blocked their mouth and nose with the back of their hands.
"... God, look on the window sill!" a policeman cried out.
Meat, internal organs, and broken bones were sprayed on the windowsill like a burst of water pipes. The nearby walls, floors and even the ceiling were splashed in dark red, and the stench exuded like poisonous gas fumigating the entire room.
A young policeman couldn't help but vomit.
Leo slowly walked to the window sill, standing beyond the edge of the pool of blood, looking at the half-open window sash. Outside, on the dark lawn facing the window, a human head opened his eyes and stared at the window sill, his distorted scarlet lips were completely frozen in the howling.
"Enjoyer..." Leo murmured, fully understanding the murderer's motive.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, this is a bloody revenge that even God can't stop even after twenty years of persistence and planning.
This is the ultimate target of the "serial killer killer".
"It really is that guy's usual style, including the ability to run away before the police arrive every time." Rob walked to Leo and said with a complex expression, "What are you going to do now?"
"Grab him, throw him into jail, again." The black-haired agent replied blankly.
Rob sighed silently. Deep down in his heart, there was such a gloomy expectation that after he escaped from prison, out of cherishment of freedom, he washed his hands in the golden basin and lived a normal life. However, reality slapped him mercilessly, and told him with blood and corpse what it means to change his nature and his nature is hard to change.
He patted his partner's shoulder comfortingly: "Then forget him completely, you are not the same at all."
Leo was silent, and his dark blue eyes became more and more unpredictable because of the collision and precipitation of many emotions. "Have you read one of his novels, "The Whispers Before Bed"?" He suddenly asked.
Rob was startled in a puzzled way, "No, when I want to read it, a series of his novels have been withdrawn from the office reading in an emergency."
"You can go and see," Leo said, then turned and left the murder scene.
The hot water from the shower head washed the blood stains, and the floor of the shower room was a shocking red. Standing barefoot in blood water, the contrast between red and white is sharp.
"Your bath towels and pajamas." Shanier leaned against the door of the bathroom with his arms in his arms, with cloth on his shoulders. There was a subtle, sordid, erotic scent in his expression.
He reached out his hand to turn off the faucet, and his well-proportioned slender body was looming in the white mist. He wiped the wet bangs behind his head with the palm of his hand, and said flatly: "You should learn to knock on the door first."
"Sorry, make it up." Shanier tapped his knuckles on the door panel twice with no sincerity. "Did you come out to get it, or I got it in?"
He opened the glass door and walked out calmly, pulling the bath towel from his shoulder and wiping the water droplets on his body. Shanier looked up and down greedily, and finally stopped on the metal pendant on his chest.
"Is this Rafael Stock's blood card?" He asked in a dull voice, and tentatively stretched his hand to the opponent's chest.
The final touch opened his wrist unceremoniously: "It doesn't belong to you anymore."
"But at least half of them belong to me!" Shanier's dark green, narrow eyes flashed a cold gloom, "You promised to go forty-six, won't you regret it?"
"Don't worry, I'm not as capricious as you are." He said, putting on brand-new blue CK underwear, and tied the band of the nightgown around his waist.
Shanier was suspicious by nature. Even if he heard him say this, his heart was still unstable, but he knew that this topic could only end here, and it was not a wise choice to anger the other party until their deal was fully concluded.
"I sent someone to the Per Se restaurant to pack up French food and eat it together while it's hot?" he said in a warm tone.
"You can eat it yourself, I have no appetite."
"... You don't seem to be in a good mood. I thought that after successfully killing someone you want to kill, even if you are not excited, you should feel relaxed and happy? Or, our'serial killer killer' Mr. A hobby of mourning for a killed prey?"
As he passed by, he strangled Shanier's throat: "Shut up, unless you want me to kill you now!" His impatient expression was cold and sharp, as if there was something cruel and fierce. The beast, restless under the handsome skin, is about to burst out. This made the latter feel his scalp numb, his heart throbbed, and he couldn't help but stick out the tip of his tongue to lick his dry lips—how dangerous, but how tempting! If you can put such a man under her body... Shanier can't dream about it, but at this moment, he actually feels that the attractiveness of the dollar is not so great.
If I voluntarily give up a small portion of what I deserve—such as millions of dollars—will he agree to have a one-night stand with me? Shanier flushed from the suffocation, panting for breath from the tingling of his lungs, but his fingers pierced through the lap of the other party's half-open nightgown.
To this guy who used his life to interpret "death under a peony, you can also be a ghost", I don't know if he should spurn or feel funny, let go, let the other party hold his throat and keep choking.
"Don't take my idea, little wolfdog." He teased Shanier's hair into a mess. "I have no interest in you."
Shanier managed to calm his breath, and asked unwillingly: "Then whom do you have sexual interest in, is that FBI?"
He admitted very simply: "Yes, I only have a sexual interest in him."
"He caught you and threw you into jail, and now he's still chasing you behind like a barking hound-even then you still have a sexual interest in him?"
"Can't it?" he asked, "Is there a contradiction between the two?"
"... I forgot again, you are a crazy killer who treats danger as fun." Shanier said frustratedly. You are impressed, even if your body is "bent", it is still upright and straight in your bones, so you are more interested, right."
"How to understand is your business. But I warn you one last time, don't interfere with my plan, otherwise—" Qing Qing revealed a bloody sneer, patted his cheek, and turned to the bedroom.
Shanier shuddered and yelled at his back in annoyance: "Don't worry! I'll go to Rex Island and wait for your call, go now! And you better not forget what I deserve A sum of money, otherwise—"
He slammed the door shut, blocking the second half of his threat in his throat.
"Someone meets him." Leo pointed to the screen and said to Rob, the scene shot by the street surveillance probe was playing on it. In the car."
It's a pity that the car windows are covered with a dark explosion-proof film. They can't see the inside of the car, so they can barely see the license plate number.
"Investigate this car." Rio told the technicians in the New York branch, "I want to know who the owner is and where it is now."
When using the surveillance system of the Department of Homeland Security to track the car, they encountered some difficulties. It changed the license plate halfway through, and slyly changed the route. They lost it several times, but finally found it back.
Leo looked at the owner's photo and related information displayed on the computer screen, and the memory on Luna Island immediately jumped into his mind: "Chanel Seville... it's him, no wonder."
"Who is it?" Rob asked curiously.
"A sinister jackal. The original gangster, since I was sent to prison eight years ago, has been holding grudges and waiting for an opportunity to retaliate. The time I was undercover on Luna Island, it was he who sold my identity to Young Yavre and killed him. I almost messed up the task."
"Why did he get into trouble with the finale?"
"He has always tried against him." Leo said in a simple and general way, but Rob saw disdain and irritation in his eyes, and immediately reacted: Well, a sinister love rival, no wonder a guy like Leo is calm and self-sufficient. Will show this look too.
"It's no wonder he is willing to take risks to kill him." Rob sighed with emotion.
"Look at it," Leo said coldly.
While talking, the technical staff of the Information Services Section has traced the car's current location. It is driving eastward from the Manhattan area along a certain highway, and it appears to be leaving New York from LaGuardia Airport.
"Let's go, catch them!" Leo grabbed the coat draped on the back of the chair and walked out of the room aggressively.
Rob hurried to catch up, "I think something is wrong, Leo, if it's really done, this time it's going too smoothly..."
"You're right, this may be a trap, but it may also be a trap, and then when we are hesitant, the opportunity just slipped away-remember what I taught you?"
"If the eleventh attack can catch the culprit, then the first ten mistakes are necessary."
"Very good boy, you will soon be alone." Leo said, leaping onto the standby helicopter while holding the door.
Rob immediately got in: "Want to get rid of me? There are no doors! We are golden partners."