Chapter 2 Chapter One

The hardest part of the job isn't how dangerous it is.In fact, for Ian McCarthy—a detective who spent his teenage years in the most dangerous neighborhoods in town—"dangerous" wasn't even an actual term—but during off-duty Calls from dispatch are different, especially the kind that come to your bedroom early on a Saturday morning and can easily destroy an entire weekend.There's a saying about the bad guys that has been around for decades in the Pittsburgh Police Department's homicide squad: "They never work while you're at work." McCarthy struggled to get out of the warm bed while complaining, the awakened wife rolled over in disgust, she didn't ask anything - didn't ask if he was going to work or anything - always work, what else could there be Woolen cloth?McCarthy glanced at his wife, who had left him with a back, and said nothing, not even leaning over to kiss her.He put on his shirt and tied his tie as fast as he could. He didn't have time to shave, but he still had time to make a cup of instant coffee.

The weather is still as cold as the previous few days, as if wearing underwear that has been dehydrated but has not had time to dry. For Pittsburgh in February, the weather is not too bad, at least it can freeze the tip of the nose The cold weather has passed, but spring only exists in people's expectations.Unfortunately, McCarthy's 12-year-old Ford Mercury had a problem with the air-conditioning defroster, and he had to drive the windows halfway to keep the windshield in place in this cold, wet weather. Without being submerged in the fog, within a few minutes, his hands were as cold as the steering wheel that had been frozen all night—he alternately moved his hands close to the air conditioner vents to avoid freezing, while secretly making up his mind to get the car back next weekend. The Mercedes drove home—after all, he had been appointed as head of the robbery department, and now he was just waiting for a new contract from the bureau.

Twenty minutes later, the Ford Mercury drove off the suburban exit of Highway 139. According to the message from the dispatch center, the scene was in the woods one mile ahead.McCarthy parked his car in a clearing at the edge of the woods, which was already full—three patrol cars, a GMC Topkeek pickup, a Chrysler 300c, a '96 Toyota Camry, and a Chevrolet Pioneer, two police officers are pulling the second cordon at the edge of the forest—this is a forest of North American redwoods and metasequoia, even in winter, it is still very dense.Looking in from here, a cordon has been pulled in the woods thirty feet away from here, and two police officers can be seen guarding there—something is a little unusual.

McCarthy hung the gold police badge on the upper left pocket of his suit, nodded to the two uniformed officers, raised the cordon and walked into the woods.At the first cordon, the uniformed police officer told him that the scene had to go fifty feet further, beside a small river—to build two cordons in this inaccessible place, not to mention that today was the weekend—this It gave McCarthy a bad feeling. The scene was more lively than McCarthy had expected. There were two uniformed police officers, two plainclothes officers, and a man with a fishing rod—probably the one who discovered the body—and two on-site forensic officers in Tyvek protective suits were standing next to the body. Busy, they were careful, as if it was not a corpse, but a museum exhibit.Those guys are frighteningly serious when faced with inanimate "physical evidence" such as corpses, fibers, and DNA, but in fact they rarely help when solving crimes. You have to deal with living people--they may be favorites of prosecutors, but most detectives don't like them.

McCarthy glanced at the corpse on the ground. It was undoubtedly a woman. Her lower body was naked, and her panties were gone. There seemed to be something in her eye, which was too far away to see clearly. Other than that, it was nothing special, like ordinary rape. Killing—he didn't even see the blood. However, for some reason, the uneasiness in McCarthy's heart did not subside in the slightest. There is always something wrong. The taller of the two plainclothes detectives had already seen him from a distance, and McCarthy recognized his former partner, Jason Gregg—who, at McCarthy's level, no longer needed a partner.The short detective, whose back was turned to him, also turned around.

Oh hell!McCarthy immediately realized what had been making him feel wrong. — Sean Miles, why is that guy here?