139: Chapter 139 Clues to Survival

Jack Martin's efficiency was usually directly proportional to the pressure Chen Mo applied.

In less than an hour, a yellowed electronic file was projected onto the screen in front of Chen Mo.

"Albert Wang. Former Major Crimes Unit detective for the Las Vegas Police Department, responsible for investigating the Ross disappearance case in 1994. It was the last case he handled before his retirement."

Jack pointed to a young ID photo on the screen. In the photo, the Asian man had sharp eyes and furrowed brows, appearing full of suspicion toward the world.

"In his final report, he wrote 'Insufficient evidence, suspected of fleeing'." Jack tapped the keyboard and pulled up another file.

"But in the second month after his retirement, a sum of money of unknown origin suddenly appeared in his bank account. The amount wasn't large, only fifty thousand US dollars.

The remitter was a shell company, and its registered address was on the same street as the Red Rock Construction Company."

"Hush money," Old George said without looking up, as he was cleaning that AA12 shotgun.

"Fifty thousand could buy a decent house in '94. This old cop sold a lifetime of honor for a good price."

"Where is he now?" Chen Mo asked.

"Still alive," Jack brought up a real-time map.

"He's at the Sunset Retirement Home on the outskirts of the city. He suffers from severe Alzheimer's, also known as senile dementia. It's said he doesn't even recognize his own son."

"His brain is broken?" Chen Mo buttoned his suit jacket. "It doesn't matter if it's broken. Some secrets aren't stored in the brain; they're carved into the bones."

...

The Sunset Retirement Home was located on the edge of Las Vegas, right next to a desolate Gobi desert.

There were no neon lights or noise from casinos here, only the sound of coughing one after another and that pervasive smell of disinfectant that refused to dissipate.

When Chen Mo pushed open the door to Room 304, a strong smell of urine hit him.

The room was small, containing only a bed and a nightstand.

The curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out the glaring sunlight from outside.

A thin, frail old man was curled up under the covers, his gray hair messy, muttering something unintelligibly.

"Albert?"

Chen Mo walked to the bedside.

The old man's eyes were cloudy and yellow. Upon hearing the sound, he turned his head slowly, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Ace of Spades... didn't lose... didn't lose..." The old man suddenly grinned, saliva running down the corner of his mouth, "It's all here... all here..."

He kept tapping his temple with his withered, twig-like fingers.

"He's like this every day."

A woman's voice came from the doorway.

A woman wearing pink nurse scrubs pushed a cart inside. A mask covered most of her face, revealing only a pair of somewhat weary-looking eyes. "Time for medicine, gentlemen. Visiting hours are over."

Chen Mo didn't turn around, just stared into the old man's eyes.

"Albert, where is Ross?" Chen Mo suddenly asked.

The old man's body shuddered violently.

This name was like some kind of switch, causing a flash of clarity to instantly pass through his cloudy eyes, followed by extreme fear.

"Don't... don't dig!" The old man suddenly reached out, grabbing Chen Mo's sleeve tightly, his fingernails almost sinking into the fabric.

"The pillar... that's the suppression... the ledger... the thirteenth tree in Red Rock Valley... can't dig!"

"The ledger?" Chen Mo keenly seized on this word.

Ross was sealed in concrete, so where did his money and secrets go?

"Time to go, sir."

The nurse pushed the cart to the bedside, her voice becoming somewhat stiff.

She picked up a syringe filled with transparent liquid from the tray, skillfully purging the air.

Chen Mo still didn't turn around.

"What is this medicine for?" Chen Mo asked.

"Sedative. This old man is too noisy." The nurse bypassed Chen Mo, grabbed the old man's arm, and was about to inject him.

"You're new, aren't you?" Chen Mo suddenly reached out and grasped the nurse's wrist.

The nurse's wrist was hard, her skin rough, with a thick layer of calluses at the base of her thumb.

Those were marks left by long-term handling of guns or daggers.

"This nursing home uses indwelling needles; there's no need to pierce the vein every time."

Chen Mo looked at the nurse's instantly constricting pupils. "Besides, sedatives are usually intramuscular injections, not intravenous pushes. Do you want him to die of heart failure?"

The air froze in that second.

The weariness in the nurse's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a beast-like ferocity.

She flipped her wrist, and the syringe stabbed toward Chen Mo's carotid artery like a dagger.

The movement was astonishingly fast.

But Chen Mo was faster than her.

Snap.

Chen Mo exerted force with his fingers, directly crushing the opponent's wrist bone. The syringe fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

"Ugh!" The female assassin let out a muffled grunt, her other hand pulling a scalpel from under the cart, slashing toward Chen Mo's abdomen.

Chen Mo dodged sideways, taking the opportunity to grab her hair and slam her head hard against the oxygen tank nearby.

Thud!

A dull sound. The female assassin slumped to the ground limply, blood streaming from her forehead, her body twitching twice before going still.

"Professional," Chen Mo glanced at the woman on the ground. "Rogers' people react quickly."

Just then, Albert on the bed suddenly started breathing heavily.

Although the fight was brief, for an old man with heart failure, that kind of shock was enough to be fatal.

He opened his mouth wide, struggling to breathe like a fish out of water, a "gurgling" sound coming from his throat.

"Red... Red Rock..."

Albert's hands clawed wildly in the air, then finally dropped powerlessly.

Those cloudy eyes gradually lost their focus, and the curve on the ECG monitor turned into a straight line, a piercing buzzing sound echoing in the room.

Dead.

The only lead was broken.

If it were an ordinary person, they would probably be annoyed at losing this living witness.

But Chen Mo was not an ordinary person.

He looked at Albert's face, which still bore an expression of terror, and slowly extended his right hand.

For a Corpse Collector, the dead were often more honest and more valuable than the living.

"Ding!"

The familiar mechanical sound in his mind rang out right on time.

[Target detected to have died within 30 minutes.]

[Extract?]

Chen Mo's palm gently covered the old man's forehead, the corners of his mouth curling into a cold arc.

"Extract."