When, when, when, when.≤≤small≤say,

Next to a medium-sized supermarket in Connor Township, he knocked on the door of the house with Connors over the weekend, but the knock did not cause any response to it. The house was as quiet as if no one was at home.

Connors, who was not in a hurry at all, turned to the weekend and asked, "Do you know why I concluded that Alan wasn't raped?"

"Test me?" He glanced at Connors over the weekend, wondering why he suddenly said that.

"No, just chatting casually."

Unexpectedly, she responded directly: "There are no traces of tearing on the clothes, the buttons are not off-lined, and the underwear on the upper body is in the position where they should be. These do not meet the on-site environment of force-rapist. However, the injuries on Allen's face prove that she has had a very fierce struggle. In such a strong conflict, both parties are very excited. Then, in this case, if the murderer - rape - she is not likely to make the other party's clothes intact, as if they have never been touched. If a man forcibly pounces on a woman, it is impossible not to tear the other party's clothes or underwear..."

"expert."

"What?" Zhouzhang asked with his eyes wide open.

Connors smiled and said, "A expert in solving cases."

Click.

The door opened, and a man in big shorts and bath towel appeared at the door.

The man took a shower. Not only did he take a shower, but when he reached out to grab a bath towel and wiped his head, he also saw the wound on the joints on the back of his hand on the weekend. Although the trauma surface was not large, the bruises and swelling were moderate, no matter whether the wound was related to the case in the woods, it was at least a question worthy of reasonable doubt.

"Gentlemen, what's wrong with you?" the man asked.

"Los Angeles Police Department Homicide Department." Connors took out his ID and lit it, and asked, "Sir, do you know a 14-year-old girl named Allen? Maybe... so tall, her hair is brown." He reached out and gestured.

The man stood at the door and looked at the two detectives in front of him again, and responded: "I know, I once hired her. She was responsible for mowing the lawn, which is the place behind you."

I looked back at the weekend and it was a straight lawn, very small. Then I asked, "When was this happening?"

"The children in the town school were just on summer vacation."

He heard the question again this weekend: "Sir, you are Thomas, right? That's the owner of that supermarket." He pointed at the supermarket not far away.

Thomas's answer is so confusing. Even if a 14-15-year-old child is employed to trim such a small lawn, it can be finished in half an hour at most. If you are pushing a lawn mower, you can handle it in ten minutes at most. Who would hire a girl for such a lawn for a month? Before the weekend, I thought that Thomas lived in the kind of house with a courtyard, but when I saw that the house in front of me didn't even have a backyard, many questions began to appear in my mind.

"It's me." Thomas replied.

Connors interrupted, "Mr. Thomas, how did you get the injury on your hand?"

"Brains."

"Is that?" Connors continued, "I happened to observe the scratches carefully. Usually, scratches will form striped white friction marks behind the wound, which is a bit like the black stripe codes of certain products in supermarkets, with the same orientation. This kind of injury will show red patterns even after taking a shower. Can I take a look at your hands?"

Thomas instantly put down his hand that was rubbing his head with a bath towel. He said protestingly: "Mr. Police, do you doubt me?"

I laughed at the weekend: "What do you doubt you?"

"How do I know?"

Connors said: "Mr. Thomas, we found a female corpse in the woods not far away. It was confirmed that the deceased was named Allen, 14 years old. He had trimmed the lawn in front of your house before his death, so we came to talk to you."

"I reject your proposal." Thomas still didn't want Connors to look at his hands, and even put his hands into his shorts pocket.

"Of course." Connors didn't care about the other person's performance and then asked, "So. Where are you between 10:00 and 11:00 this morning?"

"at home."

"Mr. Thomas, I hope you are telling the truth. Once I find anything wrong with our Q&A, I will apply for a search warrant. I believe that in less than an hour, my colleague will send that search warrant. You must have a driving recorder in the car you drive, which is something that doesn't lie." Connors mocked: "I love that thing so much. Its honesty has made me send at least a dozen villains to Devil's Island. Mr. Connors, are you sure you don't modify your answer?"

Thomas was a little stuck. He stood at the door and couldn't speak, as if he was thinking about countermeasures, but all the countermeasures he thought about were overturned by himself.

I took this opportunity to ask on the weekend: "Mr. Thomas, don't be nervous, have you seen Allen today?"

"No!"

He answered very quickly, as if someone accidentally touched his defense mechanism.

"What about a week ago?"

"No!"

He nodded over the weekend and continued to ask, "Then you must have never been to the woods outside the town today, is that right?"

When Thomas heard this, he had a sudden pause again. The rhythm of the conversation was completely cut off. After thinking carefully for a few seconds, he answered: "That's right." His careful answer seemed to be afraid of some trap. He had no idea that the weekend inquiry had no purpose at all. He was just observing Thomas' expression.

However, near the trash can at the entrance of the supermarket not far away, a man in a plaid shirt reached out and pressed the baseball cap on his head, not wanting anyone to recognize him to stand in an inconspicuous place to observe here, while in his hand, he was carrying a bag of food and daily necessities.

"The last question, Mr. Thomas, have you and Allen actually had—sexual—behaviors?"

"I'm talking about today!"

A question Thomas could not deny was asked over the weekend, because no matter what the answer to this question was, Connors would apply for a search warrant and then check Thomas's car's dashcam. Once it was found that the car appeared in the woods outside the town at 10:0011:00 this morning, that is, the time when Allen died, Thomas' suspicion would continue to increase, and he would not be able to compare DNA at that time.

"..." Thomas didn't say anything, he looked at the weekend without any response.

Connors no longer wants to ask. He said on the weekend: "Mr. Thomas, you have two choices. Choose a: When our forensic department gets the DNA in Allen's body, our colleagues get Allen's call record and text message record to force you to conduct DNA comparison. If you have enough confidence, you can treat this as a police act to help you clear your suspicion; choose b, and tell us everything now, including all the questions you refused to answer just now."

"What evidence do you have to doubt?" Thomas was still stubborn.

Connors shook his head and said, "Then how about we try?"

"There is one thing missing at the scene of the murder. Thomas Allen's cell phone disappeared. The police suspected that the cell phone was taken away by the murderer. And I, now I can find Allen's cell phone number by just a call. I bet you that if I dial Allen's cell phone number now, I will definitely hear the ringtone in your room!"

The weekend said: "I raised the bet, betting that all the text messages and communication records related to you in Allen's mobile phone have been deleted, and then you hurried to take a shower. No matter what, you would never imagine that the police would come to the door so quickly. All this is just because a teacher in charge of Scout Summer Camp saw Allen working in front of your house, and you yourself didn't know what to do to kill someone so that the police would not be suspected."

"You have no evidence, all this is nonsense!"

Over the weekend, he looked at Connors and said, "Call now."

"Mr. Thomas, you are too stupid to do—sexual—behavior before killing Allen, nor should you use so much violence before killing her."

"Don't force me!"

Thomas quickly reached his hand to his back, then took out a revolver, aiming at the weekend.

Connors said calmly: "Thomas. This is the most special way of confessing guilt I have ever seen."

"It's not my fault!"

Thomas kept explaining: "It's not my fault!!"

Can he deny it?

The wet hair, injured wounds, DNA in the body and dash cam can be convicted without any evidence, and the revolver taken out from behind can prove everything.

It has nothing to do with you, why are you trying to pull out your gun?

Only those who are guilty will not dare to open the door when someone knocks on the door?

"It's all about that bitch!"

"She threatened me and kept threatening me with a mobile video from a month ago. She seduced me. She said she liked a pair of shoes very much, but her parents refused to buy it for her and wanted to borrow money from me... That was the first day she came to work here. After working for half an hour, she had to pay the wages. She also said... she was willing to pay any price!"

Thomas's hand holding the pistol kept shaking, and he was extremely nervous.

Connors interrupted him and said, "Mr. Thomas. Can you aim at me with the gun? Our Officer Zhou has been staring at the gun for a while since you pulled out the gun and can no longer speak."

"Mr. Sheriff, it would be fine if he was a calm person. Isn't you afraid that this bastard will touch the trigger when he is trembling?" There was a very bad premonition on the weekend.

Connors looked at the weekend with great exaggeration and said, "I'm scared to death." Then he returned to normal and said to Thomas: "Mr. Thomas, you continue."

"What to continue?"

"Alan told you that she would rather pay anything to buy a pair of shoes, and actually she meant that she could have sex with you, uh, go on."

At this moment, the man near the supermarket trash can placed his hands on the waistband covered with his shirt. The tightened shirt appeared in the shape of a gun near his belly. He was thinking and judging the form in front of him...

"Yes." Thomas said with guns in both hands: "Don't come over!"

When Connors looked back, he found that Andrew and a group of people were already lying behind the car and raising their guns. The distance between them and Thomas was less than 10 meters. In this case, if they were not afraid of accidental injury, Thomas might have been shot dead.

"Hey, Thomas, look at me, my men are all lying behind the car, no one comes over, now, can you continue?"

"No, no one will believe me, no one will believe me!"

He suddenly grabbed Zhouzhao's shoulder, blocked the detective's vision behind the car with his body, and then moved into the door little by little until both of them entered the room...

bump.
Chapter completed!