Chapter 28

Half an hour later, Michael's wife was taken to the hospital, and the police left after investigating the scene.

They believed it was a rather ordinary and obvious case of burglary and assault, not something unusual in Baylor Federation. There were always some lazy and desperate people willing to resort to illegal means to get some money.

However, the police didn't leave empty-handed. They thought the escaped criminal might be familiar with Michael's home—knowing he was away on an assignment, the child was still at school, and only Michael's wife was at home.

The robbery turned into an assault, which, in the eyes of the police, became evidence that the perpetrator might have a grudge or hatred towards this family.

The empty house was now pitch dark. Lynch, wearing gloves, opened the yard gate and closed it behind him. He pulled out homemade lock-picking tools—a modified bottle opener and a hook-shaped pick, both purchasable in hardware or tool stores.

The principle behind the old-fashioned door lock was simple: pressing the pins into the keyhole allowed the lock cylinder to turn and open the door. While a key could easily achieve this, without one, additional torque was needed for the lock cylinder.

Applying torque created a slight misalignment between the lock cylinder and the pins. This tiny misalignment was enough to prevent the pins from falling out of the keyhole. Manipulating the pins with the pick into the correct positions allowed the door to open after a series of clicking sounds.

After a few twists and clicks, the door lock gave a clunk sound. Glancing around, Lynch turned the doorknob and slipped into the room through the crack of the door.

The house was slightly messy. The police had paused here briefly to collect evidence earlier. Lynch lit his pocket flashlight and made his way upstairs.

After a few minutes, he found the study in the house. Unexpectedly, the investigator Michael had a hot temper but was fond of reading. Looking at the orderly rows of books, Lynch couldn't help but feel that Michael had read all those books for nothing.

He rummaged around and found a safe but chose not to tamper with it. He had learned how to crack these old-style safes. Understanding the principle made it relatively easy. These wheel-type combination locks were essentially a series of rotating wheels. By aligning the markings on each wheel, the mechanism could be unlocked when everything fell into place, allowing the bolt to retract smoothly.

Some movies depicted using stethoscopes to listen to the sounds of the internal wheel rotations, which initially worked but manufacturers soon patched this obvious vulnerability. However, skilled craftsmen could rely on the feel of the lock, which was a different matter.

Inside the safe lay some money, perhaps useful for Michael, but nothing of use to Lynch—no evidence, notebooks, or anything aligned with his purpose for being there.

He roamed the room, pulled open a few drawers beneath the desk, found some loose change in the right drawer, and hatched a plan. He placed his gold ring, a personal possession, into the second-to-last drawer and restored everything to its original state before departing.

This was one of his primary objectives for the day: leaving the gold ring in Michael's home. Then, he needed to address other issues— the News Head.

The News Head had managed to escape. The crime-solving rate in this era was dismally low. Due to privacy concerns and other reasons, the Baylor Federation lacked any surveillance systems.

This meant that all information related to suspects derived indirectly from clues and eyewitness accounts. Without witnesses, cases like Lynch's break-in would hardly be solved unless the culprit made a mistake during their next crime or was exceptionally forthcoming during interrogation, confessing their previous deeds.

Otherwise, one couldn't rely much on the police.

This case had slightly graver implications, involving the head of the tax bureau investigation team. Sabin City Police Department had deployed additional manpower. They were waiting for Michael's wife to recover from her shock, hoping for a more accurate description of the suspect.

The community security provided a sketch of the suspect. Unfortunately, it was drawn in a poorly lit area without adequate lighting from community street lamps. The security personnel's vague and uncertain description rendered the sketch less meaningful.

Meanwhile, the News Head the police were looking for had returned to his territory. His heart rate had just settled from its racing pace. Only the handgun he clutched could provide him some solace.

He felt foolish. Initially intending to make the woman suffer a bit and perhaps threaten her to retrieve the evidence in Michael's possession, a terrible desire had suddenly overtaken him, leading to actions he couldn't comprehend.

Now that his emotions had stabilized, he realized he had made a grave mistake. The woman had seen his face, and it would be an unforgettable memory. In a day or two, within a week at most, his wanted poster would flood Sabin City. He had too many acquaintances here; his fate was sealed.

He could already completely imagine Michael's fury—up until this moment, the News Head's inner self still feared Michael, and he couldn't change that fact.

Although reluctant, he made a decision. He had to leave, leave Sabin City, and lay low elsewhere. When the dust settled, perhaps he wouldn't return at all.

He had money—saved over the years, a few tens of thousands, stashed away in a shoebox in his room. This money hadn't seen the inside of a bank. It stayed within a shoebox.

He also had his gun. With these resources, he could disappear somewhere else, engage in some small business, or even return to his former line of work.

Thinking this through, he didn't hesitate. Ignoring the kids in the dormitory, he went straight back to his room. He rummaged through a pile of seemingly worthless garbage and retrieved the shoebox. After gathering some items he couldn't bear to discard, he left in the dead of night.

He assumed nobody noticed his actions, but a few of the eldest kids in the dormitory did. Since the News Head had fired a shot at a child's thigh yesterday, these seemingly docile kids had fostered an emotion the News Head himself hadn't been aware of.

Within a minute of his departure, the older kids armed themselves with knives usually used for cooking and some steel bars "picked" from a construction site, chasing after him.

Simultaneously, Lynch had traced close by. He pondered how to quietly deal with the News Head when he witnessed the News Head rushing out with a bag, followed closely by a few hurried dwarfish figures.