Reid was also the first to arrive at the school.

He got out of the car and immediately asked, "How are the three victims? Have their injuries worsened?"

Luke said, "The paramedics on the ambulance provided emergency bandaging and have sent the three injured to the hospital. I asked the accompanying medical staff, and none of the injuries are life-threatening."

"Well done. I heard you personally shot and wounded the gunman." Reid visibly breathed a sigh of relief; as long as there were no new fatalities, the case could be considered perfectly concluded. He could present a perfect report to Frank, and Frank could account to the citizens of Los Angeles.

As for the injured, it indicated how critical the situation was at the time. Fortunately, the Robbery and Murder Department arrived in time to prevent a second massacre; otherwise, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Luke laughed, "That's right, one bullet to the ankle and one to the wrist, rendering him immobile and unable to resist, perfectly solving the problem.

Are you planning to crown me as the Detective Department's top marksman?"

Reid laughed, "As long as you're not afraid of trouble, I don't mind."

"Then forget it; I'd rather have a bonus. It's more practical." Luke didn't want the entire police department queuing up to challenge his marksmanship just for a vanity title; after all, he made a living with his brain.

"When I see Frank, I'll apply for you." Reid patted Luke's shoulder, his tone sincere.

"Thanks." Luke replied with a smile, though he didn't have high expectations.

Many people were involved in the operation, and even if there were rewards, they wouldn't be much after division. Everyone was a team, and even though Luke was the leader, he had to consider his subordinates' feelings.

On the other hand, considering Luke's current status, he wasn't too concerned about monetary rewards from the department. What the department provided him were background, resources, and fame. With these three elements, he could easily earn extra income on the side.

If his fame grew further, Luke might even snag a speaking gig, earning money simply by talking.

Fame and fortune have always been inseparable twins.

He was already looking forward to that day.

Moreover, since Luke fired a gun during this operation, he would get a few days of paid vacation to handle his villa matters, aiming to get the house built as soon as possible. As for when he could move in, it was still unclear. It depended on the completion time and whether the decorations and furniture in Los Angeles contained harmful substances like formaldehyde.

If they did, then airing out for a while longer was necessary. If not, he could move in earlier and save a month's rent.

...

Carmela Supermarket.

Two patrol cars were parked near the entrance of the supermarket, and four officers were standing together chatting.

Among them, a portly middle-aged Black officer said, "I just received word from dispatch that the shooting perpetrator attacked Luther King Third Middle School. Luckily, the Robbery and Murder Department arrived in time and captured the shooter."

A young Black officer with thick lips said, "So the previous info we received wasn't accurate?"

An Asian officer leaning against the patrol car interjected, "I don't think so. The assailant first attacked Roger's Supermarket. Offenders often choose familiar locations, so the second target might also have been a supermarket.

The reason the shooter chose another target could be due to prior awareness."

The portly middle-aged Black officer said, "I agree with you. Perhaps precisely because we were here, the shooter changed targets.

If we hadn't arrived at the supermarket on time, this place might have turned into a massacre scene like Roger's Supermarket."

The young Black officer laughed, "Does this mean we earned some merit?"

"Of course." The group chuckled together.

Just then, a Black man around forty years old walked out of the supermarket with a black plastic tray holding several cups. "Officers, it's coffee time, and I've got your favorite donuts too."

The Black man was Boqi Camela, the owner of the supermarket.

The Asian officer took a cup of coffee, "Mr. Camela, thank you for the coffee, but I'll pass on the donuts. Not all cops have a taste for them."

The young Black officer laughed, "True, I'm working out these days. If I ate those donuts, my trainer would go nuts."

The middle-aged Black officer laughed, "Thank your trainer; now there's more for me."

The young Black man looked at his companion's belly and laughed, "Dude, you're the one who needs to lose weight the most."

"No, my wife loves my belly; she says it makes her feel secure."

The young Black officer smirked and flexed his bicep, "She's lying to you; women love muscles—that's what makes them feel secure."

The middle-aged Black officer shook his head, "My wife is past that age you're talking about, haha."

Boqi Camela enthusiastically offered, "We also have sliced rye bread at the supermarket. Do you want some?"

The Asian officer waved his hand, "No, thank you, boss. You've already been so considerate."

"Hey, don't be polite with me. You've protected my supermarket; this city needs people like you. You're true heroes."

The patrol officers exchanged smiles; no one dislikes being praised.

The middle-aged Black officer took a bite of a donut and said, "Mr. Camela, you can rest assured and continue your business; that psycho shooter has been arrested."