CHAPTER 447: CHAPTER 273 DETAILS_1

Las Vegas, local precinct.

Dean and Cheston En met with the officer who greeted them.

The officer was a middle-aged white woman named Louise, a very common name in the United States. She wore delicate makeup, and if not for the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes revealing her age, one might have thought she was just over thirty, still charming and attractive.

Upon seeing the handsome Dean, Louise became very enthusiastic.

She eagerly shook Dean’s extended hand, her fingers mischievously drawing small circles in his palm as she said in a teasing tone, "Hello, I’m Louise, a detective from Las Vegas. By the way, are you sure you’re not an actor or a male model or something?"

"Perhaps if I run out of money someday, I might consider it. But for now, I am indeed an FBI agent here to help investigate a case. You can call me Dean."

Dean had particular preferences. He was only interested in women under thirty-five, so he unreceptively withdrew his hand.

Beside him, Cheston En smoothly gave Louise an out. "Detective Louise, I’m Cheston En, Agent Dean’s assistant. I’m the one who contacted you by phone."

Louise withdrew her hand, rubbing her fingers in front of the two men as if savoring the feel of Dean’s firm palm. She appeared frivolous and... lascivious.

It could only be said that any woman who could make her way in a police department and rise through the ranks possessed distinctive qualities.

Cheston En witnessed this, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

He didn’t understand why Louise, a lead detective, would behave so inappropriately at their first meeting.

Dean’s eyes, however, flashed with comprehension.

This woman is testing us,

Dean thought. Such unexpected encounters are the best way to see how a person truly handles things, their style. If he wasn’t mistaken, Louise resented the FBI’s intervention in the serial female body dumping case. However, she was powerless to stop her superiors from offloading responsibility, hence this charade.

Therefore, Dean, smiling, took the initiative and said,

"You smoke Marlboros. Your last one was probably about three minutes before we met. You rarely wear makeup. The makeup you have on now isn’t for us; you were at a relative’s wedding party last night, partied all night, and didn’t have time to take it off. Also, you have military experience, and your right ankle gives you chronic pain. You have a timid but domesticated boyfriend. You love it when he nestles in your arms, and if conditions allow, a Marlboro then brings you immense psychological satisfaction!"

The more Louise listened, the more her expression froze.

He’s right about everything!

But then, her frozen expression twisted into anger. "Damn it, you investigated me!"

Dean shrugged. "If you’d like, I can also tell you how often you and your boyfriend get intimate, your preferred positions, and the peculiar things you like to do. But I didn’t investigate any of that. You’ve told me yourself, in the few minutes since we met!"

As he spoke, Dean extended a hand to his side.

Cheston En deftly retrieved a pack of cigarettes from an inner pocket, drew one out, and placed it between Dean’s fingers.

CLICK.

The cigarette ignited.

Dean exhaled a puff of smoke and said nonchalantly,

"You’re a domineering person, so you don’t appreciate anyone interfering with your cases. Despite several female victims, you’ve found no clues, have no leads, and you’re getting agitated. You’re also resentful that we’re here. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve probably prepared a few other ’tests’ to make us look bad and vent your frustration.

"But this attitude of yours could delay the rescue of the next potential victim, costing her her young life. So, Detective Louise, please don’t let your emotions dictate whether someone else lives or dies!"

With every word Dean spoke, Louise grew more shocked.

She felt as if Dean’s gaze stripped her bare, leaving no secrets hidden.

This man... he sees the ugliest parts of my very soul!

At that moment, Louise felt a storm of emotions: shock, shame, and rage!

She wanted to argue, to deny it.

But when Louise met Dean’s gaze—seemingly gentle, yet unyieldingly firm—she involuntarily looked at the floor. Her head drooped uncontrollably, like a little girl caught misbehaving. She stammered, at a loss for words, "I’m sorry... I... You..."

"No need for explanations!"

Dean waved his hand dismissively. "Just take us to review the case details," he commanded.

There are many ways to deal with people. Faced with someone as stubborn, controlling, and domineering as Louise, the most efficient approach was to shatter her psychological defenses and establish an image of overwhelming power and mystery.

Of course, this method could easily breed resentment later.

But Dean didn’t care.

His strength was the source of his confidence.

...

It wasn’t until Louise had led the two men to the forensic department’s morgue that she suddenly snapped back to her senses. She regained her composure, shaking off the unsettling feeling of having unconsciously obeyed Dean’s commands.

She glanced at Dean apprehensively, only to meet his eyes, which held a faint, knowing smile.

Louise’s heart lurched.

This handsome young agent... he’s terrifying!

She licked her lips, pushing down the chaotic thoughts. She led them to a row of covered gurneys. "These are the five victims we found by the highway," she said, her voice a little strained. "And this is Walter, our medical examiner. He’s the most experienced M.E. in Las Vegas."