CHAPTER 475: 285_1

Oregon State is located along the coast of the Pacific Ocean. It was originally a gathering area for Native Americans and enjoys a warm climate with distinct seasons. Over time, it has gradually become a high-tech and financial center of the United States.

As a result, the per capita income of the residents here is quite high, affording them money and leisure.

Naturally, the residents of the urban areas like to travel and explore.

The small town Dean and Cheston En visited was just like this. Expensive sedans, off-road vehicles, and modified RVs were everywhere. It reached the point that even Dean’s imposing Hummer didn’t particularly stand out there.

After entering the town, the two found a hotel and rented a double room that wasn’t large, but was clean.

Cheston En didn’t have Dean’s energy.

He turned down Dean’s invitation to dinner and collapsed onto the large white bed, soon beginning to snore.

Noob. Dean curled his lip and left the room.

Perhaps because of the multitude of tourists, modest inns and pubs could be seen everywhere in the town.

As evening approached, in some courtyards, one could see people holding bonfire parties with tents set up nearby. Presumably, a group of people had jointly rented a courtyard house to save on expenses.

Dean wandered aimlessly through the relatively small town.

According to the information provided by the FBI, in recent years, more than fifty tourists and residents had gone missing in the towns around the mountain range, with no trace of them, dead or alive. Moreover, the police departments in the towns near the mountains had tacitly concealed these cases.

In such serial disappearance cases, clarifying the timing, frequency, and locations of the disappearances was critical.

But since the local police had chosen not to report these incidents, they were unlikely to cooperate with outsiders like them.

The only option left for Dean was covert inquiry!

The missing persons included tourists from out of town as well as local residents.

So even if there was something wrong with the local town government and police department, there should still be some rumors circulating among the locals.

True or false, who knew? But there might be some hints.

As the sky grew dark, Dean found himself on the outskirts of town.

Under the orange streetlights, every signpost was plastered with various small notes: information about house rentals, self-recommended tour guides, food advertisements, and even messages about lost and found items.

After touring the area, Dean frowned.

He couldn’t find a single missing person notice on any of these signboards!

That made no sense at all!

After a moment’s thought, he pretended to rummage in his pocket. With a mental command, he pulled out a family photo from his subspace and tore off his younger brother’s headshot. Then he went to a general store to buy a marker pen and some white paper.

With some quick work, a fresh missing person poster appeared on the large signboard at the town’s entrance and exit.

Having finished this, Dean headed to a bar that seemed to have a moderate flow of patrons. He ordered a drink, pulled out a few US dollars, and said to the bartender who was wiping glasses, "Buddy, I need a well-informed local."

Bars like this were often the fastest way to make contact with the local underground.

The bartender was a man in his thirties. He was average-looking but sported a rare samurai bun and a lean, horse-like face, which was quite attractive to the average married woman.

He set down the glass, first looked at Dean’s unfamiliar face, then glanced at the thickness of the US dollars in Dean’s hand before shrugging. "I don’t want to look for trouble unless you tell me what you want first."

Taking his drink, Dean said somberly, "My brother went missing while hiking around here. The police haven’t offered any help, and I’m looking for some people to take me into the mountains. It would be even better if there was news of my brother!"

"Missing?"

After listening, the bartender quickly looked around. Seeing that no one was paying attention to them, he whispered, "Alright, every year people like you come here, but they usually end up with nothing. If you need help, you can call this number."

With that, he pulled a business card from beneath the bar and slid it over to Dean.

Dean looked down and saw written on the card: Ademar Rescue, phone number...

He feigned surprise as he looked at the bartender. "Buddy, I mean, my brother has *gone missing*. He doesn’t need rescuing. I just want to know where he was last seen."

The bartender pointed at the card. "Call them, explain the situation, and you’ll find out. But I have to remind you again: they don’t come cheap, and you might not get the results you’re hoping for."

Dean sighed. "Alright, I hope you’re not fooling me."

He left the US dollars he was holding, took the business card the bartender offered, and walked out.

Once outside the tavern, Dean casually threw the card on the ground and shook his head. Pretentious frauds!

He could tell at a glance that the bartender was lying.

If he really called the number on the card as instructed, he’d likely just end up being swindled out of his money step by step.

After all, desperate people are the easiest to deceive.

However, the bartender’s words did reveal one piece of information: people came to this small town every year looking for someone.

That piece of information should be true. Otherwise, why would that business card always be ready under the counter?

Now, things were getting interesting. If this godforsaken place really did have frequent disappearances, then why weren’t there any missing person posters to be seen along the streets?

It could only mean one thing: someone was regularly removing them.

Cleaning up, concealing... Dean was almost certain that there was something fishy going on with the officials in the surrounding towns!

As for the specifics, he would find out tomorrow morning!

「The next day.」

At nine in the morning, Cheston En, who must have been truly exhausted, was still not awake.

After freshening up, Dean went downstairs to enjoy the complimentary breakfast provided by the hotel.

On the dining table, there were also tourist brochures provided by the town for promotional purposes.

While eating his bread, Dean opened a brochure and began to browse through it.

The brochure briefly outlined several common routes for going up the mountain. It also listed supply points, camping sites, important notices, emergency phone numbers, complaint hotlines, and various leisure activities.

For the safety of tourists, a few nearby towns had even built free wooden cabins in the gentler areas of the mountains. They had also cleared spaces, erected signal towers, stocked emergency supplies, and even constructed two helicopter landing pads.

It was evident that the locals were very attentive to visiting tourists.

Dean skimmed past the bit about signal towers and asked a passing server, "Excuse me, I see it mentioned that cell phones can also be used in the mountains?"

The server, who had probably been asked this before, nodded with a smile. "Yes, sir, but the mountain range is quite large. Cell phone signals are only somewhat stable along the recommended routes."

"Thank you."

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

After breakfast, he planned to check the place where he had left the missing person notice the previous night.

For the missing person notice, he had used his younger brother’s photo, but aside from the phone number, Dean had fabricated all the other information.

At the location of the signpost, Dean fell into deep thought.

The missing person notice was still there, but his phone number had been wiped off!