91. Reversal, Rules

LVPD.

Because of the connections, both overt and covert, the process of taking the statement was unusually swift and straightforward.

Dean and Gretchen then went to the interrogation room where the prisoner was held, observing through the glass window the kidnapper with his hands cuffed, sitting on a high stool, silently watching his demeanor.

“Gru Stone, 28 years old, a graduate with a master’s degree in economics from Rio University, a genuinely top student—how did he end up kidnapping children?”

Dean flipped through the transcript, looking at Grice with puzzlement. The detective gave no response, resting his hands firmly on the table, leaning slightly forward, and staring intently at the silent face behind the glass. After confirming the identity and making a phone call, no matter how the officers questioned him, the man remained silent.

“Don’t you find his behavior strange?” Gretchen twirled a strand of black hair with her index finger. “Not a shred of nervousness or fear, as if he’s completely at ease in his own home. In Nevada, child kidnapping is never a minor offense; even attempted cases can mean ten or eight years in prison.”

But soon, they all understood where Gru’s confidence stemmed from. Less than an hour after he entered the police station, a sharply dressed lawyer carrying a black briefcase entered the interrogation room and efficiently pulled out a thick stack of documents.

“Shit!” Grice’s face instantly darkened, looking utterly displeased as if he’d swallowed a fly.

“That lawyer’s got quite a reputation?” Dean scanned him. The man was about forty, with sunken eyes, a large, prominent nose, and reddish-brown hair meticulously combed. His posture was as rigid as steel, deep nasolabial folds framing his nose, exuding the aura of a business elite yet tinged with a rough outlaw’s air.

“Vladimir Ilyich Pushkin—a disgusting troublemaker. If he’s hired, Gru’s background isn’t simple. This case just got complicated.”

Grice sighed and turned to them.

“You’re done here. The tour ends now; go back and continue your date.”

“Let us stay a little longer,” Gretchen pleaded stubbornly. “I want to see how this kidnapper’s story ends!”

“Stay any longer and I’ll have Thomas lock you up in solitary for a month!” Grice immediately growled, clearly a detective who wouldn’t tolerate outsiders meddling in a case.

The two reluctantly left, and Dean quietly memorized the names of the suspect and his lawyer.

...

According to the original plan, Dean and Gretchen were supposed to drive out to the countryside in the afternoon to find a quiet meadow to bask in the sun and have a vigorous sparring session. But after such a kidnapping incident, they both lost interest and went home separately.

Dean took out the business card of Lucville, the lawyer handling the Abby case, and called him, explaining the situation.

“Vladimir Ilyich Pushkin? The red-haired big-nosed guy?” Lucville’s surprised voice came through the receiver.

“Yes, him.”

“Vladimir is a money-hungry hyena. As long as the price is right, he’ll take any case.” Lucville’s tone was nuanced, both praising and criticizing. “He’ll stop at nothing to win the defense, capable of spinning lies beyond imagination, exploiting every legal loophole, fabricating evidence when none exists, and skilled at striking at opponents from unexpected angles. When his adversaries collapse first, he wins without a fight.”

Dean frowned.

“So, his case win rate is very high. I suppose his fees are substantial?”

“Accurate analysis. Ordinary families can’t afford him; his clients are either very rich or powerful.”

Dean’s curiosity stirred. “Have you heard of Gru Stone?”

“I have a vague impression. There’s a billionaire real estate tycoon in Las Vegas named Layton Stone. Gru Stone, if I recall correctly, is his younger son.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. We in this line often attend various social events. I happened to see the Stone family at a banquet and even took a group photo with them.”

Surprise flashed in Dean’s eyes.

As a wealthy heir, Gru obviously wasn’t short of money. So his sedating Tim Campbell couldn’t have been simply for profit.

Moreover, he carried a gun and shot immediately when things went south. Anyone else facing him would either be gravely wounded or dead. Such vigilance and ruthlessness were not typical of an ordinary rich kid.

A spark of inquiry ignited in Dean’s mind—why exactly did Gru kidnap a child?

There was likely a second hidden story here.

But since Gru was detained at LVPD under multiple layers of supervision, it was inconvenient for Dean to use his supernatural abilities against him.

He would have to be patient.

...

“Mr. Lucville, you’ve been a great help,” Dean said. “How much do I owe you?”

“No charge. You didn’t consult on any legal matters, just consider it a friendly chat—no, rather, a conversation between future colleagues. By the way, about David Lee, whom you asked me about last time—unfortunately, I can’t save him. I can only make his time in prison a little more bearable.”

“Thank you for your efforts. I’ll sign a contract with you next year.”

Lucville chuckled happily. “So, what crime did Gru Stone commit to hire that hyena?”

Dean pondered for a few seconds and recounted the day’s events.

“Tsk tsk, catching a child kidnapper within ten minutes, your skills are better than I expected. But listen, Dean, I know you have a strong sense of justice, but I advise you to stay out of this case.”

“Because of Vladimir?”

“No, because of Gru’s family. His parents are real estate moguls, and within their circle are other businessmen, lawyers, media, including their good friend Donald, owner of the Hyatt Hotel in New York, and politicians who have taken their donations. They will help Gru get off the hook, using staggering wealth and influence, as well as their own rules and systems, to crush any obstacle.”

Lucville paused.

“And you, Dean, no offense, but you’re still in high school, with no money or power. There’s no need for you to take huge risks to prosecute a bored rich kid over a case that hasn’t caused any real harm.”

“Let it go.”

This candid advice touched Dean slightly, and he feigned a casual demeanor.

“I understand. This matter will end here. I’ll enjoy my vacation and wish you a happy holiday.”

...

The next two days ushered in the Thanksgiving holiday.

Dean didn’t celebrate and privately asked Holden to look into Gru Stone’s family background.

His father was Layton Stone, mother Shannon Stone, with two older brothers and one sister, six members living together in a manor north of Las Vegas.

Additionally, Holden brought some bad news—

“After 48 hours in custody, Gru Stone was released without charges. This young master should be home now, enjoying a welcome party.”

Holden switched the TV channel. On screen, a tall, platinum-haired gentleman in a blue pinstripe suit beamed as he cut the ribbon for a newly built building. Standing beside him were several middle-aged men, their faces adorned with the uniform fake smiles of high-ranking officials.

“Gru’s father, Layton Stone, flanked by the mayor, the head of the builders’ association... do you see what’s going on?”

“A wealthy man who knows some politicians can kidnap children with impunity?” Dean sat beside Holden, opening a can of juice and scrutinizing those smiling faces.

“Who said Gru is a kidnapper?” Holden teased. “He just mistook someone—Tim Campbell—for his long-lost younger brother.”

“That sounds too coincidental. But it’s true. The Stone family had a younger son, Reggie Stone, who disappeared ten years ago. Old photos show he looked remarkably like Tim.”

“Gru was so heartbroken over his brother’s disappearance that when he saw Tim’s familiar face, he couldn’t help but play along, dressing as a mascot to keep him company, even inviting him home enthusiastically.”

“You believe that nonsense? That pervert clearly drugged Tim to knock him out, stuffed him in a mascot costume, and sneaked out via a secure passage.” Dean looked disgusted. “He took Tim without the guardian’s permission. If that’s not kidnapping, what is?”

“No, Tim later said he was mistaken. He agreed to go home with Gru and even hid in the mascot costume himself as a prank.” Holden shook his head with a sigh. “Besides, Tim’s parents, sensing Gru’s love for their son, were understanding and withdrew the charges.”

A kidnapper exonerated so blatantly?

Dean frowned in disbelief.

“Shooting at me in the secure passage with a gun—was that not illegal?”

“Don’t dwell on that. If you press further, you’ll be the one charged with drawing and firing a weapon!” Holden warned seriously. “Let me remind you, only three people were in the secure passage at the time. Gru had two witnesses—himself and Tim. You were alone, and your fingerprints were on the gun.”

The room suddenly fell silent. The air thickened, sticky like mud, making it hard to breathe.

Dean’s pupils contracted, a sardonic smile spreading across his face. He crushed the juice can with his right hand, juice spraying over the table, floor, and his shirt.

Only two days in, and a verdict that seemed set in stone had completely reversed, now threatening the safety of someone acting out of righteous courage.

Is this a society ruled by law?

Holden placed both hands on the table, turned his head to look at him meaningfully, and said,

“Just yesterday, the father of the kidnapped child Tim was promoted to sales manager, and his mother changed to a well-paid, easy job.”

“From now on, you need to rethink the basic rules of human society—without money and power, you can’t resolve trouble. No matter how ugly the truth, it can be covered up or even turned upside down.”

Dean looked straight at him.

“So parents can forgive the perpetrator who hurt their child for the sake of their own benefit?”

“The key is Tim wasn’t really harmed and, in fact, benefited the family materially.” Holden’s tone wavered. “Besides, who can say for sure Gru took Tim not because he missed his own brother?”

Dean fell silent.

...

“Buddy, I’ve seen countless disgusting, low-down cases like this. Some of my former colleagues’ ideals and passion were worn down this way. I tried too, but I can’t change it—not even the president of this country can.” Holden sighed, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s better to be a little foolish in life—that way, you live freer.”

“If you insist on pursuing justice and showing mercy, that mercy will be far too cheap.”

Cheap mercy.

Dean rubbed his face hard and smiled.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t meddle anymore. From now on, whether they live or die is none of my business. Let these ungrateful bastards go to hell!”

“Let’s talk about something happier.” Dean tossed Holden a small blue gift box. “Holiday present. Nothing valuable, just take it.”

“Thomas said you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“But I won’t force others.”

“You’re thoughtful.” Holden smiled appreciatively. “This is the only gift I’ve received in years.”

“Only I can understand a garrulous old bachelor like you.”

Dean bade farewell to a visibly comforted Holden and stepped into the deepening twilight outside the window.

He still had an account to settle with Gru.

(End of Chapter)