Fingerprint?
At this moment, Zhang Hai's forehead was already beaded with sweat.
His hands under the table were anxiously twisted together, trembling incessantly, and his right leg was shaking rapidly without him realizing it.
"Officer... Zhang... you said... what fingerprint?"
"What fingerprint?"
Zhang Hui stood up and walked to Zhang Hai's side, looking down at him from above.
With his rich interrogation experience, Zhang Hui knew very well that Zhang Hai was at the brink of an emotional breakdown.
It only took the weight of a straw to crush him.
However, the police's strongest weapon was never a straw but the suspect's yearning for freedom.
"Zhang Hai, you might not know, but when Zhang Cuiying fell off the cliff six months ago, part of the climbing anchor she used broke and was left in the crevice."
"If you don't confess now, we can arrest Zhao Jianping and see if he talks."
