If it wasn't Carrie.
Then what was it?
It couldn't be that I have to find some wild Salem witch, help her, and make her the Supreme Witch, right?
Do I look like freaking Santa Claus?
If this world were entirely filled with ordinary people and he had the power to grant supernatural abilities, Locke would still say no. Isn't being the sole supernatural being amazing enough?
However...
[Current Bonus Value: 10% (Maximum 100%)]
Locke raised an eyebrow as he looked at the ten-times bonus that had jumped up without him seemingly doing anything.
"Forget it."
Locke shook his head, downing the remaining bourbon in his glass. "Time for bed."
Carrie, sitting on the sofa, blanked for a moment as she saw Locke stand up. "Wait."
Locke, who was already at the bedroom door, turned around to look at her.
Carrie said, "About that matter with Cop..."
Although Cop hadn't said anything, Carrie was a witch after all. Plus, Locke had already shared his deductions—it was a story about a bad person threatening Cop to stop the case, and Cop ultimately choosing not to comply.
Carrie said, "That phone call on the way back must have been from Cop's creditor. Aren't we going to do anything?"
Locke thought about it. "Of course we are."
You help me, I help you.
That was the ideal model for a win-win cooperation.
To blindly demand someone's unreserved devotion and sacrifice—frankly, what was the difference between that and being a freeloader?
Locke was never that kind of person.
But...
"How do we do it?"
"Not right now."
"Hmm?"
Locke looked at Carrie and smiled. "Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime."
Carrie blinked. She hadn't taken any elective courses on culture.
Locke explained, "Cop's issue is a gambling addiction, not a debt issue. The debt is a minor problem. No matter how bad it gets, how much could he possibly owe? But if the gambling addiction isn't resolved, even if I fix it for him this time, there will eventually be a second time."
If that happened, things would probably escalate even further.
Therefore, the best approach was to fix it in one go and completely eradicate Cop's gambling addiction.
Would a degenerate gambler suddenly see the light?
No.
A degenerate gambler would probably still feel regret on their deathbed, wishing they had bet on the smaller number in that final round.
Fortunately, Cop wasn't a total lost cause yet. He was just a gambler sprinting down the path to becoming a degenerate gambler.
He could still be saved.
The next day.
When Locke met Cop again, he looked at the bruises on Cop's face with some surprise and asked with concern, "Cop, are you okay? Your face..."
Cop smiled and pointed at his cheek quite casually. "Had too much to drink at the bar last night and got into a fight."
Locke let out a breath. "How did the fight go?"
Cop threw a boxing punch, looked at Locke, and let out a small smile. "Does that even need to be said?"
Locke smiled back.
'He was quite optimistic. But how did he plan to raise two hundred thousand dollars within a month? Was he planning to steal five hundred thousand dollars directly from the evidence room?'
Locke thought to himself.
Yes.
He had gone out last night as the Vampire Caine. Only in his form as Caine would his six senses be enhanced enough to let him track Cop's scent.
His timing had been perfect.
Cop was getting beaten up inside a casino. The casino boss seemed furious because Cop hadn't handled the matter. He directly gave Cop an ultimatum to return the five hundred thousand dollars, doubling his debt including interest, within a month. Otherwise, Cop would have to face the consequences.
Clearly.
When a gambler encountered his creditor, the identity of a detective wasn't a help. It could even be a liability.
After all, inside the precinct, Cop was a good detective.
His reputation was one of the few things Cop had left.
Soon.
Detective Kaynor arrived as well.
Faced with Detective Kaynor's concern, the perpetually single Cop wasn't as relaxed as he was around Locke. Still, he concealed the true origin of the bruises on his face. The group of four walked directly into the medical examiner's office.
The medical examiner named Edward had also clocked in right on time.
Seeing Cop and Kaynor come down, he seemed to hold a bit of resentment. "I told you, I would call you once I finished the examination."
Detective Kaynor smiled warmly. "Please, Edward, we just want to know if this body is Anila Katz!"
If it wasn't, then it would be a cold case with an unidentified body.
But if it was, then it would be a proper murder case. Furthermore, the suspect would be obvious. It would even be a brutal, inhumane case of a mother murdering her daughter.
As Carrie listened to Detective Kaynor's analysis, her expression turned somewhat ugly.
After all...
Her own mother had also tried to kill her. Just like the scene before them, the only difference was that Anila hadn't met Locke, while she had.
Medical Examiner Edward shook his head at Detective Kaynor's analysis.
"Solving cases is your job. I'm just a medical examiner. I only believe what the dead say."
He paused.
Edward found a file on the desk and handed it to Kaynor.
Kaynor blanked slightly.
Hadn't he said he was too busy?
Right at that moment.
An assistant walked over. Seeing Detective Kaynor's expression, the assistant spoke up, "Detective Kaynor, Medical Examiner Edward ran the test results last night after clocking out. I accompanied him. He said you all were very anxious, so he decided to work some overtime."
Hearing this, Detective Kaynor looked gratefully toward Medical Examiner Edward. "Thank you, Medical Examiner Edward."
Edward glared at the talkative assistant and said to Detective Kaynor, "I just did what I could. The cause of death and other information are all written inside. See for yourselves."
Detective Kaynor took the file, walked back to Cop's side, and opened the document in her hands.
She flipped it open.
The deceased's fingerprints matched one of the fingerprints on the hairpin.
"This..."
"Anila Katz!"
"Oh my god."
Although Carrie had already accepted Anila Katz's death from Locke, actually receiving this confirmation made the reality somewhat difficult to take.
Locke also raised an eyebrow slightly.
Yesterday, when he heard this Medical Examiner Edward say he had no time and that they needed to wait in line by the book, Locke had thought some trouble would arise with this medical examiner.
But right now?
It seemed this Medical Examiner Edward was truly the type of person who was cold on the outside but warm on the inside.
So to speak.
The Dolan Church here had directly chosen to lying flat under the reputation of his legal team?
They weren't even putting up a struggle?
Come on, you guys are the local powerhouses. Can't you stand tall? I'm still waiting for you to flip the table. After all, if you don't flip the table, how am I supposed to blow things up?
If he didn't blow things up, how was he going to complete his quest, [Release That Witch]?
Surely the Dolan Church here, especially that Jim Rhodes, wouldn't actually become the first lucky bastard to find that sole glimmer of survival from his hands and successfully reverse his own fate, right?
Locke felt somewhat speechless.
Over there, Cop looked at the report, a look of joy flashing across his face as he took out his phone.
Very quickly!
George, who had taken the day off today to stay home with his young daughter, looked at the phone in his hand and answered, "Hey, good morning, Cop. It should only be seven o'clock on your side."
It was eight in the morning in New York, and New York time was an hour ahead of New Orleans.
As he spoke.
Thud, thud, thud.
George looked up, hearing footsteps coming from upstairs. He watched the footsteps shift past the stairs, followed by a cough. Gwen, with her large ponytail tied up, walked down the stairs with a completely normal expression.
"Hmm?"
George looked at Gwen greeting him, silently calling her an ungrateful daughter in his heart once again. He then frowned as he listened to Cop's voice on the other end of the line.
"For real?"
Gwen, who was walking toward the kitchen pretending to pour water, perked her small ears up like antennas.
George had already stood up from the sofa, his expression serious. "Alright, I understand. I'll arrange for personnel to head over right away."
With that.
George hung up the phone, immediately dialed Beckett's number, gave a few instructions, and hung up once more.
He looked up.
George was startled. Looking at Gwen, who had been five steps away just a moment ago but was now silently standing right in front of him, he directly ignored her. "Helen!"
Helen, who was calculating expenses over in the dining area, looked up. "What's wrong?"
Looking at Gwen, whose eyes were tearing up again as she blinked her large eyes, George's heart softened once more. He let out a sigh.
"Carrie's friend has been confirmed dead."
"Ah!"
"Cop just told me. The body's fingerprints have been confirmed."
"That's not right."
Helen put down her pen. "Didn't you say yesterday that you sent officers to ask that mother named Katz? Didn't she say her daughter went camping with relatives?"
George said, "So Cop called me to ask if I could arrange for officers to deliver Katz's mother to him, saving him the time of traveling back and forth."
Gwen's eyes lit up. "Dad, why don't you escort her over?"
That was perfect.
That way, she could legitimately tag along as well.
People in deep love felt that even being glued together twenty-four hours a day wasn't enough.
George's expression distorted slightly. He wished he could slap himself for his soft-heartedness just now.
He clearly knew his eldest daughter had already completely become someone else's property, so why did he still soften up?
Damned doting father.
Hearing Gwen's suggestion, Helen stood on George's side instead, looking at Gwen.
"If you want to go yourself, just tell Locke and go. With you being with Locke, I feel much more at ease than when you're with your dad."
Gwen shook her head. "I was just saying."
Right as they spoke.
George's phone rang once again.
"Beckett?"
"George."
Beckett, who was at the precinct holding her phone, looked at the photo sent back by the officers who had just been deployed to Katz's mother's house. Looking at the photo and the note, she opened her mouth.
"George, the person you wanted is dead."
"...What?"
"Buson Katz committed suicide at home. The patrol officers just discovered it."
"..."