Seeing the small fountain, Sinclair paused, her small face flushing red. "Ring toss! This is the place for ring toss, there's no mistake! My companion even threw those plastic rings into this fountain!"

Hearing her words, Dean's mind immediately conjured the image of his mom, Sheila, taking the bag Sinclair brought back, her hands covered in dust!

Fuck! Got it!

Someone had mixed drugs into a plaster-like material for transportation.

But this was just too outrageous! Who has ever seen someone turn drugs into shoddy camouflaged products, offering ten chances for one US dollar to play ring toss for fun? Unless the stall owner was also unaware of the real nature of those plaster creations!

Also frozen in shock was the amusement park manager. When he heard Sinclair say the place where the drug-sniffing dogs lingered was actually the ring toss stall's area, his expression changed subtly in the night. This didn't escape Lawrence, who had been standing by his side.

Lawrence slung an arm around the man's shoulder, smiling. "Buddy, who's the vendor here?"

"I... I don't know," the manager said, held firmly by the large detective, forcing out a reluctant smile. "This is the back entrance. To make it more fun for visitors, we allow vendors to set up stalls freely. I can't possibly know every one of them."

"Are you sure you want to lie in front of so many veteran detectives?" Lawrence tightened his grip, nearly lifting the man off the ground, and threatened in a low voice, "Buddy, I must remind you, standing in front of you is our Fourth Squad's 'Headshot' Detective. And the victim he's holding is his own sister. No one can harm a police officer's family and get away with it! We can find that guy without your help; it'll just waste a bit more time. But if he gets away because of you... Heh, heh... You'd better think carefully before you speak!"

Hearing the open threat from the detective who looked like a butcher, the middle-aged manager looked helplessly toward the other officers. This burly, fleshy-faced detective, for all his apparent effort to speak quietly, was about as inconspicuous as a giant trying to do needlepoint; his voice carried clearly in the night.

What drove the manager to despair was that the patrol officers, clearly hearing everything, suddenly became very interested in their surroundings,牵着狗子东张西望 (tugging their dogs and looking around), as if some beautiful flower was hidden in an empty area, pointedly ignoring what was happening here.

Fuck, a bunch of thugs! he cursed inwardly, still trying to resist.

The next moment, an indifferent gaze fell upon him. The young detective holding the girl had now turned his gaze upon him, his face showing undisguised impatience.

What kind of gaze was that!

The middle-aged manager swore to himself. Even the pig slaughterer he knew, a man who'd worked desensitized in the abattoir for ten years, didn't possess such a cold, indifferent gaze towards life. Compared to the verbal threats of the big detective next to him, that look was undoubtedly more oppressive and persuasive.

The middle-aged manager swallowed hard and stammered, "Sorry, I was shocked just now and remembered incorrectly. This area seems to be my nephew's spot. He's a bit of a scoundrel, but I don't think he'd deal drugs."

"Call him!" Dean ordered. Then, holding a somewhat tired Sinclair, he sat on the fountain's circular ledge, waiting for the culprit to turn himself in.

...

BRRRING... BRRRING...

The middle-aged manager repeatedly dialed his brother-in-law's phone.

No answer!

Still no answer!

Under the close watch of Lawrence, the burly detective with the fleshy face, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and then called his nephew, his nephew's wife, and their home landline... Not one call connected.

Watching this fruitless performance for several minutes, Dean glanced carefully at Sinclair, who had already fallen asleep in his arms. He waved to Carlo and Harry, who were smoking out of boredom. "Guys, that manager's nephew has probably been silenced. Could you please take my sister home? Lawrence and I will handle this tonight."

"No problem," Harry said, stretching out his arms, wanting to take the little girl from Dean.

Dean dodged him with a look of disdain and passed Sinclair to Carlo, who couldn't help but grin widely in silent laughter.

Harry looked aggrieved. "Dean, are you disgusted with me?"

"I just don't want my sister exposed to a scumbag!" Dean glared. "Or do you want to find out how I deal with scumbags who come near my sister?"

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Don't be like that! I'm just amorous, not a creep! You're breaking my heart!"

"Get lost!"

...

Watching Harry and Carlo leave with his sister Sinclair, Dean walked over to Lawrence and the manager.

The middle-aged manager instinctively took a step back, saying timidly, "Detective, I swear, I don't know what's going on, but I really can't get through to their family!"

Lawrence, seasoned with experience, reached the same conclusion as Dean. "Looks like this guy isn't playing tricks. I suspect his nephew's situation isn't very good right now!"

It was now past ten in the evening, too early for most people to be asleep, and just about the time the nightlife was getting started. Under normal circumstances, neither home phones nor personal cell phones should go unanswered for so long.

Dean nodded and looked at the middle-aged manager, who was beginning to look increasingly troubled. "Buddy, your nephew's family seems to be in a precarious situation right now. If you don't want anything to happen to them, take us to their house immediately."

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