My Beauty Variety: Starting from Banshee Town

The address mentioned on the phone was close to the West End and quite far away.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, duty vehicles rushed to the scene with flashing blue lights.

At the crime scene, five or six patrol cars had gathered.

The cordon was pulled up, and each patrol officer was asking the passers-by about the witness situation. A blue light shone across half of the sky, and all the police officers looked extremely nervous and angry.

"Bang~~~"

The sound of door closing sounded one after another, and Ethan hung up the police badge with a gloomy face.

Take the lead.

Walk over with a group of people.

"This place is now taken over by the Intelligence Team of the 21st Branch." He lifted up the security tape and shouted to the patrol officers at the scene: "Everyone must cooperate with my work unconditionally."

"Hey."

He pointed to the ambulance that was leaving next to him and shouted loudly:

"Stop it and don't allow it to leave!!!"

Hearing his words, several patrolmen rushed forward and quickly stopped the ambulance that was starting.

Although they were notified of the scene on the way here, when they saw the scene in front of them, the people in the intelligence team slowed down one after another, their eyes filled with angry flames.

"Fake!!!"

Olinsky frowned and pulled off his duck-billed hat bitterly.

Erin couldn't bear to look at it.

Turning around, she looked at the tall buildings in the distance and took deep breaths.

"Crunch."

Stepping on broken glass, Ethan and Hank stepped forward slowly.

A black Buick sedan was parked on the side of the road. The driver's window had been shattered and the windshield had several fist-sized holes.

Director Perry, on the other hand, sat quietly in the driver's seat.

The head droops.

The khaki jacket he was wearing was stained with blood, and a breeze blew away the smell of blood.

Soon, hurried footsteps were heard again.

"Jesus."

Fisher received the notice and hurried over.

Seeing the scene in front of him, his body swayed and his pupils shrank violently.

"Morgan."

Fisher clenched his fists and looked at Ethan angrily: "I will bear the consequences. You only care about one thing, and that is to arrest the person who shot Director Perry. I don't care what method you use."

"I just want the results, I just want to see the murderer."

"Alive and dead."

"It doesn't matter!"

When a person of this caliber is shot dead in the street, the most violent response is inevitable.

No matter how big the trap is, the top brass of the Chicago Police Department will collectively protect him. The reason is very simple. If you can endure this kind of thing, then you will be the next one to be shot.

Ethan stared at Perry and nodded expressionlessly.

The other person was sitting with him a few hours ago, and now he was a cold corpse sitting in a broken car.

This picture is really too impactful.

Without any words from Fisher, Ethan and Hank had made up their minds that no matter who did such a thing, there was absolutely no way they would be allowed to escape.

"Director."

The female patrol officer ran over in small steps and said hello to Fisher.

"Chief Boyt."

His ponytail swung and he nodded to Hank again.

"Chief Morgan."

Burgess' face turned pale. She held the record sheet in her hand and said hastily: "Everyone around has asked. This is what happened just now. Two gunmen approached on foot."

"All shotguns were used."

"The gunman was wearing red and black clothes and no one could see what he looked like."

Looking at Ethan, she nodded and said, "The two people drove a car with a covered number plate and quickly fled the scene."

"Another client was also shot and is still conscious."

The female patrol officer took a deep breath, shook her head and said, "But we didn't have the chance to communicate with him. The ambulance staff had just been carrying out relevant first aid measures on him."

After speaking, Burgess couldn't help but look at Perry again.

No fear at all.

In her heart, she only felt anger and sadness.

Perry had been the director of the 21st Precinct since Burgess was hired as a new employee. It was not until the other party was about to retire that he was transferred from the police station to the second line. It is impossible to say that there is no emotion.

"Reddish black?"

Horsted put his hands on his hips and gritted his teeth and said, "This is the signature color of the Evil Lord Gang."

"Buzz."

At this time, Ethan's phone vibrated.

Looking at the text message sent by the mouse above, he narrowed his eyes.

Thoughts emerged in his mind.

"Hey."

Dissatisfied shouts came from the distance: "Walter, there is a patient who was shot in the car. I need to take him to the hospital as soon as possible."

The first responder wearing a dark blue ambulance uniform was stopped by two patrolmen. He was so anxious that he jumped to his feet, spread his hands and waved vigorously at a few Chicago police officers who were obviously the leaders not far away.

Amidst his shouts, a group of men looking fierce came over.

That momentum scared the young man and took a step back.

"How is the condition of the person inside?" Ethan glanced towards the half-covered tail door of the ambulance and asked the first responder.

"He's a lucky guy."

The white boy swallowed and pointed to his shoulder: "Here was hit by two projectiles, causing a penetrating injury."

"But." He said angrily:

"This is also an unfortunate guy. He was stopped by a group of policemen and refused to go to the hospital for emergency treatment."

"Believe me."

Ethan patted his shoulder and said solemnly: "That's not the most important thing now."

The patrolmen moved aside, and he opened the door and quickly got in. Hank quickly followed behind and closed the thick tailgate with a bang, blocking the footsteps of those behind him.

A person can only wait outside.

As the person involved, Carter definitely knew the most. There was no time for him to finish the operation and then ask questions slowly.

And the situation is urgent.

Given the other party's situation today, he might have to resort to some means.

Olinsky realized this and immediately waved his hands to drive the people around him away. The white first aid man was also pushed aside by two burly patrolmen.

Inside the ambulance.

Carter was leaning on the gurney, his clothes torn open, exposing his upper body.

The gauze was stained with blood.

There were big beads of sweat on his dark face.

"Hey."

Seeing the two people coming in, he struggled and said, "I fired back, but it all happened so fast."

"There's no time to waste, just listen to me."

Hank sat down next to him and asked word for word: "Is the murderer from the Evil Lord Gang? I need clues!"

"no."

Carter shook his head slowly and said angrily: "They pretended to be, but they weren't. I saw the front of a person. Although he was wearing a hijab, I could still recognize him at a glance. His nickname was Pharmacy. He was from the Latin Monarch Gang."

"Why?"

The corner of his eye twitched, and Hank said sternly: "Since you know him, he must be here for you."

"Why are these people hunting you?"

Carter was stunned for a moment, and quickly said with trembling lips: "I don't know."

"oh?"

Ethan clicked on his phone and looked at the content on it, and said with interest: "So, I guess you don't know about the murder that happened in the apartment at No. 219 West Lake Road in Jackson Park last month, right?"

The fluttering words made Carter's pupils shrink violently.

The sweat on his forehead came more quickly. (End of chapter)