Wine and Gun

"Maybe she used the gun she got earlier to beat us into a sieve to vent her anger, and then swallowed the gun to kill herself." Olga snorted coldly, "Then we'd better hurry up, Areo. I want us to be there within 20 minutes, otherwise it will hurt Al. Although the place is very close, it is not easy to walk in such weather..."

She stared at McCard's face, her voice unconsciously getting smaller and smaller; finally she shut up, for almost half a minute, and said, "Fuck, aren't you?!"

"What?" Hardy said confusedly, not understanding where the conversation was going.

"Sorry, Bart, I have to talk to Special Agent McArd now." Olga said suddenly through gritted teeth, reciting McArd's surname and rank very rarely.

She grabbed McArd's elbow rudely, and began to drag him to a place where no one was in spite of his objection; while dragging Olga, she gave Herstal a glance, and casually reassured: "It's all right, we promise. Go save your princess in twenty minutes, don't be nervous."

Herstal still didn't show any particularly out of control expression, but if he was really not nervous at all, it might be time to make a mockery of Olga's not particularly clever joke - but he still didn't, He just nodded with a sullen face, so he was definitely still anxious.

And Olga dragged McCard all the way to a place where others couldn't hear them at all, and then let him go. McArd frowned and took a step back, trying to smooth out the folds of the cuffs that were stretched out. He seemed to be about to say something when Olga took the lead and said, "I know what's on your mind."

"I thought we just said today that profilers are not psychic mediums," McCard said in disapproval.

Olga glared at him with a fierce tone: "And you are obviously still obsessed with our previous conversation - you came to me at the end of October and said you thought Albarino was a serial murderer."

"I'm still on my mind," McCard pointed out smoothly, "in case you forgot..."

"Oh, you thought he was the Westland pianist, and then he was kidnapped by the Westland pianist and hung on the wall of the morgue. It was you who thought the CSI's determination of the murderer's modus operandi was Wrong, or do you think Al can hang himself on the wall?" Olga said coolly.

"Maybe I was wrong about the pianist, and that's what I'm here for." McCard shrugged and continued, "We also have to rely on intuition sometimes—as I That said, I don't think an average forensic doctor would look like that, and we've talked about that. Do you think it's possible that Dr. Bucks was a Sunday gardener?"

"Oh, it turns out that you don't let your subordinates and me rely on intuition when handling cases. When you want to rely on intuition, you can rely on it yourself." Olga choked back, "And, McArd, I can now Not talking to you about who the gardener is - what I'm talking about is: you still think Al is a serial killer, and it turns out just in time for him now that bloody mold is kidnapped by another serial killer and threatens to tear us apart if we don't go , then, your bright little head will naturally think..."

"Molozer—" McCard's voice suddenly increased.

But he couldn't finish speaking, because the next second Olga grabbed his neckline and pulled him heavily in front of him. Given Olga's size, it's hard to imagine that she could burst out with such great power all of a sudden. McArd stumbled abruptly, and stuck his hand on Olga's wrist.

"And you're thinking," Olga hissed, with terrifying anger flickering in his eyes, "that you don't have to do what the other party asks you to do, just let Bart take someone to deliver them; Leola may tear up the vote, but if Al is a serial killer you'll kill two birds with one stone, and Al's death isn't a loss - that's what you think in your heart, but you're just struggling with how to do it without violating professional ethics and in a logical way. Just come up with your ideas. With all due respect, it's hard not to be unprofessional when trying to put a hostage to death."

"When did you care so much about work ethic?" McCard shot back.

"I don't care," Olga replied decisively, "What I care about is that you know that a murderer like Blanca Areola is likely to commit suicide after ending the hostage's life, but you still choose to do that. She had a gun in her hand, and Bart wouldn't have a chance to catch her alive: she would definitely choose to shoot Al's head first and then her own head when the police rushed in— —I care that she will die, and if she dies before I can talk to her, who can justify my inference about her?"

"...that's the only thing you care about, 'you're right'. You don't even care about the lives of the hostages." McCard gritted his teeth and said with a deep anger in his tone, "That's why I I don't like you, why do I think you are not suitable for the job of the behavior analysis department."

Olga snorted coldly: "I want to know why everyone kills, only this is important to me. And you gān this job is not even for the 'truth', is it? If you think the hostage Innocent, you're going to do everything in your power to save him now, but now you suspect the hostage is a murderer, then you think 'Isn't that just right? Just let the two of them die together'."

Search [Book Reading Assistant] official address: www.kanshuzhushou.com Millions of popular books are free to read for life without advertisements!