"Cough..."
McClane gave a bitter laugh and led Sephirot into his private office, drawing the blinds shut.
He let out a heavy sigh:
"Stop pulling my leg."
"Lately, Los Santos has been like it's haunted. All sorts of bizarre homicides are cropping up one after another, and we can't even catch a glimpse of the killers' shadows."
McClane fixed his gaze on Sephirot, asking tentatively,
"Can you give a brother the inside scoop? Is something big about to go down in this city? At least let me prepare myself in advance."
Sephirot gave a slight start. An increase in bizarre deaths?
It seemed that Mammon, currently in Hell, followed his impatient nature and was already itching to descend.
However, ordinary police officers wouldn't be able to intervene in matters of this magnitude; telling McClane would only put him in danger.
With some things, it wasn't good to know too much.
"You'd better stay out of this mess. You know how it is."
Sephirot reined in his thoughts and cut straight to the chase. "The incident at the cinema a few days ago, did you handle that?"
McClane's expression shifted. "You're here for that girl named Carrie, too?"
"What's the situation with the deceased?" Sephirot didn't deny it.
"The victim..."
McClane pondered for a moment before speaking.
"The deceased was a high school student with a history of drug use. His father is a doctor at a mental hospital..."
He paused, then added somewhat hesitantly, "The victim's mother is... a bit neurotic. She talks like she's lost her mind. It might just be the grief of losing her son."
He stopped to take a sip of coffee before continuing: "Right now, they're clinging to that girl like leeches, just looking for an excuse to extort a payout."
"Though, I remember that girl was bailed out a few days ago. Don't tell me..."
McClane looked at Sephirot, the implication in his words clear as day.
Sephirot nodded. "A friend of mine handled the bail, and she already paid out a settlement."
"I know."
McClane spread his hands helplessly. "The private transaction wasn't recorded, and there were no witnesses."
"That couple seems hell-bent on playing dumb. There's nothing we can do about them."
"Can you set up a meeting for me?" Sephirot's tone was flat.
Hearing the coldness seeping into the young man's voice, McClane felt the hair on his arms stand up.
He knew this young man's methods all too well.
In the past, any thugs sent in by him were lucky if they were still breathing.
The unlucky ones had to be put back together by the forensic pathologist.
"Sephirot, don't do anything rash."
McClane hurried to pacify him. "I can arrange to meet them at a secluded cafe on the outskirts of town. You can talk it out privately."
He paused, leaning in closer. "Just keep it clean. I'll take care of the rest." "Still, you'd better wrap this up quickly. It seems someone higher up has noticed something off about the girl lately."
"Thanks."
Sephirot nodded.
With the business concluded, something suddenly occurred to him. "By the way, there's someone named Angela, you should know her, right?"
"Angela Dodson?"
McClane nodded. "Of course. Her sister jumped to her death a while back, and she hasn't been able to accept it. She's been investigating the matter like a woman possessed."
He rubbed his chin, a look of realization dawning on him. "Come to think of it, I purposefully recommended your Agency to her. Why? Did she actually show up at your door?"
"Something like that."
Sephirot didn't care to explain. He tossed his empty paper cup into the trash.
"I'm out."
On the outskirts of Los Santos, there was a diner famous for its cherry pie.
In an age of rapid technological advancement, this restaurant still maintained its classic last-century black-and-white floor tiles and drive-in service stalls.
This old-school style felt out of place in the clamor of Los Santos, yet it had become a sanctuary for many disillusioned young people seeking escape.
In a red leather booth by the window, Steve rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a deep sigh.
In just a few short months, it felt as though his family had been cursed by a demon.
First, his eccentric mother-in-law passed away, followed by the accidental, tragic death of his young daughter.
Now, his only remaining son was dead, and they couldn't even piece together enough of his body for a full corpse.
One bereavement after another had left this middle-aged man utterly exhausted, body and soul.
Steve's weary eyes flickered toward his wife sitting beside him.
Annie was neurotically gnawing on her fingernails, muttering something under her breath.
This half-mad version of his wife felt like a stranger to him.
In truth, Steve knew perfectly well that the root of this entire mess lay with his own pathetic son.
A grown man hiding in a girl's restroom wearing a ghost costume just for a prank... if he ran into someone with a short fuse, he deserved to be beaten to death.
He just hadn't expected the girl to have such a violent temper.
His original plan was to take a generous settlement and handle the funeral services quietly.
The family was wealthy enough; once they endured this period of grief, he could take his wife to adopt a child, and life would eventually get back on track.
What he couldn't understand was why Annie insisted on digging her heels in, demanding endless compensation like a greedy street thug.
Fortunately, word came from the police station yesterday that the other party's representative was willing to step forward today to settle the matter.
Steve secretly clenched his fists. He had to end this suffocating farce today.
Ding-ling...
The diner door pushed open, the pleasant chime of the wind chimes interrupting Steve's thoughts.
He looked up to see a young man in a trench coat enter. After ordering an ice water at the counter with a smile, the man walked straight toward their table.
Sephirot stopped outside the booth, looking at the couple with a calm expression.
The man looked haggard and spent, while the woman seemed on the verge of a breakdown.
They looked like poor souls ground down by life; no wonder they were clinging so desperately to the settlement money.
However, he still planned to try communication first. If they proved stubborn and unreasonable, he knew his way around a fight well enough.
As soon as Sephirot sat down, he sensed something off.
A foul, rotting stench emanated from the woman across from him, as if she were tainted by something unclean.
Even though the scent was extremely faint, Sephirot, who dealt with such things year-round, could never mistake it.
The smell of a demon.
His expression remained unchanged. He had thought this was just a simple case of extortion.
Now it seemed this matter might not be as straightforward as he had first assumed.
While Sephirot was observing them, Steve was also covertly sizing him up.
This representative was too young; his skin was taut, without a single wrinkle.
He looked like a high school student who hadn't even graduated yet.
Steve caught the flash of coldness in the young man's eyes as he sat down.
Was it impatience? Or was it a deliberate show of force meant to intimidate him?
As a doctor who worked with mental hospital patients for years, he naturally understood micro-expressions and psychology.
"Mr. Steve? Ms. Annie?"
A voice broke his train of thought.
Sephirot sat with his hands crossed on the table, his expression flat.
Steve forced a smile and reached out his hand politely. "Hello, I'm Steve. And this is my..."
He paused, looking at the disheveled woman beside him, and sighed. "My wife, Annie."
"Are you the representative for that girl?"