Chapter 39

Michael obtained the initial police report from the officer in charge of the case—the burglary at Lynch’s residence. The report included Lynch’s address, the reason for the report, and some on-site notes.

The Federal Tax Bureau is a prestigious department. Michael only had to call in a favor to see the report and even viewed a key piece of evidence that should have been sealed—the gold ring with an inscription.

Michael swore he had never seen the ring before, nor taken it from Lynch’s room.

The ring was worth at most two or three hundred bucks; there was no reason for him to risk anything over it. Yet it appeared on his turf, was taken by young Michael, and was seized at the fencing scene.

That idiot didn’t even know the proper way to fence stolen goods—how could he have stolen the ring?

So Michael became certain this was a setup and immediately went to find Lynch.

He wanted to talk things over, but when he saw Lynch, an unexplainable fury ignited inside him, nearly shattering his reason.

This was the fourth time he had been framed by the same person within a month—something that had never happened before in Michael’s life.

It made him both angry and afraid.

His temper and personality were terrible, but his superiors valued him—not because he was ruthless, but for his ability. Despite many flaws, he was a valuable asset at work.

Yet this proud man was defeated by a nobody who hadn’t even made a name for himself.

Oh no, Lynch was already famous—he just didn’t know it yet. The Lynch Method was officially recognized by over a dozen federal departments—the Tax Bureau, Police, FBI, Homeland Security, and more.

It was a gray-area tactic—more clever, secretive, faster, more dangerous, and harder to control or stop than previous tricks.

It was not a simple scam involving small change. Under Lynch’s advice, Mr. Fox’s laundry business transformed drastically, offering dozens of service options.

Depending on clothing type, quantity, detergents, fragrances, drying methods, and many choices, washing one piece could cost tens of Sol. Manual intervention made it even more expensive.

How they managed to offer so many options with a non-custom washing machine and whether clothes got damaged was uncertain, but they succeeded in speeding up the bleaching process without breaking any laws.

In some ways, Lynch was a talent—an unusual one.

Facing Lynch again, Michael couldn’t control his temper. This time he didn’t hold back, glaring fiercely, “Tell me the truth or don’t expect a good night.”

Lynch smiled slightly. Michael punched him in the upper abdomen, causing spasms where the chest met the belly. Lynch bent over, breathing deeply to calm his diaphragm.

He spat out saliva, his mouth filled with saliva from nausea caused by the spasms.

“You better talk, don’t force me!” Michael growled, eyes red.

His son was about to go to prison, ruining his entire life. No government agency would hire a convicted burglar, nor would large corporations entrust him with important roles. His life was doomed to the bottom.

His wife was severely traumatized. From her and her doctor, Michael learned details—the dealer had humiliated, beaten, and nearly assaulted her.

Michael couldn’t imagine how his beloved wife endured it all and remained strong.

Everything in his life was destroyed by some people.

Lynch’s smile vanished. The spasms were agonizing; he kept heavy breaths to ease the pain, his voice changing.

“You can kill me. They might cover up your minor mistakes but won’t condone or hide your deliberate murder,” he said with a hint of mockery, which only angered Michael more.

Michael struck Lynch’s abdomen again, making him lean against the wall, barely able to stand. “Where’s the dealer? Were you with him that night?”

Lynch froze. He had seen the dealer die on the road out of town. He even imagined someone would report it. Michael didn’t know the dealer was dead—did that mean something else happened?

He was right—few wanted trouble. It wasn’t a simple old lady’s fall but a clear murder scene: blood everywhere, the body stripped clean. No one would become a police surveillance target over someone else’s affair.

As for exposing the corpse in the wilderness—that didn’t happen. the dealer’s body was in a classroom at Sabin City Medical School.

Someone found the body, and for $1,500 sold it to the medical school for research.

Eighty-seven percent of Baylor Federal believed in God and an afterlife; the other thirteen percent rejected God but believed in other things with similar doctrines—burial customs varied but shared the goal of peaceful rest before ascending to an ideal realm.

Fresh bodies for research were rare. Sometimes specimens lasted years without replacement.

It wasn’t a money issue, but a supply problem, which fostered a short-lived profession that quickly vanished.

Because of this, the dealer’s death was not officially recorded or announced across the federation. To law enforcement in Sabin City, the dealer was considered missing.

Neither Lynch nor Michael knew this.

Lynch’s silence only fueled Michael’s rage. Just as he prepared to strike again, Lynch suddenly screamed for help.

The unexpected cry alarmed the nearby tavern. It was night, full of stubborn drunks and troublemakers—they perked up. Lynch grabbed Michael and kept shouting, and soon footsteps climbed the stairs, accompanied by mounted police sirens. Michael was stunned.

He had never experienced anything like this. He’d been harsher on the dealer and others—he had made the dealer spit blood.

They all silently endured; no one had ever screamed for help like Lynch.

Michael had a mental block—he thought Lynch was like the others, criminals who wouldn’t dare call the police or cry for help. He overestimated his judgment and underestimated Lynch’s decisiveness.

Soon Lynch was taken to the hospital, and Michael was driven to the police station with a dark face.