Russell nodded, "Not only that, but our people also examined the murder weapon, that is, the double-edged long dagger, and the blood type identification confirmed that there were two blood types on it, and the blood stains on the knife body were AB type, which matched the blood type of the nanny."

The blood stains on the hilt of the knife are type O, which is consistent with the blood type of the boy Hubble and his father, T.C. Riodan. ”

James Bryce suddenly got up, and the flesh on his cheeks couldn't help shaking because of his violent movement, and it looked very Q-bombed.

"I'm curious to know how this Gou Niang will explain all this."

——

"I contacted the police station in San Francisco, which is your hometown, in fact, I just wanted to check your nanny, only to find out that your past is not simple."

The conference room where several people are now is actually the layout of an interrogation room, a table with an emergency light on it, and only a chair on each side of the table.

At one end sat Russell, and at the other sat the missing boy's father, T.C. Riodan.

It was Inspector Bryce who spoke, and he was pacing slowly around the table at the moment, which seemed to be a way for him to put pressure on the other party.

Pretending to be a recorder, Jack moved a chair and sat next to Russell, hiding his body completely in a dark corner, like an inconsequential little transparent.

Russell flipped through the information in front of him, and it was the pile of faxes from the San Francisco Police Department in Inspector Bryse's hand when the two of them first arrived at the police station, and he continued the detective's words.

"You said your wife died five years ago, but you didn't seem to have forgotten to mention how she died, and drowning in your own pool is very suspicious."

Jack seems to be concentrating on the recording work, the tip of the pen rubs against the paper, making a rustling sound, but in fact he is drawing a pig's head in a circle, and he seems to be busy with his head down, and he has been observing TC Riordan with his spare eyes.

This is a wealthy man whose class attributes can be determined by his appearance alone, and his well-maintained face makes it impossible to tell whether he is in his thirties or forty-five as shown in the information.

He has a tough face line, short black hair, a very capable temperament, a bit of Tom Cruise, but there is a lingering sadness between his eyebrows, he is not impatient when he speaks, he speaks clearly, and he looks like he is well educated.

"What does this have to do with my son's disappearance?" TC Riordan asked, confused, as if he hadn't understood why he had been invited.

Inspector Brace walked over to Russell and stopped, his hands propped up on the table, his chubby face unfurled.

"I'll be blunt, the San Francisco police have always suspected that you killed your wife in a fit of rage, and I think you did the same to the babysitter and then get rid of the only witness, your son."

"Looks like we're only going to find your son's body, right?"

After saying that, he stared at TC Riodan's lowered head.

"Actually, this kidnapping drama is just a drama, right?"

TC Riordan raised his head and looked directly at the old detective, with anger, disdain, and suppressed pain in his eyes.

"I told the San Francisco police, and now I'll repeat it to you, I'm innocent, and what I say is the truth."

"Yes, but you seem to have overlooked some important facts, such as who Haber's birth mother really is." The old detective interrupted him.

"Your babysitter, Sherby Bryce."

Jack suddenly raised his head and took in the expression of TC Riodan's at this time, which was very interesting, not the panic or annoyance of being exposed, but the disdain?

It's like a rebellious little boy in adolescence, who was wronged by his parents, and would rather be beaten than explain, and there is an indescribable middle two atmosphere.

"We confirmed with the local hospital in San Francisco that she was indeed Hubble's biological mother." Russell whispered.

is still white-faced and red-faced, the old detective plays the white face of pressure at this time, creating a tense atmosphere, and Russell naturally plays the red face to eliminate the antagonism of the interrogated object and win trust.

"That makes sense." The old detective saw that TC Riordan bowed his head and was silent, so he could only put further pressure.

"Your wife found out that Sherby was pregnant with your child, and she wanted a divorce and wanted to divide your property, only to die in her own pool."

"And then there's your mistress, Sherby, who ended up dying in your back garden, and I have to say, you've got a knack for women, man."

However, in the face of the old detective's ridicule, TC Riordan only opened his mouth, but closed it again, and continued to remain silent.

The old detective and Russell looked at each other, feeling a little tricky, and the former immediately opened a PAD on the table, revealing a picture of a long dagger on it.

"Have you ever seen this knife?"

This was just sent from the laboratory, and the corpse could not be further autopsied, and even the test-tube centrifugation and microcolumn gel methods, which are commonly used for blood tests, could not be used due to the lack of electricity.

The former requires a centrifuge, while the latter requires a fully automated blood grouping analyzer.

Fortunately, there are some anti-A and anti-B reagents in the laboratory, and the blood type can still be determined by using the slide method to observe whether the red blood cells produce clots with the naked eye or an ordinary microscope.

The long dagger in the photo was stained with blood, and just when a few people thought that TC Riordan would still remain silent, he readily admitted it.

"Yes, it's mine, it's in my home."

"It's better to say it's on Sherby's back." The old inspector's words made TC Riordan stunned and inexplicable, and looked at the two with round eyes.

"How do you explain that we found out that the blood on the blade was hers, but your blood was on the hilt?"

To everyone's surprise, TC Riodan admitted it very calmly.

"It's my blood, but I didn't kill anyone."

He paused, as if struggling with something, and then relieved, and continued to explain in a tone of your love or not.

"I'm just offering my blood to the dead."

Russell, who was sitting opposite him, subconsciously glanced at the old detective, his eyes were full of incredulity, what kind of magical development is this?

Even Jack, who was pretending to be a record, couldn't help but stop scribbling and looked up at the rich man again, wondering if he had just heard it wrong.

Seeing that everyone looked uncertain, TC Riodan happily pulled open the sleeve of his right hand and showed everyone the wrist wrapped in gauze.

"When I was summoned, I used this knife to cut open the veins and take some of the blood."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" The old detective looked stunned, and he had a heavy punch that had been planned for a long time, but it felt like it was in the air.

(End of chapter)