The next morning.

Outside the city council, above the steps, a small podium is set up.

Gordon looked at the dozen or so supporters with lost expressions below, and lowered the microphone bitterly: "Thank you very much for your support during this time. ”

"I didn't expect this news."

"However, due to my personal health condition, I made this difficult decision with the strong advice of my doctor."

"Again, I will withdraw from this election."

Barely squeezing out a smile, he whispered, "Let me congratulate Mr. Ethan Morgan here, I believe that he has the ability and enthusiasm to lead Banshee Town to continue to meet various challenges. ”

Scarce applause rang out.

"Cheer up."

"You're a good mayor, don't do that."

"Rest well, good health is the most important thing!"

There are still a few nails in the rotten ship.

Gordon has been the mayor of the town for two or three years, not to mention that there is no one who supports him, and many people on the scene cheered him on.

It's just that the scattered sounds make the scene even more deserted.

After thanking his supporters, Gordon looked into the distance with emotion, and the town council and town hall were actually in the same building, and the steps of the gate were opposite a street park.

Outside the park is a straight, wide road.

A Ford pickup truck was parked on the side of the road, and the people inside seemed to be watching him.

In that direction, he nodded without a trace.

Inside the car.

After making sure that the other party did not regret it, Ethan immediately drove away, but instead of going to the campaign office, he went straight to the Banshee Town Police Station.

This time, he was an eyewitness.

Last night's case was well suppressed by Brock, and everything was just a clash of elements on the road.

Despite the fact that many people died.

The death was so tragic that it caused people to vomit.

But again, as long as it does not involve ordinary people, no matter how hard those Taoist elements are beaten, the police will not expand the situation.

It doesn't matter if it's Chicago or Banshee Town.

The principle is the same.

Don't make a fuss on the bright side, then the less scum in these societies, the better.

Soon arriving at the Banshee Town Police Station, Ethan walked up the steps with ease, he had been through so much, and what happened last night would not have any psychological impact on him.

"Mr. Morgan."

A greeting rang out.

As the hottest character in town lately, he's treated this way wherever he goes now.

Whoever it was, he returned the same standard smile.

Walking into the lobby on the first floor, Bunker's eyes collided, the latter's expression was a little unnatural, it was hard to imagine that it was the refreshing-looking guy in front of him who did that kind of thing last night.

Despite the mental preparation.

But I really didn't expect that Morgan would be even more unscrupulous and destructive than when he was in Banshee Town before.

Soon, he regained his composure.

No matter what.

This person is on his side.

"Let's skip those boring steps." Brock walked down the stairs, frowned and said, "The main purpose of coming here this time is to let you recognize the person and confirm the identity of the deceased." ”

"This damn campaign office assault is over!"

"Died for no apparent reason."

The sheriff slammed the case file onto the table and muttered dissatisfiedly, "What a bargain for those bastards." ”

Even if things are pressed.

But after all, he was still fighting for life and death on his turf, and Brock still had a fire in his heart.

"That's right."

Ethan opened the case file and saw the photos taken last night, slammed his fist on the table, and said angrily: "It's this mom who provokes Fake, what's going on?" ”

The chest is constantly rising and falling.

The whole person looked quite indignant.

The corners of Bunker's eyes twitched slightly, and he unhurriedly told the story of last night.

He knew, though, that no one knew better what was going on in that building than this guy who was feigning anger.

"Alright."

Brock patted Ethan on the shoulder and comforted helplessly: "If you guessed correctly, it must be those white supremacists who provoked some enemy, everyone is dead, don't take it to heart." ”

"What else can I do?"

Ethan pursed his lips and waved his hand helplessly.

"Bunker."

At this moment, Siobhan's somewhat trembling voice came from the intercom on the desktop next to him: "There was a homicide near Dave's farm, call the sheriff together, I think you all need to come and take a look." ”

"God, I swear."

"If it weren't for what happened last night, I'd never seen anything like this."

A few people here looked at each other in amazement, and there could be something like last night!

Brock: They immediately went outside.

Idle is also idle.

Now that the victory is decided, there is no need to maintain that high-intensity vote.

Curious about what was going on, Ethan got into a pickup truck and drove with them to the location Siobhan had said.

On the outskirts of town.

Follow the patrol car and drive quickly along the country road.

The surroundings are vast winter countryside, with a large expanse of moorland on the left covered with a thick carpet of snow and scattered trees.

On the right is a dense forest.

Twenty meters high, the trees hugged by the two can be seen everywhere.

From time to time, birds fly over the treetops, a refreshing scene.

After a while, I saw more than a dozen cars in front of me.

Two policewomen, Siobhan and Cruz, pulled up their cordon and waved the townsfolk away.

It's different from last night.

Things in the factory can be handled cleanly.

It doesn't attract much attention except for the people involved, but it's different here, although the place is remote, but after all, it's still next to the road.

Therefore, there are still many people who come to watch the excitement.

Naturally, the level of attention is also different.

With a swing of the steering wheel, the Ford pickup truck pulled off the road and stopped on a nearby hillside.

Close the door and get off the bus.

Ethan greeted a few familiar townsfolk before following Brock towards the tree fenced by the cordon, sensing a few glances on him as he went.

Vaguely, I also felt a hint of hostility.

He looked in that direction with a frown, and saw several white men leaning against a pickup truck, watching the excitement.

These people seem to have an inexplicable deterrent power.

None of the onlookers were willing to approach the gang and were very jealous of them.

The man in the middle had short blond hair.

Ice blue eyes.

The burly figure looks quite imposing.

Watts!

Ethan certainly knew about his opponent, and he recognized this guy at a glance, and the other party obviously recognized him.

It could be seen that Watts was in a bad mood.

Still, he squeezed out a kind smile and nodded to himself.

Hostility emanated from the well-behaved man standing next to him, whose face was faintly visible as Bunker's shadow.

Ethan tugged at the corners of his mouth and continued walking.

Bunker, on the other hand, stopped.

He clasped his belt with both hands and looked at his former companions with a blank expression.

"Fake."

Parting the crowd, Brock let out a low curse.

I saw half a white man tied to a tree trunk with iron chains, his head drooping, and a layer of snow floating on his clothes.

The reason why it's half.

Because the white man was torn off at the waist, his legs were five or six meters from the trunk of the tree.

The distance in between was a corridor paved with minced meat and red ice crystals, a tragic trail that had been dragged out, shining in the sunlight. (End of chapter)