Two days later, in the afternoon, at the Mounted Police unit.
"He didn't take leave? Where the hell did that kid go?" Jaron glared at the colleague on duty in the office.
"Who knows, he hasn't shown up at the station for two days," the colleague said, glancing at the attendance sheet.
Jaron felt a flicker of unease.
God damn it, stinking brat, what's with the unexplained absence at a time like this?
Ever since he discovered that irritating prison guard was investigating Veronica's case, he had been keeping an eye on Bruce Cain's movements.
The kid was truly unreliable, likely to spill everything with just a bit of intimidation, which is why Jaron had been giving him warning shots these past two days.
In theory, even if Bruce was timid, by now he should have understood his situation, considering they were now tied together like grasshoppers on a string.
But Jaron had not expected Bruce to be such a coward as to scare himself into staying home and not coming to work. Didn't he realize how suspicious this made him look?
He was seriously considering having someone take care of him for good!
"Help me find out where this kid lives. I want to go have a look," Jaron instructed his colleague.
"Since when are you so close to him?" his colleague asked, looking somewhat astonished.
"Quit your nonsense and just find it for me…" Jaron snapped impatiently.
The colleague was somewhat dissatisfied with his attitude but had gotten somewhat used to it. Jaron Lorton's office wasn't high-ranking in the team, but his behavior towards others, brandishing the influence of his politician father, was notoriously arrogant.
The old-timers in the team didn't take his upstart political father seriously, but most preferred not to clash with Jaron over trivial matters and bring bad luck upon themselves.
Just as the colleague was about to look through the personnel files in the drawer, the office door swung open and five men in uniforms completely different from those of the mounted police surged into the office.
The middle-aged man leading them scanned both men with a sharp gaze and asked, "Which one of you is Jaron Lorton?"
"That's me…" Jaron said, surprised by the uninvited guests. "Which unit are you from? What do you want with me?"
"I'm Tig Osenro from the prosecutor's office," the man flashed his badge, "we've come specifically to seek your assistance in reviewing a case. Please come with us."
"Which case?" Jaron's face turned pale instantly.
Besides reviewing cases and initiating prosecutions, the prosecutor's office is also responsible for overseeing other law enforcement agencies, such as investigating misconduct or bribery within the police itself.
Had the prosecutor's office come about a case the Mounted Police unit was currently handling, there wouldn't be a need for such an aggressive display, arriving here and calling someone out by name, especially since Jaron currently had no cases under his responsibility.
This discourteous display... it looked more like they were here to make an arrest.
"We'll tell you about it once you're there. Please come with us," the prosecutor said in an official tone.
"Hold on, you have to follow procedures, this is so sudden... it will affect our department's work. I have duty later on..." Jaron tried to keep his voice steady.
"You're off duty now, we've already spoken to your leadership, here's the document," the prosecutor interrupted him coldly, her tone laced with impatience, "Please come with me."
"No, how can I go with you when it's all so unclear? When did the prosecutor's office start abusing its power like this, huh?" Jaron put on a defiant show, attempting to stall for time, "Let me tell you, my father happens to be a city council member—ever heard of Councilman Anthony Roton? He might even know your superiors!"
The prosecutor rolled her eyes, seemingly having lost her patience. She searched her pockets and pulled out a photograph to show him: "You remember this, don't you."
Jaron looked closely and was immediately stunned.
The evidence photo clearly displayed a golden pocket watch, its rose-gold cover engraved with the figure of a siren.
He distinctly remembered that in his panic that night, he had handed the thing over to Bruce Cain, and then that fool had promptly sold it on the black market... It would have been one thing if it were the police who found the watch on the black market, but its appearance in the hands of the prosecutor's office was inexplicable.
The seasoned prosecutor leaned close to Jaron, whispering in his ear: "Have some sense of the situation. Making a scene will only embarrass you further. Come quietly with us, it will be less damaging."
Jaron's heart sank as he saw his coworkers in the office giving him strange looks, and the other mounted officers gathering in the corridor outside.
Before he could react, the prosecutor's men had already encircled him, pushing him to walk quickly towards the exit of the police station.
Jaron walked with faltering steps, his mind a jumbled mess.
He just couldn't understand how the prosecutor's office had gotten hold of the pocket watch. Could it be that Bruce had turned himself in? Had he been hiding the watch all along? It made no sense—he had been warned, so why do something so foolish? If he had any conscience to that extent, he would never have been so easily bribed in the first place...
He was escorted out of the police station and onto the street where his face was immediately struck pale by a flash of light.
He looked over in shock to see several cameras pointed at him—unbeknownst to him, a crowd of newspaper reporters had gathered at the entrance of the station. As soon as they saw him being led out, the reporters grew excited, and the flashes of their cameras came one after another.
"Why did you bring the media?!" he shouted instinctively at the prosecutor beside him, "Are you deliberately targeting me?"
"This... I have no idea what's going on here..." The prosecutor was just as confused; the operation to catch Jaron at the mounted police unit had been entirely confidential, and without an insider leaking the news, there was no way for the reporters to have been lying in wait.
"Quick, get him in the carriage!" the prosecutor ordered her subordinates.
Jaron suddenly realized—while the prosecutor's office had found out about him, the press had also caught wind and acted, certainly not just because Bruce Cain had surrendered; someone was definitely plotting against him from behind the scenes!
Before he was pushed onto the carriage, he glanced around involuntarily.
Finally, as he stepped onto the carriage steps, his gaze passed over the reporters and onlookers nearby and fell upon a distant street corner.
Under the street lamp at the corner stood a young man in a prison guard uniform, leaning on a cane and looking at Jaron with a smile that held a hint of triumph.
The moment their eyes met, the young man smiled, tipped his hat, and waved as if bidding farewell.
"It's you!" Jaron roared furiously in the direction of the young man.
As the clicks of cameras continued, Jaron's contorted face was captured by the many reporters, and the prosecutor's men hastily pushed him into the carriage.
"Thank me, you're about to hit the headlines, Officer Roton. I didn't forget to make it clear to the reporters that you are the son of a councilman, after all, it's your favorite boast, isn't it?" Standing on the corner, Aiden watched the departing carriage with immense satisfaction. "It's just that, with things blown up this big, your councilman father will probably not only be unable to save you but might struggle to save himself."