Given Jones's suggestion, Kateman and Lei certainly had no reason to continue to refuse.
On the way up the mountain, although no words were spoken, Fu Qian, who continued to sit in the police car, could feel that the sheriff's attitude had become slightly more amiable.
It seemed that after the previous crime scene investigation, in his mind, his own suspicion index had dropped a bit.
From a cold-blooded animal who covered up his crime after hitting someone, he became a psychopath who could occasionally offer valuable suggestions.
"Where did you go after your wife drove out yesterday?"
In an even more depressing atmosphere than before, Jones suddenly asked, looking at Harold as if he had remembered something.
"I was at home all the time..."
"Does anyone have proof?"
"No one can prove it."
Harold responded fluently to the sheriff's questions, only his mood sounded quite repressed, hunched over in his seat, looking rather dejected.
"I hardly went out all day."
Right.
