When an American catches a cold, even those with insurance are often reluctant to go to the hospital. Usually, doctors will simply send them home, advising them to drink cold water, take some vitamin C, and get bed rest.
Some people might obediently follow this advice, though the effectiveness can vary. However, this treatment plan isn't very friendly to others. Bed rest means temporarily giving up work, losing income, missing planned parties, and not being able to spend a long-awaited weekend with a loved one.
This is unacceptable for many, but if they want to get a quick anti-inflammatory drip like in China, to rapidly alleviate symptoms like body aches, nasal congestion, and runny nose caused by a cold, they must patiently wait in line.
Unless they go to an expensive private hospital, by the time it's their turn for the drip in a public hospital, the cold might have already cleared up on its own after half a month.
Thus, these people often resort to another option. Just like in pre-1949 China, where many poor people, unable to access any medical resources, turned to opium as a miracle cure-all, in modern-day America, opium's synthetic relatives, like OxyContin and fentanyl, are similarly packaged as miracle drugs.
Got a cold? Take three pills a day and say goodbye to all discomfort.
Toothache? Take three pills a day, and the pain will go away as the nerves decay.
Menstrual cramps? Take three pills a day, and get through the period with ease.
Within a month, these people will find they can no longer live without these small painkillers.
The extent of opioid abuse in America can be illustrated by one statistic: a country with just over 300 million people consumes 80% of the world's opioids. In the trunk of LAPD officer Jack's patrol car, there's an emergency kit that always includes a spray called naloxone, specifically used to save those on the brink of death from opioid overdose.
"So, the robbers were actually after these prescription drugs?"
Jack's question was answered.
Angela pointed to the nails sticking out from the raised floorboard.
"See the plastic bag fragments on the nails? The pills were in a plastic bag that got torn when they pulled it out, spilling a few."
Jack could now roughly picture what had happened.
The assailant, having obtained what they wanted, probably let their guard down. They might have planned to take a couple of pills right there and then join their partner downstairs.
The victim, thinking he saw an opportunity, tried to grab the weapon. In the ensuing chaos, the gun went off, and the panicked killer fled with their accomplice.
"It seems like a straightforward case. So, how do we find the killers next?"
Angela, operating her phone without looking up, asked in return.
"If you were me, what would you do?"
Feeling like he was back in the police academy taking his final exam, Jack quickly recalled what he had learned.
"Uh, find out who knew the victim had these prescription drugs. They must be connected to him in some way."
"Find his classmates, close friends. The victim was just a teenager; he couldn't have obtained these drugs on his own. Someone among them must know something, or the killer could be one of them."
"Then, eliminate the elderly, children, and those whose height and build don't match the description given by Christine and her husband. Investigate the background of the remaining people to see if any have ties to drugs or illegal substances."
"So, what are we waiting for?" Angela showed Jack her phone screen.
"I found his school, an expensive private prep school not far from here. Let's go ask around."
In the afternoon, when Jack and Angela returned to the precinct, Chief Gray called them into his office.
"Any results from your investigation?"
Jack silently deferred to Angela. As just an assistant, he knew when to step back.
Angela, a true American, had no such reservations.
"We spoke with some of the victim's friends. The victim underwent a phase of addiction recovery treatment three months ago, which the Christine couple never mentioned."
"This matches the secretions found at the corners of the victim's mouth, which only occur in those with bronchitis or opioid addiction."
Chief Gray's lips curved slightly. Facing Angela, he assumed the role of examiner.
"But accessing the victim's addiction recovery records requires a court order. You have less than 20 hours left. How do you plan to find his addict friends?"
Angela, unhurried and mischievous, replied, "Fortunately, I brought Wilshire's youngest and most handsome officer. He easily got the suspect's name from the victim's ex-girlfriend: Bruno Vinci, who lives in Highland Park."
"The victim, Jeff, was selling prescription drugs to his rich classmates on behalf of this person during school."
Chief Gray was very pleased. He opened the office door and walked out.
"I'll get an emergency search warrant from the judge. You inform Bradford and Harper's teams to take immediate action."
"Damn it."
Angela swore angrily. When the team, fully armed, broke into Bruno Vinci's residence, they found a body lying in a pool of blood, a bloodstained baseball bat, and a shattered phone beside it.
"White sneakers with a red triangle. This Bruno Vinci is the one who attacked Mrs. Christine."
Chief Gray holstered his gun and kicked the shoes on the corpse's feet.
"This death is pretty brutal. Would drug dealers really kill someone so violently over some prescription drugs? Aren't they known for execution-style killings, like a shot to the back of the head?"
Jack muttered, still unwilling to give up, squatting down to check the body's pulse. To everyone's shock, the body suddenly opened its eyes.
Rushing the severely injured drug dealer Bruno Vinci to the hospital, Angela and Jack exchanged looks. John, taking the opportunity to see his old flame, dragged Galis over to ask about the situation.
Galis shook her head. "Severe brain trauma. Even if he survives, he'll likely be in a vegetative state. The patient is in a deep coma now and won't wake up anytime soon."
Angela sighed. It was already 7 PM, and Chief Gray had only given them 24 hours. That meant they had until noon the next day to catch the other killer or obtain decisive evidence, or the case would be handed over to a full-fledged detective.
Having investigated the case to this extent, its outline was clear. Even an idiot could solve it with enough time. What they lacked most now was time. Once the case was transferred, all their efforts would have been for nothing.
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