Mr. White is a typical middle-aged federal man with a somewhat gloomy temperament.
His skin was so white that his eye bags and dark circles were very obvious. His golden brown hair was unkempt and draped over his head. He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt that had been washed to a yellowish colour.
He was wearing a pair of light blue trousers with traces of mending on the edges and corners.
His wife, Mrs. White, looked sick and very... maybe timid, or maybe uneasy. She didn't dare to look up at Lance and the two police officers beside him, and kept her head down.
Even when Officer Braden asked them some questions, it was Mr. White who answered them.
"This gentleman said he had a vague memory that he was lost when he was five or six years old, and someone took him to a carriage and then pressed him down with a haystack."
"He was sold to an ordinary family and worked for the family for free."
"His adoptive father died of illness recently, so he hopes to find his biological parents. I was moved by his desire to go home, so I read the missing persons files he wrote about in LOS City during that period."
"Among them is your police report information. I compared your... appearances and found that you look somewhat similar."
Mr. White looked up and down at Lance with his eyes that seemed to be unable to open, and then nodded, "Yes, he does look a bit like me when I was young, but this does not confirm that he is Steven."
"And...as a father, even though I don't want to admit it, I believe my child may have been killed."
When talking about the murder of his child, Mr. White did not seem too sad. Perhaps his sadness had been filled by countless sorrows in the past.
He calmly stated what he believed to be the truth of the situation, but Officer Braden didn't want to hear it.
"Mr. White, I know that you may find it hard to bear the sudden appearance of a new family member, but I have to say that this child inherited a sum of money from his adoptive father..."
This sentence made Mrs. White suddenly look up at Lance. She had an ordinary appearance but a very pale face.
For three or four seconds, he lowered his head again.
Mr. White's expression also changed slightly, "Excuse me, can I ask...how much money did you inherit from your adoptive father?"
"Two hundred dollars."
To say how much two hundred yuan is, is not necessarily true. After all, based on surface calculations, the actual income of ordinary people is thirty-five to forty yuan, and two hundred yuan is their income for half a year.
But if you consider that they not only have to pay taxes but also have to deduct all daily expenses, saving ten dollars a month may be proof that they are working hard.
Two hundred dollars, twenty months, two years of savings.
This amount of money may not mean much to a rich person, but for a poor family, it can make a huge difference.
"I want to talk to Mr. White alone." Lance took the initiative to make this request. Mr. White thought about it and agreed.
The two walked to the side of the house, which was a single-family house with a "C" shaped yard, a front yard, a side yard, and a back yard.
There were some low shrubs planted in the backyard, which looked very lush, and some small rose-red flowers. Lance was not quite sure what these flowers were.
But the yard was very clean, with few fallen leaves, and it was obvious that they took good care of it.
There was a swing in the side yard that looked quite old. Even though he hadn't sat on it, he could imagine the rusty metal parts making a creaking sound when someone sat on it and swung.
But because this is a suburb, even a detached house with a garden is actually not worth much.
"You can see that I am an Imperial." Lance stated his purpose very straightforwardly. This was a deal, and it should just be a deal.
Mr. White nodded, "Yes, so I know you are not Steven, and he is not from the Empire."
Lance took out a box of cigarettes, which were packed with filters. Not all cigarettes in the Federation now come with filters.
Tobacco companies refused to admit that cigarettes were the main cause of lung disease and found some "human witnesses" from all walks of life. These people with lung disease did not smoke, but they all had serious lung disease.
This allowed them to overturn the view held by some medical institutions that "smoking is the main cause of lung disease." Of course, in order to alleviate people's anxiety, they began to add filters to cigarettes.
The filter at this time is actually very simple, and may even be useless. It just contains some compacted cotton, and it is a bit difficult to suck.
But it is undeniable that when people take out the cotton and take a look at it after smoking, they will think that this thing is really fucking effective.
Cigarettes with filters are generally much more expensive than those without filters.
"Would you like one?" Lance took out one. Mr. White looked at the cigarette in his hand and thought for a few seconds, then finally took it.
Lance took out a lighter and lit the cigarette for him. He noticed that Mr. White's hand holding the cigarette was shaking slightly while he was smoking.
"It's no different from what we roll ourselves," he commented. "It tastes bland."
Lance smiled but said nothing, "We just said that I am from the Empire, and your son Steven is from the Federation."
Mr. White nodded, "Yes."
"I don't have legal status now, so I can't register a company or do the things I want to do that require legal status."
"Mr. White, I am extremely sorry and sad about what Steven has experienced, but life always moves forward and we need to look forward as well."
Mr. White raised his hand. "Just say what you want to say. My brain is not very good. Sometimes I can't understand you..." He gestured up and down with his hand, "...the way rich people communicate."
Lance was not angry, and said with a smile, "I want to use Steven's identity to register for a legal federal identity."
Mr. White took a deep puff of his cigarette. He was beginning to get used to this. He thought for a moment and said, "The price is two hundred dollars."
Lance was afraid that he had something to consider, so he added, "In two years at most, I will be free from the identity of Steven. It was the police who made a mistake. In this way, Steven's identity information will still be his, and I will get what I want."
He first confirmed that he was a federal. As for who he really was, if Lance didn't want to know, the police didn't want to know either.
Mr. White took another deep breath, and his slightly shaking hands steadied a little, "Four hundred dollars."
Lance shook his head. "Mr. Braden has found more than seventy families that meet the age requirements. There will always be someone interested in two hundred dollars, right?"
Mr. White wanted to get some more money. "My wife is sick and my daughter needs money."
"Twenty more for you."
Mr. White took a final puff of his cigarette, threw the butt on the ground, and shook Lance's hand vigorously. "Deal!"
His hands are very rough, he must be someone who does farm work often.
"Let's go talk to Mr. Braden, and then there are some procedures that may require you to go to the police station with me. Is there a problem?"
Mr. White looked much more relaxed. "For two hundred and twenty bucks, I think I'm OK!"
The two men returned to the front yard. From Lance's face, it could be seen that the matter had been settled. Officer Braden was overjoyed. After a brief eye contact between the two, he began to perform his duties.
"Mr. White, you need to go to the police station with me to register, confirm your previous report, sign your signature, and then everything will be over."
"I have no problem."
"Neither have I."
Officer Braden kept the accelerator on the floor and arrived at the police station in the shortest time possible. He had already prepared the report made by the Whites and filled out a case withdrawal form.
In fact, no one cares about this. In the words of Officer Braden, who the hell cares whether a low-level criminal's past report has been withdrawn or closed.
But Lance cared, and Lance told him that customer experience was important, and he kept it in mind.
After everything was done, Mr. White left with two hundred and twenty dollars. Officer Braden told Lance that he would be able to get his identity information, social security number, etc. within a month.
But after Lance gave another fifty dollars, the time was shortened to within a week!
"Lance, if you introduced someone here, I will only charge them half of the handling fee. This is my way of thanking you!"
Thank you so fucking much!
Of course Lance didn't say this. He shook hands with Officer Braden and said, "You solved a big problem for Mr. President!"
Officer Braden was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, "I hope he doesn't send me to jail for this!"
"Okay, I have other things to do. If you run into any trouble in my patrol area, feel free to call the radio and I'll be there right away!"
Coming out of the police station, Lance took a deep breath. The few clouds in the sky were moving slowly, just like people's mood at the moment.
Lazy, peaceful, and without any waves.