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Fast & Furious: I Got a System and Beca Dom's Boss
LAPD Headquarters. Interrogation Room 3.
Hunter Sun sat comfortably in the tal chair, his posture relaxed. Across the steel table sat two white officers—a Detective Sergeant and a uniford officer.
Because Hunter had co voluntarily and shown zero resistance, they hadn't cuffed him.
"Mr. Sun," the Detective started, clicking a pen. "Please state your whereabouts between 10:00 PM and 3:00 AM last night."
Hunter didn't blink. "I was at my girlfriend's apartnt. Stella Bridger. We were... intimate. Then we slept."
The uniford officer scribbled in his notebook, his face impassive.
The Detective didn't press the alibi imdiately. Instead, he opened a drawer and slid a series of glossy photographs across the table.
"Do you recognize these n?"
Hunter leaned forward, feigning curiosity.
The first two photos were grueso. Handso Rob, slumped over a bloody bedsheet with a hole in his chest. Left Ear, lying in the dirt of his farm, sward by flies.
Hunter's brow furrowed slightly—a perfect micro-expression of discomfort at seeing dead bodies. His [Acting] skill, leveled up to LV3 after weeks of playing the lover, the artist, and the innocent, kicked in effortlessly.
Then, he looked at the next photos: Charlie Croker and Lyle.
Hunter's eyes widened in genuine-looking surprise.
"Wait," he said, pointing a finger. "I know these two. But the other two... never seen them."
The Detective's eyes sharpened. "You know them? Who are they? What do they do?"
Hunter nodded slowly, then shook his head. "This one said his na was Charlie. That one is Lyle. As for what they do... I honestly don't know."
He paused, biting his lip as if debating whether to reveal a secret.
The cops leaned in, sensing blood. "Mr. Sun, three n are dead. If you know sothing, you need to tell us."
Hunter sighed, looking conflicted.
"Alright," he said, lowering his voice. "About a month ago, Charlie hired . He wanted to modify so cars for him. I'm... good with engines."
He glanced at the two-way mirror, then back at the Detective.
"They paid cash. A lot of it. They wanted reinforced chassis, high-torque engines, ramming bumpers. And... electronic counterasures."
Hunter pointed at Lyle's photo. "That guy, Lyle. He's a computer whiz. He installed so heavy-duty tech in the trunks. I didn't understand half of it, but he was directing the whole install."
The Detective's eyes lit up. This was a lead.
"Illegal modifications?" the Detective pressed. "When was this?"
Hunter nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. I knew it wasn't strictly legal, but... the money was good. I didn't ask questions. I just fixed the cars."
The two officers exchanged a glance. The pieces were starting to fit, but not in the way they expected. The victims weren't random targets; they were a crew preparing for sothing big. A heist? A gang war?
Hunter had successfully planted the seed. He wasn't the killer; he was just a chanic who got caught up in their shady business.
For the next hour, Hunter spun a web of half-truths. He detailed how he t Stella (omitting the heist), how he moved in with her, and how he occasionally did under-the-table work for street racers.
By the ti the interview ended, the LAPD had shifted their focus. They weren't looking at Hunter as a suspect anymore; they were looking at Charlie's crew as a criminal organization that had likely been liquidated by a rival gang.
"Mr. Sun," the Detective said, standing up. "We appreciate your cooperation. However, illegal vehicle modification is a federal offense. We may file charges pending investigation."
He leaned over the table. "Until then, do not leave the state of California."
Hunter stood up, flashing a nervous, compliant smile. "Understood, Detective. I'll be right here."
Outside the Station.
The two officers watched Hunter walk down the precinct steps and disappear into the bustling city street.
"What do you think?" the uniford officer asked quietly.
"I don't think it's him," the Detective replied, lighting a cigarette. "The kills were too clean. Two sniper shots from 400 ters? A silenced execution inside a secure hospital? That's professional work. Hitman stuff."
"Agreed," the officer nodded. "We checked Sun's background. He goes to the shooting range, sure, but he's eighteen. No military record. No priors. I don't see a kid pulling off three hits in four hours across the city."
"Plus," the Detective added, exhaling smoke, "Bridger confird his alibi. Said he was with her all night."
"The hacker, Lyle... he seed terrified," the officer mused. "He kept pointing the finger at Sun, but he had zero proof. Just paranoia."
"Lyle is hiding sothing," the Detective grunted. "The dead guys were prepping for a job. My gut says they crossed the wrong people. Maybe a cartel. Maybe the Russians."
"Well, the Chief wants answers. A VIP getting whacked in a private hospital looks bad for everyone."
The Detective flicked his cigarette butt into the gutter. "Let's go sweat the hacker again. See if he cracks."
They turned back inside, leaving Hunter Sun in the clear.
Checkout My New Novel and Drop So Powerstones :
Fast & Furious: I Got a System and Beca Dom's Boss
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