Because someone at the precinct might recognize them, Eve pushed Dean away and retreated into the private room. "Dean, I'll have my best friend pick me up."
"Okay, call me if you need anything." Dean nodded noncommittally and left alone.
「Downstairs.」
Dean ran into an old acquaintance, Hawk. Hawk was directing his men to cordon off a few trash cans with police tape. A number of local residents out for a walk were watching from a distance, and Dean listened to their murmured discussions. It seemed a homeless man rummaging through these trash cans had found a severed hand.
A severed hand?
Dean's heart stirred as he recalled the two FBI agents he had met earlier. They seemed to be tracking a cannibalistic serial killer and had come to Los Angeles for that purpose. He still had Senior Agent Merck's business card in his pocket. If this really is the work of that cannibal, their efficiency is impressive. They've committed another crime so quickly.
