Chapter 37: Locking on the Target, Brothers Emerge
"Whose house is the closest to the crime scene?"
Chuck continued, quickly flipping through the files.
"The nearest house is 3.5 miles away. She couldn't have run that far barefoot in those conditions."
The sheriff shook her head.
"Don't underestimate a person's will to survive. This is still within the realm of human possibility,"
Chuck corrected.
"You're new here, so you might not be familiar with our surroundings..."
The sheriff simply couldn't believe anyone could run that far barefoot in such icy conditions.
"Do you have a local map?"
Chuck interrupted.
He didn't bother explaining that he could do it. It wasn't even an extreme feat driven by a will to survive, but basic training.
"...Yes."
The sheriff paused, glanced at Jane, who smiled apologetically, nodded, and took the local map and placed it in front of Chuck, pointing to a red dot on it. "This is the crime scene."
"Here!"
Chuck glanced at it and pointed to the northeast corner.
"That's a security shed for workers on a drilling rig. Winter has arrived, and the workers are gone. It's also too far from the crime scene,"
the sheriff explained.
"5.3 miles,"
Chuck gave a precise number.
"Yes,"
the sheriff nodded. "3.5 miles might be possible, but 5.3 miles is beyond human limits, isn't it?"
"No,"
Chuck shook his head.
"How do you know?"
the sheriff couldn't hold back any longer.
"Because I'm still human, and I can do it,"
Chuck said, his voice matter-of-fact.
"..."
The sheriff was speechless.
"Even if it were possible, the workers are gone," Jane quickly interrupted.
"There are security guards."
Chuck continued to flip through the files. "With the workers gone, the likelihood of a crime increases significantly."
"That makes sense."
Jane looked at the sheriff. "Do you know the security guards there?"
"I've seen them a few times, but I'm not very familiar with them."
The sheriff shook her head. "That's land leased by the Department of Energy for its own use. Our tribal police department has no jurisdiction, so we rarely go there."
Jane immediately looked at Chuck.
Federal institutions, extraterritorial jurisdiction, violent organizations—these keywords immediately reminded her of the target characteristics Chuck had mentioned in his criminal psychological profiling.
And they were so close, it was a perfect match.
Although she didn't quite understand Chuck's statement that 5.3 miles was still within human limits, she instinctively wanted to believe his judgment.
Chuck didn't look up and continued to flip through the files quickly.
The office was quiet again.
Half an hour later.
Chuck flipped through all the thick files and frowned: "Olson Oil?"
"Yes,"
the sheriff nodded. "The Department of Energy leased the land to Edward Olson's Olson Oil Company."
"It's been twenty years,"
Chuck asked. "His son, Matt Olson, was born here. Is Matt Olson here now?"
"Yes..."
The sheriff's face changed. "Do you suspect Matt Olson?"
"You don't?"
Chuck stood up. "Gather your officers, fully armed, with body cameras on. Let's go investigate the drilling rig."
The sheriff's expression was uncertain.
She knew exactly what kind of person this rich kid was. He was in town, ostensibly for vacation, but the local rumor was he was fleeing a lawsuit.
As sheriff, she knew the whole story better.
Not long ago, Matt Olson and his friends were out on speedboats when they encountered another group of young thrill-seekers. Without saying a word, they started playing chicken, accelerating toward each other at full throttle. Whoever swerved first would lose.
Just before collision, the other group gave up and tried to evade. However, Matt Olson, already victorious, wasn't satisfied and deliberately rammed their boat, destroying it and killing five people.
As usual, his wealthy father cleaned up the mess, hiring white-shoe lawyers from a major firm to easily get him off. He then temporarily escaped the spotlight by taking a vacation in this sparsely populated area.
She wasn't surprised by anything this entitled brat could do.
However, if she rashly implicated him without evidence, the Olson family's power and connections were far too much for a small-town sheriff like her to contend with.
"Go now?"
Jane had no such concerns, simply gazing at the sky outside. "It's not even daylight yet."
"It's over an hour's drive, plus the time it takes to gather the officers and arm them. We'll arrive there just as the sun comes up, catching them off guard and revealing more evidence."
Chuck insisted, looking at the sheriff. "Agent Banner is from the FBI and has federal jurisdiction. You're responsible for assisting."
"I'll gather the officers right away,"
the sheriff said after a moment's hesitation.
"Do you need to be fully armed for assistance?"
After Jane waited for the sheriff to leave, she approached Chuck and quietly asked, "Are you worried about a shootout?"
"There's a high probability,"
Chuck nodded. "Cornered rats will fight back. In a place like this, even if they killed us all, they could easily get away with it using excuses or connections. Our deaths would be meaningless."
"Stay close to me. I'll protect you."
Jane's expression was solemn, and she touched the service weapon at her side.
"Okay."
Chuck nodded. "Most people don't aim for headshots because they're too difficult. I'll be very safe following you."
"..."
Jane was stunned for a moment, then glanced at their respective heights, her mouth twitching.
At 5'6", she only reached Chuck's shoulders. According to Chuck's theory about avoiding difficult headshots, if she stood in front of him, her head would directly block the vital parts of his chest, making shooters subconsciously avoid that area. Basically, all his vital organs would be protected, which was indeed very safe.
After a delay of more than half an hour, several officers from the tribal police department finally arrived. After learning about the situation, they grumbled but were also understanding about the heavy tactical gear.
They were the ones most aware of the risks involved.
"Are you worried?"
Jane followed Chuck to his car. Watching him drive behind the tribal police convoy, she couldn't help but ask, "Is it because it's too dangerous? I'm sorry, I didn't expect to involve you in such a dangerous situation. Now that we have a lead, you could just stay at the station and wait for us to get back."
She thought that Chuck, no matter how impressive he seemed, was ultimately just a PhD consultant—a scholar without any real tactical experience. He might have theories, but facing harsh reality made even her uneasy, let alone Chuck.
"Just keep your body camera on,"
Chuck glanced at her.
He was indeed worried, but it wasn't fear—it was concern about his troubled younger brother, Frank.
After violating military discipline and being discharged early, Frank had formed a private security team with other ex-military, specializing in high-paying but questionable work.
According to what Chuck knew, Frank had recently taken on a contract from Edward Olson.
(End of chapter)
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