Chuck, "This person is highly suspicious. We conducted an investigation around the crime scene and found no other clues. Moreover, since so many people in New York carry guitar cases and it usually attracts no attention, nobody remembers anything."

"Since the gunman's technique is very professional, this doesn't seem like a spontaneous crime. Therefore, we hope to utilize your resources to investigate."

Jimmy furrowed his brow; this would be hard to track down. To search for someone in the FBI database, you need at least some criteria, and the information provided by the NYPD lacked any reference value. He thought for a moment, shook his head, and said, "We can't search the criminal database with this; the conditions are too vague. We would need at least some concrete details to access the database, and we don't even know if this person is male or female."

From the surveillance cameras, due to the thick clothing, the physical build was obscured, and the height data was extrapolated from the objects nearby on the road. The surveillance showed hair flapping behind the hat, but in New York, long hair can't be used to distinguish gender, as there are too many artistic men with various hairstyles.

Jimmy continued to inquire, "Is your on-site investigation still ongoing?"

Chuck nodded, "We've already conducted two rounds of investigation on the first case, and patrol officers inquired with local residents about yesterday's case, investigating any possible surveillance in nearby residential and commercial areas. So far, no new findings."

Jimmy, "What about the previous routes of this taxi?"

Chuck, "We've investigated that, too. No trace of the person getting on or off was found. It's difficult to determine where the gunman got on."

Jimmy shook his head, "I don't have much of an idea either. If we want to access the data, the current conditions are not enough; we need at least some other clue to proceed."

Jimmy closed the file and handed it back to Nia, looking at Chuck, "Chris has been away due to some issues recently. I can't help you much for now. If you find any new clues, let me know, and I'll investigate if there's any relevant person in the information."

Chuck nodded, stood up, shook hands with Jimmy, and left with Nia.

Jimmy returned to his computer. Although he told Chuck that they couldn't search without clues, he still wanted to try. The suspect's feature is having no distinct features, 175-180cm in height, which is the average height, and there are too many people in that range in the criminal database.

His first query was about the guitar; the suspect was carrying a guitar case. If he was a professional assassin, then that case would likely not contain a guitar but a weapon. However, since he chose a guitar case as a disguise, it indicates he is very familiar with guitars. Otherwise, a travel bag or a fishing rod case would also serve as good disguises.

If there indeed was a guitar inside, then it further signifies that the person is well-acquainted with guitars, and it doesn't rule out that his profession could be a musician or a singer, such as those in underground bars who might occasionally moonlight as assassins. After all, this is New York, where anything is possible.

After several searches, Jimmy found nothing, which wasn't surprisingly. Although the FBI's database is comprehensive, the details on criminals are often scant, and relying merely on height and guitars as clues, it was impossible to pinpoint anyone. There were quite a few from the entertainment industry in the results, but the scope was too broad to be of any reference value.

Checking the time, Jimmy packed up, turned off his computer, and prepared to go home. He drove away from Federal Square and casually redialed Roland's number, receiving the same outcome of unreachability. It seemed Roland had truly returned to his own world and had not come back. Ever since checking the Crystal Ball last time, Jimmy had dialed his number almost daily, hoping it would connect. Items from Roland's world needed his guidance on their proper usage; Jimmy had grown overly cautious, concerned that misuse of such paranormal-leaning items could result in severe consequences.

(The low-grade fever is almost gone, but I'm nearly spent. It took two days to work out this chapter; I'm sorry. I truly have no drafts stored, nor can I write much more now. Allow me some more rest.

Despite three days of antigen tests showing negative, I don't know what's going on, and hope it's not Brucellosis but just the flu.

Also, about the scrapped draft, which is part of the narrative after Red Flames Battlefield, if you're interested, I might post a side story. However, that part of the storyline had been deleted, so not everyone has seen it, and I'm not sure if posting this side story would mess things up again.

If you're interested, leave a comment here; it's about 6000 words.)

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