flstandardbreds Chapter 1278 Suspect 2 Zhang Jianjun
Chapter 1278 Suspect 2 Zhang Jianjun
"Don't move! If you resist again, we will use police equipment!" Xiao Wang warned sternly, while signaling his team members to control Zhou Hao's legs. The team member on the left quickly squatted down, using his knee to press against the back of Zhou Hao's knees, forcing his legs to bend and lose their support. The four of them worked together to press Zhou Hao firmly against the wall. The cold wall against his back instantly weakened his struggles.
With a snap, the handcuffs locked Zhou Hao's wrists securely. The cold metal seeped through his thin hoodie and onto his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He stopped screaming, his head drooped, his shoulders trembled violently, and tears welled up unexpectedly, dripping down his cheeks to the ground. "I really didn't break the law... You must have made a mistake..." His voice changed from a sob to a plea, the resistance in his eyes replaced by fear. He dared not meet Xiao Wang's gaze any longer, staring only at the tips of his shoes.
Xiao Wang released his grip, gesturing for his team members to help Zhou Hao up: "Are you kidding me? You'll find out when you get to the branch office for questioning. Now, please cooperate with us and don't make things difficult for yourself." Zhou Hao didn't resist anymore, letting the team members support his arms as he staggered downstairs. As he passed the first-floor hallway, he saw a pile of black garbage bags in the corner, and his eyes suddenly flickered—those were the clothes he had just thrown away that afternoon, and there might still be traces related to the case inside.
As he stepped out of the building, the police car lights illuminated the night, the blinding glare causing Zhou Hao to instinctively squint. The officers opened the back door and pushed him inside. Zhou Hao slumped into the seat, his hands handcuffed to the armrests in front of him, his body still trembling slightly. He turned his head to look out the window, watching the familiar neighborhood recede into the distance, knowing in his heart that he couldn't escape after all.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Xiao Wang glanced back at Zhou Hao, then took out his walkie-talkie and reported to Li Ming: "Team Leader Li, Zhou Hao has been successfully apprehended. He is currently in stable condition and has not resisted. He is being taken back to the branch for interrogation." After speaking, he turned off the walkie-talkie and looked out the window again—the night was still dark, but he knew that with Zhou Hao's capture, the truth of this case would soon come to light, and Zhao Baotian's injustice would soon be redressed.
The police car slowly drove away from the Chengxi residential area, the roar of the engine particularly clear on the quiet street, speeding towards the Criminal Investigation Detachment. Zhou Hao, in the back seat, stopped talking, only resting his head against the window, staring blankly at the passing night scenery outside, tears silently sliding down his cheeks, soaking the fabric of his sleeves.
The lights in the interrogation room of the criminal investigation branch were icy cold, the white walls reflecting a blinding light that cast Zhou Hao's long shadow, swaying slightly on the floor. Zhou Hao sat in the metal interrogation chair, his hands firmly handcuffed to the armrests. The hood of his black hoodie was pulled down, revealing messy hair and a stubble-covered face. His head was slightly lowered, but his eyes held a deliberate stubbornness. He would occasionally glance at Xiao Wang behind the interrogation table out of the corner of his eye, his fingers unconsciously rubbing against his knees, leaving faint streaks of sweat.
Xiao Wang opened the file in front of him, tapped the "Zhou Hao Fingerprint Comparison Report" lightly with his fingertips, and said in a calm but penetrating voice: "Zhou Hao, name, age, occupation, and where you were and what you did on the night Zhao Baotian was murdered, do I need to repeat that again?"
Zhou Hao's Adam's apple bobbed violently. He tilted his head to one side, avoiding Xiao Wang's gaze, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible: "My name is Zhou Hao, 35 years old, I don't have a stable job. That night I was watching TV at home, I didn't go out. Zhao Baotian's matter has nothing to do with me, you've arrested the wrong person..." His shoulders trembled slightly, and when he said "it has nothing to do with me," his voice noticeably weakened. His eyes unconsciously glanced at the corner of the interrogation room, as if he were avoiding something—he knew that since the police dared to arrest him, they must have some clues, but he still wanted to take a gamble, to gamble that the police didn't have solid evidence.
"Watching TV at home?" Xiao Wang picked up a photo and pushed it in front of Zhou Hao. The photo showed a close-up of a fingerprint on a fire hydrant in the B2 parking lot of the Oriental Building, with the comparison results attached: "The fingerprint matches Zhou Hao's right index finger 100%." "This fingerprint was extracted near where Zhao Baotian's body was found. After comparison by the technical department, it was confirmed to be yours. You said you've never been to the parking lot, how do you explain this fingerprint?"
Zhou Hao's body stiffened abruptly, as if all his strength had been drained away. His carefully maintained composure crumbled instantly. He stared at the fingerprints in the photo, his lips trembling, unable to utter a word for a long time. His face slowly turned from pale to ashen, large beads of sweat sliding down his forehead and dripping onto the interrogation record, spreading into a small patch. "I... I went to the Oriental Building to see a friend before, and I might have accidentally touched a fire hydrant, leaving my fingerprints. This doesn't prove I killed anyone!" He suddenly raised his voice, as if trying to bolster his courage, but his clenched hands betrayed his nervousness; his knuckles turned white from the pressure, and even his breathing became rapid.
"Looking for a friend? Which friend? What's their name? Which floor do they live on?" Xiao Wang pressed, his tone carrying an unquestionable authority. "We checked the registration information for all residents and companies in the Oriental Building, and there's no one you know; the surveillance footage also shows that you entered the parking lot at 9:15 PM on the night of the incident and left at 9:50 PM, without contacting anyone during that time, and you stayed near the location where the body was found—is your so-called 'looking for a friend' the murdered Zhao Baotian?"
Zhou Hao suddenly burst into tears. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders trembling violently, and suppressed sobs escaped from between his fingers: "No! I just went to the parking lot to find a place to smoke, I didn't ask anyone for help! The surveillance footage must be wrong, don't frame me!" His cries were filled with despair, but he dared not look up at Xiao Wang, as if denying it would overturn the evidence. But he knew in his heart that the surveillance footage was irrefutable evidence, and his lies could no longer stand.
Instead of pressing for answers, Xiao Wang produced a second piece of evidence—a fiber analysis report for a black hoodie: "The black fibers extracted from the pressure marks on Zhao Baotian's neck were found to be completely identical in composition to the hoodie you were wearing when you were arrested; furthermore, we found a hoodie with traces of blood in a black garbage bag in the corner of your rented room, and the blood was identified as Zhao Baotian's. You say you didn't kill him, so how did his blood and the fibers from your clothes end up together?"
These words were like a sharp knife, instantly piercing Zhou Hao's last pretense. His crying suddenly stopped, he lowered his hands from his face, his eyes were bloodshot and filled with fear and regret. "I was wrong... I shouldn't have helped Zhang Jianjun... He forced me..." His voice was broken, his body shaking violently with agitation, the handcuffs clanging against the armrests, the sound particularly jarring in the silent interrogation room.