flstandardbreds Chapter 1081 The Corpse in the Gravel Pit
Chapter 1081 The Corpse in the Gravel Pit
Technicians immediately used a laser rangefinder to calibrate the measurement. The length of the drag mark from start to finish was 3.5 meters, exactly matching Zhao Liqiang's account of the dragging distance. Xiao Wang noticed that Zhao Liqiang was unconsciously rubbing his left wrist—there were the teeth marks left by Li Jiansheng, which, although healed, were still faintly visible in the sunlight.
"Was he still moving?" Xiao Wang pressed, pointing to the bulging part of the plastic bag in the photo. Zhao Liqiang suddenly trembled violently, the chains clanging against the ground: "When we were almost at the warehouse door, his hand suddenly hooked onto my trouser leg." He bent over, gesturing a tearing motion, the fabric at his lower back stretched taut, revealing a shallow scar. "I panicked and kicked the back of his hand; that's probably when my heel wore out." A blurry shoe print was indeed found in the dirt at the warehouse door, the wear pattern at the heel perfectly matching Zhao Liqiang's confession.
Entering warehouse number 17 in area B, the light suddenly dimmed, with only countless dust particles floating in the beams of light filtering through the skylight. Zhao Liqiang's gaze fell on the iron rack in the corner, where half a strand of dark blue fiber still hung—the cotton-polyester blend of Li Jiansheng's work clothes. "I threw him next to the iron rack," his voice trembled, "the plastic bag was torn by the iron hook, exposing his right hand." Xiao Wang flipped through the on-site investigation record, and the description "fabric snag marks on the hooks on the third layer of the iron rack" was clearly visible, perfectly matching Zhao Liqiang's account.
"How did you clean up the scene?" Xiao Wang held up the bloodstained claw hammer, the rust on the hammerhead gleaming faintly in the beam of light. Zhao Liqiang's gaze was fixed on the hammer, his breathing becoming rapid: "I was afraid of leaving fingerprints, so I wiped the hammer and the ground with a rag, and even kicked his watch into the corner." He pointed to the material storage area in the southwest corner of the warehouse, and the technician immediately went over to clean it up. Sure enough, they found a broken watch strap under a cardboard box, the engraving "Li Jiansheng" on the inside of the clasp still clearly visible.
As Zhao Liqiang reached the cement platform in the center of the warehouse, he suddenly stopped. There was a dark stain on the ground there, which, after testing, turned out to be a mixture of AB type blood and soil—Li Jiansheng's blood type. "I took a break here," he said, crouching down and tracing the edge of the stain with his finger. "His head was resting here, the plastic bag didn't cover his face, his eyes were open, staring straight at the skylight." The forensic report's description of "completely cloudy corneas" was a typical finding 14 days after death.
Xiao Wang asked him to describe the force exerted during the dragging. Zhao Liqiang's angle of bending over and the amplitude of his arm swing perfectly matched the mechanical analysis results of the ground scratches. When asked why he chose this warehouse, Zhao Liqiang's voice suddenly lowered: "I used to illegally dump construction waste here. I know the surveillance cameras are broken, and the compressor in sorting area number three starts at five o'clock every morning, which can cover up the dragging sound." This explained the "abnormal sound" heard by the person who reported the incident, Lao Li, and perfectly matched the timeline.
When they pointed to the warehouse entrance, Zhao Liqiang suddenly collapsed to the ground, his chains tangled in a mess. "I really didn't mean to kill him," he ripped off his mask, the scar on his right ear glowing red in the sunlight, "If he hadn't reported me, hadn't bitten me..." His words were cut short by a sob. Looking at his contorted face, Xiao Wang suddenly remembered the dents on the hotel bed leg—the DNA from the skin fragments there matched the bloodstains on Zhao Liqiang's left arm, belonging to the same person. All the fragments finally pieced together the complete truth at that moment.
As Zhao Liqiang was being escorted away, the landfill's compressor suddenly started, its roar echoing through the sky. Xiao Wang glanced back at the chalk circle in the warehouse; morning light streamed through the skylight, illuminating it like an invisible stamp on that blood-stained past. The sound of Zhao Liqiang's chains faded into the distance, but a strand of dark blue fiber in the corner of the warehouse wall still trembled slightly in the wind, as if telling the story of the final struggle of a life devoured by loan sharks and conspiracy.
Less than five days after the Zhao Liqiang case was closed, the Criminal Investigation Detachment received another report.
The conveyor belt at the sand and gravel plant was still clanging and clattering, as grayish-brown sand and gravel poured down from above, piling up into small mountains in the hoppers. As Li Ming walked across the gravel, the soles of his shoes ached painfully, and grains of sand clinging to the cuffs of his police uniform fell off with each step. The elderly worker who had reported the incident squatted beside the hopper, his shovel planted at an angle in the sand and gravel pile, the metal tip reflecting the blinding midday sun.
“Around 10:30,” the old worker’s voice trembled, his calloused fingers pointing to the edge of the hopper. “I heard the conveyor belt jam. I parted the sand and gravel and saw that thing wrapped in a waterproof cloth, with half an arm sticking out. Its skin was as white as soaked tofu.” He suddenly covered his mouth, his stomach churning. “I’ve been doing this for thirty years and I’ve never seen anything like it. The sand and gravel in the hopper were all stained red. I still feel scared when I think about it.”
Xiao Yang had already put on double gloves and was using tweezers to remove the sand particles stuck to the waterproof tarpaulin. The blue canvas was worn with many holes by the sand and gravel, revealing dark red stains underneath, which gleamed greasyly in the sunlight. "The waterproof tarpaulin is made of thickened nylon, and there are obvious tear marks on the edges," he reported into the walkie-talkie, his voice somewhat muffled through the gas mask, "The preliminary assessment is that the body had been cut up, and the severed limbs are uneven, as if they were forcibly separated with a blunt instrument."
Xiao Sun squatted below the hopper, the green line of the laser rangefinder sweeping a fan-shaped trajectory across the ground. "The limb was 1.2 meters from the end of the conveyor belt, with irregular bloodstains in the surrounding sand and gravel, extending about 3.7 meters." He used a ruler to mark a blurry shoe print, "A size 44 hiking boot print, the forefoot is severely worn, and the tread is embedded with reddish-brown clay, consistent with the composition of the soil at the edge of the material yard."
Xiao Wang helped the old worker to the dispatch room, where a layer of oil floated on the tea in the enamel mug. "Who came to the material yard this morning?" His pen tip hovered over the notebook, the edges of the pages curled in the wind. The old worker's hand holding the cup was still trembling: "Around seven o'clock, a red truck came to unload the materials. The driver was wearing a sun hat and had a very loud voice, I think his name was 'Qiangzi.' After unloading, he didn't leave; he stayed in the break room for almost two hours, during which time he went to the hopper once."
"Did he do anything unusual?" Xiao Wang pressed, his gaze falling on the attendance sheet on the dispatch room wall. A red checkmark was placed next to "Qiangzi's" name, marked "temporary loader." The old worker clicked his tongue as he recalled, "He was wearing a black work uniform, the cuffs were worn out, revealing the wrist guards underneath. When he went to the hopper, he was carrying a blue canvas bag, saying it was for tools. When he came back, the bag was quite deflated, and his hands were covered in a black, sticky stuff. I thought it was machine oil."
Just then, Xiao Yang's walkie-talkie crackled to life: "Xiao Wang, bring the person who reported this over to identify it."