"Ma'am, do you live nearby?"
"Yes, I live in the Antoine Community on the east side, just two streets away."
Luke had so impression of this na, "What's your son's na?"
"Antoine Powell."
"His na is the sa as the community's na."
"Yes, we lived in this community when he was born. It's the first and only house I bought, and it has a special aning for us."
Sasha Powell's voice was sowhat anxious and choked, "This morning, when I was cooking, I ran out of olive oil. My son went out to buy so, but he hasn't co back since.
At first, I thought he was just playing around, but then I saw on the news that there was a shooting here, so I rushed over."
"Are you sure he ca to this supermarket?"
"Yes, we usually co to this supermarket for our shopping."
"How old is your son?"
"He's ten years old this year."
"How long has he been out of contact, and when exactly did he leave ho?"
"Around seven-thirty in the morning.
This supermarket opens the earliest in the area; they start around seven, so their business is good, and prices are relatively cheap. They often have promotions, and neighbors frequently co here to shop."
Luke noted it down, seven-thirty opening ti, which is indeed uncommon in Los Angeles, especially in a Black community.
"Did your son carry a phone?"
"No, I didn't want him to have a phone so early...
Oh God, I regret it now, I should have gotten him a phone."
"Do you have his photo?"
"Yes, I have his photo." Sasha Powell hurriedly took out her phone to find the photo.
Luke looked at the photo on the phone and took a picture of it, "Ma'am, give your contact information. We'll inform you imdiately when we have news about your son."
Sasha Powell handed a business card to Luke, "I'm not going anywhere, I'm waiting right here."
Luke spoke to a nearby female officer, "Take this lady to rest a bit over there."
"Yes, sir."
Luke sent the boy's photo into the chat group.
Jackson stared intently at the photo and sighed, "He might be one of the victims... just a child.
I must personally catch that bastard."
Luke also felt it was possible, "Jackson, go gather and verify all the victims' information, I need to know their details."
"Raymond Jeanne, you go talk to the nearby residents and look for witnesses."
"The rest, follow into the cri scene."
"Yes, sir."
Actually, the supermarket entrance was already the murder scene, the shooter shot three people right at the entrance. There were still bloodstains at the entrance, but the victims were no longer visible.
They were either sent to the hospital for treatnt or had beco a corpse carried away.
Luke searched around the supermarket entrance and saw a car cordoned off by police lines. He asked a nearby officer, "Is that the shooter's car?"
The officer, although he had watched the whole live broadcast, hadn't seen the car's full appearance, only knowing it was a Honda. He said, "Based on the car brand and location, it's very likely the shooter's car."
Luke went to check around the Honda, searched it briefly, but found no docunts or valuable clues, "Port, check this car's details and tell later."
"Yes, sir."
Luke followed the car's direction towards the supermarket, almost repeating the shooter's murder path.
The officer added, "The killer was ruthless, fired several shots at people at the supermarket entrance, then directly entered the supermarket."
Luke nodded and entered the supermarket.
He wasn't unfamiliar with this supermarket, having seen it in live broadcasts and on the news before. However, the reality and shock were much greater. Shelves knocked over, goods scattered everywhere, accompanied by a strong sll of blood and bodies lying in pools of blood.
The people on the scene were accustod to killings and bodies, but such large-scale public slaughter was still very shocking.
A thought ca to Luke's mind, could the shooter be a patient who escaped from a psychiatric hospital, or perhaps soone with a serious ntal illness history? Normal people can't do such a thing.
Not to ntion killing people; even when it cos to common chickens and dogs, ordinary people find it hard to get their hands dirty.
Luke looked at the cara on the ceiling damaged by gunfire. Whether this person has a ntal illness or not, their intelligence should be intact.
In the distance, the deputy team leader's voice sounded, "Luke, I found sothing over here."
Luke looked toward the voice. The deputy was standing next to a row of tal lockers. The storage lockers above were small, while the bottom row was larger, one of which was open, filled with a bunch of equipnt.
The deputy squatted down, taking items out one by one: two rifles, a handgun, a bulletproof vest, gloves, a helt, a skull mask, a black coat, and a pair of black pants, cramd tightly into the locker.
The deputy said, "These should be the shooter's equipnt. He probably discarded the gear and escaped disguised as a regular custor."
Luke said, "The shooter didn't drive the previous car, so there might be another ans of transportation."
With his left hand on his chest and the right on his chin, the deputy said, "I think it's necessary to verify the identity of each person who fled the supermarket."
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