The pickup drove down the wide road.
Dean began to sort through the memories in his mind.
He had finally grasped his predicament.
This world was similar to his previous one but differed in many subtle ways. It seemed more like two somewhat similar parallel worlds.
His family situation was also somewhat complex.
His father, a Los Angeles detective of Chinese and Irish descent, had died in the line of duty eight years ago while investigating a drug case. Consequently, connections with his father's side of the family had gradually faded.
Dean was only thirteen at the time.
He had always suspected there was more to his father's death. This suspicion led him to the foolish decision of getting involved with Nathan during college. It also drove him to rapidly complete his university credits, graduate early, and apply for the Los Angeles Detective Bureau's recruitment, completing the subsequent six-month training.
However, due to his mediocre police academy performance, Dean was assigned to the Narcotics Division rather than the Robbery-Homicide Division (Major Crimes Unit) before starting his job. He was then conned by Eve, the deputy head of the Narcotics Division, into an undercover assignment that effectively sent him right back to Nathan's side.
His mother, Sheila, was of Italian descent and the younger daughter of a farm owner. Using her father's—Dean's maternal grandfather's—connections, she made a living by managing crop sales for farms around Los Angeles, essentially acting as a broker.
His older brother, Beck, who had brown hair and blue eyes and looked more Irish, was twenty-five. He had become a professional storage unit treasure hunter with their uncle, traveling all over America and rarely returning home.
He also had a younger brother and a younger sister.
His younger brother, Thompson, was fifteen—six years Dean's junior—and had just started ninth grade. A bookworm with excellent grades, Thompson displayed the most prominent Chinese features among the four siblings.
His younger sister, Sinclair, who most resembled their mother, was an eleven-year-old, brown-haired girl in fifth grade. She had a quirky and mischievous personality, with a rebellious streak.
Further up the family tree on his mother's side, Dean had two maternal uncles. The older one managed the farm with Dean's maternal grandfather, while the younger one was in the storage business with Dean's older brother, Beck. Their social circles were relatively simple.
In essence, Dean came from a single-parent family. His close relatives included his mother, older brother, younger brother, younger sister, maternal grandfather, and two maternal uncles.
Thank goodness my predecessor moved out early, Dean thought. Dealing with these interpersonal relationships would give me a headache.
He wasn't adept at such things.
He licked his dry lips and accelerated.
After integrating the memories and sleeping for a full day and night, Dean was now parched and famished. He still had to eliminate the lingering threat from the robbery and urgently needed to find a restaurant to refuel.
After driving a bit further, traffic around him began to thicken.
Gas stations, motels, and restaurants started appearing along the roadside.
Dean pulled into a rest area, quickly bought some food, and then continued driving towards downtown Los Angeles.
He wasn't concerned about the threats from Eve, the deputy head of the Narcotics Division.
Nathan and the others were dead, so the foolish mistakes his predecessor had made were seemingly without repercussions.
However, upon integrating the memories, Dean discovered that besides Nathan and his crew (killed during the bank armored car robbery), Nathan's lover might also be aware of the plan.
Nathan's lover was Anna, a stunning Latina.
She was a stripper with an uninhibited personality and had secretly slept with Dean's predecessor a few times.
The intelligence about the bank's armored van had come from one of Anna's clients at the strip club. Anna had overheard it and inadvertently told Nathan, which ultimately led to the heist.
The bank's armored car was robbed, and Nathan and his crew had vanished!
If Anna wasn't a fool, she would definitely suspect that Nathan and his crew were connected to the armored car robbery!
This was a major loose end.
Politicians' money is too hot to handle.
If I want to walk freely in the daylight and get away with over three million US dollars, I have to eliminate this loose end!
But if the risk is too great, I won't hesitate to abandon the three million-plus US dollars. I'll turn around and become the rookie undercover cop who cracked the armored car heist, thereby maintaining my status as a model Los Angeles citizen.
In my past life, I had enough of living on the run, constantly at risk of being silenced by the organization.
This life, I just want to be a good person.
The closer the pickup got to downtown Los Angeles, the more congested the freeways became.
Los Angeles, with its booming economy, suffered from an incredible volume of traffic during rush hour, with vehicles backed up in long lines.
Yet, the Los Angeles freeways offered beautiful scenery.
On one side lay the vast Pacific Ocean, and on the other, steep mountain cliffs.
It was evening.
In the afterglow of the sunset, a row of palm trees swayed in the evening breeze.
From a nearby beach, the joyous laughter of children at play could be heard.
Dean rested one arm on the open window, feeling the cool breeze. With his other hand on the steering wheel, he slowly navigated the pickup through the traffic. Watching the ocean and listening to the ambient sounds, his irritation from the congestion gradually eased.
As night fell, Dean finally returned to the urban area.
He had a temporary residence there in the South District: an old apartment building, over thirty years old, inhabited mainly by first-generation immigrants and some undocumented workers. It was a crowded, run-down environment.
The apartment's only advantages were its cheap rent and the fact that he could get his deposit back and leave at any time.
He stashed the money securely.
It was still early in the evening.
Dean changed into a hooded sweatshirt, took the pickup, and went to gather the tools he might need for the night.
As a professional Sweeper, his tools of the trade weren't limited to firearms.
Dean's preferred items were nail polish and razor blades.
Nail polish could conceal fingerprints without affecting finger dexterity.
Razor blades were readily available and disposable. Even if found, it was hard to glean any useful clues from them.
Of course, Dean sometimes used a special type of glue instead of nail polish.
Fingerprint detection technology worked by identifying the oils and sweat secreted by the skin on the fingertips.
Therefore, as long as he kept his fingertips smooth and free of secretions, he didn't have to worry about leaving prints.
With all preparations complete, Dean then drove the pickup to the strip club where Anna worked.
The strip club Anna worked at was located in downtown Los Angeles.
"Downtown" might sound upscale, but this particular area was an out-and-out slum, home to numerous addicts, undocumented workers, bankrupt vagrants, and gang members.
During the day, it was relatively manageable.
But by night, not even uniformed patrol officers dared to venture there.
Chaos and freedom were the ruling themes there.
By the time Dean arrived, it was already past nine in the evening.
The club had just opened, and a long line snaked outside. Robust Mexican bouncers maintained order while small groups of addicts loitered on both sides of the street, creating a bizarrely animated scene.
Dressed in his hoodie and a mask, Dean drove the pickup into a deserted alley. After wiping down the vehicle to remove any traces, he deliberately left the door ajar with the keys inside and then walked towards the strip club.
It wouldn't even take all night for someone to 'take care' of this pickup for me—swap the plates, modify it, and erase every last trace I left...