The crackdown on organized crime began with the arrest of the mother-in-law.

Chapter 1102 Zhao Qiang confesses to the murder

"When Zhang Long grabbed the wrench, Chen Miao tripped and fell into the cornfield," Zhao Qiang's voice trembled with tears as he gestured with his hands in the air. "We just wanted to hold him down, but he struggled too much, so Zhang Long hit his leg with a baseball bat. He clutched his knee and fell down, and suddenly he stopped breathing..."

Xiao Zhou pulled up photos of drag marks by the pond: "What happened after he stopped breathing? You dragged him into the pond to stage the scene?" Zhao Qiang's shoulders slumped, and the iron chain dragged on the ground with a harsh sound: "It was Zhang Long's suggestion. He said that drowning deaths wouldn't show any external injuries. After we threw him into the pond, we drove his taxi to the brick kiln and hid it. Zhang Long also took the voice recorder, saying he would find an opportunity to destroy it."

"Why did you help Zhang Long collect his debts?" Xiao Zhou pressed, his gaze falling on the "service fees" section of the bank statement. Zhao Qiang's voice was low, almost a whisper: "I owe Zhang Long 300,000 yuan in gambling debts. He said he'd offset my debt by helping him get back 150,000 yuan from Chen Miao." He suddenly covered his face. "I only wanted Chen Miao to hand over the recording pen; I never expected it to lead to someone's death... Zhang Long said he was experienced and could handle these kinds of things cleanly, and I was foolish enough to believe him."

The interrogation continued until 3 a.m., and the arrest of Zhang Long also made progress. When the special police found him in the basement of his casino, he was holding a recording pen with pliers, preparing to throw it into a vat of sulfuric acid. "This thing recorded our threats against Chen Miao," Zhang Long said, still clutching the evidence bag tightly as he was pinned to the ground. "Zhao Qiang said keeping it would be a disaster and told me to get rid of it quickly." The contents of the recording corroborated Zhao Qiang's confession. In the recording at 10:47 p.m., Chen Miao's shouts mixed with the sounds of fighting: "I'd rather die than hand it over! I already have backups of the evidence of your tax evasion!"

Zhang Long's interrogation record closely matched Zhao Qiang's confession. "We only intended to break one of his legs," his scar distorted under the light, "but he was stubborn and even bit my arm, so I got angry and hit him on the head with a baseball bat." Forensic examination showed that the blunt force trauma to Chen Miao's head matched Zhang Long's murder weapon perfectly, while the diatoms in his lungs proved that he was thrown into the pond alive.

“He even groaned when we threw him into the water,” Zhang Long said, his voice still trembling with fear. “Zhao Qiang and I were so scared that we drove away as fast as we could. We only realized we had committed a terrible crime when we heard the body had surfaced the next day.” He confessed that Chen Miao’s taxi was hidden in an abandoned warehouse at the brick kiln, and there were still traces of blood from when they dragged him under the floor mats on the back seat.

By the time Xiao Zhou put the two interrogation records together, the sky outside the window was already turning white. Zhao Qiang and Zhang Long's testimonies were completely consistent on key details: On the evening of July 12, the two conspired to intercept Chen Miao, forcing him to hand over a recording pen and repay the usurious loan. During the struggle, Zhang Long accidentally hit Chen Miao on the head with a baseball bat, causing him to lose consciousness. Out of fear, the two dragged him into the pond to fake drowning.

On the blackboard in the information center, the triangular relationship diagram was finally complete. Xiao Zhou crossed out Zhao Qiang and Zhang Long's names with a red pen. Chen Miao's photo, under the light, showed her still gentle smile. The recording pen that was almost destroyed became the most crucial evidence, containing not only threatening words but also a recording of Zhao Qiang admitting to tax evasion and evidence of Zhang Long's loan sharking crimes.

"Dismissed," Xiao Zhou said, closing the file. Morning light streamed through the window, illuminating the words "Case Solved." "Notify Xiao Wang that the taxi at the brick kiln can be seized. Have the technical team search it thoroughly, leaving no detail overlooked." The footsteps in the corridor gradually faded away, and the fluorescent lights in the information center finally went silent, as if drawing a period to this investigation that had lasted for half a month.

Immediately after Zhao Qiang confessed to his involvement with Chen Miao and Zhang Long, the police arrested Zhang Long.

As the SWAT officers kicked open the iron door to the casino's basement, the rust scraped against the concrete floor with a screeching sound. Zhang Long was squatting in front of the sulfuric acid vat, a recording pen held in pliers hovering above the bubbling liquid, the words "Tongda Taxi Company" on the pen blurred by fingerprints. "Police! Don't move!" The beam of a powerful flashlight blinded him, and the moment his wrists were handcuffed behind his back, the recording pen fell into the vat with a thud, blue electricity exploding in the liquid.

The incandescent lights in the interrogation room were a hundred times more glaring than the neon lights in the casino, making the scar on Zhang Long's right cheek look like a writhing earthworm in the light. "Zhao Qiang has confessed everything," Xiao Zhou pushed two transcripts in front of him, the pen strokes overlapping on keywords like "baseball bat" and "pond," "There's no point in you resisting any longer." Zhang Long's Adam's apple bobbed, the chains dragging on the floor made a rustling sound, and he suddenly sneered: "That kid's just like that, when something happens, he's the first one to push others out."

His confession began at the gas station at 10 p.m. on July 12: "Zhao Qiang said that Chen Miao had a recording pen in his car, which recorded evidence of his tax evasion, and asked me to help him get it back." Zhang Long's fingernails scratched shallow grooves on the table. "We followed him in two cars. His black sedan blocked the way from behind, and I intercepted him on the front on a motorcycle. We originally planned to force Chen Miao into the cornfield and that would be the end of it."

These words perfectly matched Zhao Qiang's confession, even down to the detail that "Chen Miao suddenly turned the steering wheel and crashed into the motorcycle." "When he pulled out a wrench from the passenger seat, I knew this kid was going to kill himself," Zhang Long suddenly raised his voice, his handcuffs slamming against the edge of the table. "That wrench weighed about half a pound; if it hit my arm, it would definitely break. That's why I told Zhao Qiang not to stop driving and forced him to the edge of the pond."

The "left knee contusion" in the forensic report now had an answer. "Chen Miao's legs went weak when he got out of the car," Zhang Long gestured the posture at the time, "I thought he was faking it, so I poked his knee with a baseball bat, but who knew he would grab a rock and hit me on the head." He pointed to the bruise on his forehead, "This injury was inflicted by him. Zhao Qiang was trying to break up the fight and was kicked by him, which led to the subsequent fight."

Xiao Zhou pulled up a map showing the distribution of bloodstains by the pond, which perfectly matched Zhang Long's description of the fight. "Why didn't you take him to the hospital?" His pen hovered over the words "positive for diatoms in the lungs." "The forensic doctor said he was still breathing when he was thrown into the water." Zhang Long's shoulders suddenly slumped, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly: "I panicked at the time. Zhao Qiang said his cousin was a forensic doctor, and that drowning deaths don't show external injuries, so I believed his nonsense."

Regarding the formation of the drag marks, Zhang Long's account was more specific than Zhao Qiang's: "Chen Miao is 173 cm tall, and Zhao Qiang and I together weigh over 300 kg. When we dragged him, our feet slipped in the mud, which is why we left two ruts." He even remembered the source of the gasoline smell on the grass: "Zhao Qiang's car was leaking oil, dripping from the trunk. I didn't pay attention at the time, but I never expected it to become your evidence."