lcionline Chapter 1078 Suspect Zhao Liqiang
Chapter 1078 Suspect Zhao Liqiang
When Xiao Wang presented these clues to Zhou Min, she suddenly collapsed to the ground, tears and snot streaming down her face onto the divorce papers: "I knew it was Zhao Liqiang!" She pulled a photo from a drawer—a picture of Li Jiansheng and Zhao Liqiang at a dinner table, their arms around each other, the silver-gray van in the background particularly conspicuous. "He said Zhao Liqiang was his savior, that he could handle everything for him, but..."
When the visit ended, the rain still hadn't stopped. Xiao Wang stood downstairs at Li Jiansheng's house, watching the little girl play the dusty piano on the balcony. The melody of "Für Elise" drifted down with the sound of rain, each note like Li Jiansheng's unspoken words—the lies forced out by loan sharks, the life emptied by gambling, the spine crushed by steel bars—all ultimately buried in the red mud of the landfill along with that vanished silver-gray van.
"Investigate the relationship between Zhao Liqiang and the deputy director of Huihuang Construction," Xiao Wang ordered into the walkie-talkie, the rain stinging his face. "And the whereabouts of that batch of substandard steel bars must be found out." He knew that Li Jiansheng's network of relationships was like a blood-stained web, each knot hiding a secret, and Zhao Liqiang was the spider standing at the center of the web.
Back at the team, Xiao Zhang was comparing the figures in the dashcam footage. "Team Leader Wang, look at this," he pointed to the corner of the screen, "the lame guy who pushed the person has some red mud on his left trouser leg, the composition of which is exactly the same as the garbage collection station's." Xiao Wang's gaze fell on Li Jiansheng's hand clutching the test report, and he suddenly realized what was hidden in that black leather notebook—perhaps not the secret of the project funds, but evidence that could send Zhao Liqiang to prison.
As night deepened, the interrogation room lights illuminated the photos on the whiteboard. Li Jiansheng's eyes gleamed in the light, as if recounting days consumed by loan sharks, gambling, and conspiracies. Xiao Wang rubbed his aching shoulders, knowing that the investigation had only just begun, and the truth lay hidden in those seemingly unrelated clues, waiting to be pieced together bit by bit.
The rain was still falling when Xiao Wang pinned Zhao Liqiang's photo to the right side of the whiteboard. The man in the photo was missing half of his right ear, a scar from when he was a gangster, slashed open with a beer bottle. This scar had flashed three times in the casino's surveillance footage, each time accompanying Li Jiansheng's clenched fist. "Check his movements before and after the incident," Xiao Wang said, slamming Zhao Liqiang and Li Jiansheng's call logs on the table. The edge of the last 47-minute call was dented from being poked by his finger. "Especially that abandoned factory; he definitely went there."
On technician Xiao Zhang's computer screen, Zhao Liqiang's ID card usage records looked like beads on a broken string. "Captain Wang, look," he zoomed in on the red dot on the map, "On the day Li Jiansheng disappeared, Zhao Liqiang's ID card was registered at the 'Hongyun Hotel' in the suburbs. He checked in at 3 PM and checked out at 7 AM the next morning, which perfectly covers the time of death estimated by the forensic doctor." The hotel's surveillance footage glowed green. Zhao Liqiang was wearing a baseball cap, the brim pulled low, his left hand always in the pocket of his black hoodie, and there was a slight jerk in his left knee when he walked—a feature that perfectly matched the limping figure who pushed Li Jiansheng off the building.
On the way to Hongyun Hotel, police cars spewed water across the puddle-filled road, splashing water onto the road signs. The landlady, a plump woman, was wiping the bar counter with a rag. When she saw Zhao Liqiang's photo, the rag fell to the ground with a "thud": "This guy, when he checked in, he was carrying a heavy black bag, and he told me not to tell anyone he was here." She pointed to room 302, "When he checked out, there was something reddish on the corner of the sheet. I thought it was ketchup, so I threw it in the washing machine. Now that I think about it..."
In the cracks of the floor in room 302, a technician used an ultraviolet lamp to illuminate a pale red fluorescence. When a cotton swab was used for sampling, the fibers shimmered faintly under the light—a composition perfectly matching the cotton-polyester blend of Li Jiansheng's work clothes. Hidden in the dust under the bed was a size 42 rubber shoe print; the serrated wear matched the description in the identification report of the blurry shoe print outside the warehouse wall. "He disposed of a body here," Xiao Wang said, running his fingers along the scratch marks on the wall, about 0.3 centimeters deep, as if dug out with fingernails. "Li Jiansheng might have resisted here."
The silver-gray minivan registered under Zhao Liqiang's name was finally found in the weeds behind the scrap yard. The floor mats on the back seat had been repeatedly wiped with disinfectant, but a few dark blue fibers remained in the crevices, which, after testing, belonged to Li Jiansheng's work clothes. More importantly, in the glove compartment, there was a crushed mineral water bottle. The saliva DNA on the bottle opening matched Zhao Liqiang's perfectly, and the fingerprints on the bottle body were stained with some red mud—the composition of which was exactly the same as the red mud from the garbage collection station.
"Check his cell tower location." Xiao Wang's voice carried a barely perceptible excitement. Xiao Zhang's fingers trembled as he typed: "Got it! At 10:17 PM on the night Li Jiansheng disappeared, Zhao Liqiang's cell phone signal appeared near the abandoned factory, lasting until 1:03 AM, then moved towards the garbage dump, disappearing at 3:17 AM—it matches the time Lao Li saw it perfectly!"
Zhao Liqiang's mother lived in a tenement building in the old city, the hallway filled with the mixed smells of coal stoves and toilets. When the old lady opened the door, she was still clutching a faded red cloth bag, inside were Zhao Liqiang's childhood award certificates. "He came back last Wednesday," she said, her fingers tracing the gold-embossed words "Three Good Student," "He brought a roast duck, said he was going to do business in another city, and gave me five thousand yuan, all in new bills." She suddenly wiped away tears, "But he had a bruise under his right eye, said he bumped into something, but I know, he must have been in a fight again."
The bruise was faintly visible in the hotel's surveillance footage, though it was mostly obscured by the brim of a hat. Xiao Wang asked his team to retrieve Zhao Liqiang's medical records, and sure enough, they found a diagnosis of "right eyelid contusion" in the community hospital's emergency room log. The consultation date was the morning of the day after Li Jiansheng's disappearance, and the doctor noted "caused by external impact."
Zhao Liqiang's mistress lived in a rented apartment in the development zone. When she opened the door, her hair was disheveled, and the collar of her pajamas was askew, revealing a hickey on her collarbone. "He's been acting strange lately," she said, popping sunflower seeds into her mouth and spitting the shells into the ashtray on the coffee table. "He used to come over every few days, but he's only come once in the last two weeks, and he brought a black suitcase, acting all mysterious." She pointed to the top shelf of the wardrobe. "The suitcase is hidden there. Yesterday I wanted to see it, and he got angry with me and almost hit me."
The moment Xiao Wang opened the black box, he smelled formaldehyde. There was no body inside, only a stack of documents wrapped in a plastic bag, with a photocopy of Li Jiansheng's black leather notebook on top.