Karl was still recovering from his gunshot wound and insisted on returning to the police station.
Franklin finally gave up and knew that he could not possibly stop him.
On the third day, despite the doctor's objection, Karl wrapped a few more straps around his abdomen by himself, endured the pain, and discharged himself from the hospital. Then he came to the Second Precinct, where he was to take charge of the search himself.
However, for the whole day, he went through the helicopter search records, the marine police vessel log, and all the road surveillance, and indeed, he still could not find Joyce.
It was like she had evaporated.
Incredible.
He knew that the golden rescue hours had long passed.
If not for his orders, the rescue team would have given up.
Now they were just looking for a needle in a haystack, looking aimlessly and wasting human and financial resources.
Everyone advised him that there could be no more miracles and urged him to give up.
However, he did not want to give up.
He was not going to give up either.
Everything did not make sense. If Joyce was really killed, it was impossible that they could not find the body. The truth was, they could not even find a shoe or a piece of clothing of her.
He was convinced that she was alive. She must still be alive.
Something must have happened, something he didn't know about.
In the next few days, he personally sent more people to search for her, still in vain.
The waves still went on and on in the clean sea like they would never stop.
But still, not a single trace of her could be found.
At the beginning it was full of faith in his heart, then the faith was worn out bit by bit, and in the end, the panic of despair eroded to all limbs.
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