Reborn: The Rookie Detective Chapter 108 108: 108-Disabled veteran

"Sorry, wrong room." The short man slamd the door and ran.

"Stop, hey, don't run!"

Realizing what was happening, Jack chased after him, pinning the man against the elevator door. Angela, supporting her lower back, slowly approached.

"Hands behind your back, fingers interlaced!" Jack began a thorough search, from head to toe. The man seed resigned, offering no resistance.

"Found a knife, huh?" Jack pulled a military knife from the man's waist and handed it to Angela. He noticed sothing odd about the man's right leg, pulling up his trouser leg to see it was a prosthetic.

He casually rolled up the man's sleeve, revealing a tattoo of the Earth, a bald eagle, and an anchor.

"Marine Corps? You're a veteran. Did you lose your leg on the battlefield?"

"Yes, officer, it was blown up by an IED," the short man answered honestly.

Jack eased up a bit, of course, because he was disabled, and he was quite cooperative.

Jack's delicious lunch was ruined, and Angela only had ti to grab a dessert from across the street before taking the suspect back to the police station.

"What charges will I face?" The disabled Marine was led out of the car, trying to get so information.

"First, an arrest, then it's up to the prosecutor." Angela followed slowly behind, happily eating her cherry cheese. Being pregnant, she needed to replenish her energy.

"So, why did you police co to my hotel room?"

The disabled Marine wanted to ask more questions, but bumped into Tim, who was walking out.

"Mickey?" Tim looked at him in surprise.

"Sergeant?" The disabled Marine also recognized Tim.

"You know him?" Angela's eyes widened in surprise, and Jack also looked at Tim curiously.

"Back in Afghanistan, I was his squad leader."

Tim's gaze was complex. Jack noticed that Mickey's face also held a mixture of sha, resentnt, and even a hint of bitterness. There seed to be a story behind it all.

"What exactly happened?" Tim asked, puzzled, as he watched his forr comrade being led to have his fingerprints taken by Jack.

"I had a fiancée in San Diego and found a job through the Disabled Veterans Association." Mickey said, avoiding Tim's probing gaze, his eyes lowered, his face showing more numbness than pain.

"What can I say? I've co to terms with it."

Jack led Mickey into the detention room. The disabled veteran continued to press, "Surely I know why the police arrested ?"

"He can't say," Tim answered for Jack.

"Really? But you can, right?" Mickey pointed to the armband on Tim's uniform.

Tim shook his head, his tone softening. "I can't either. It involves the victim's privacy."

"The victim?" Mickey tensed up imdiately.

"Is that Joe? What happened to him? Is he alright?"

Tim shook his head. "I've already said too much."

Tears welled up in Mickey's eyes, and his voice choked up. "Is he dead? Please!"

Tim sighed, not answering directly. "A detective will be asking you questions soon." He turned and walked away.

"Your relationship seems a bit complicated? Would you like to talk about it?" Jack had no recollection of this part of the story and was very curious about the relationship between the two.

"His missing leg has sothing to do with ." Tim reminisced.

"He was put in solitary confinent for committing a cri, and I broke the rules by releasing him early. As a result, he was blown up on patrol that day."

"But you ant well." Jack didn't understand his logic; what was there to feel guilty about?

"Rules are important. I shouldn't have broken the rules."

Well, that was very Tim's answer. Jack didn't understand the feeling of soone being close to him hurt even if indirectly by him, so he lacked empathy for Tim's inexplicable sense of guilt.

"Angela will probably start the interrogation in about 20 minutes. I'm going to organize the materials. See you then."

....

"You don't really think I killed him, do you?" Mickey was a little angry.

"We don't know anything, that's why we're asking you." Angela, having replenished her sugar, was particularly calm.

"Let put it this way, Joe died from a fractured cervical spine. His cervical spine suffered acute compression injury. The person who did this was a veteran." Jack looked at Mickey, observing his facial expression as he spoke.

"It wasn't ." Mickey's expression was sorrowful, and tears welled up in his eyes again. Jack felt that even a veteran who had seen battle didn't seem to possess such acting skills.

"Then where did the money under the mattress co from?" he pressed further.

Mickey sniffed, this ti with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"A few days ago, Joe ca to , saying he snuck into a building and found a huge sum of cash, hundreds of millions of dollars piled up on the shelves."

"Hundreds of millions of dollars? Are you sure?" Angela sat up straight, her eyes gleaming as she looked at him.

Mickey nodded. "Yes, and so machines, guarded by many people ard with automatic weapons."

"And then he stole so of it? Why would he spend it with you?" Angela questioned.

"We're good friends, he's a veteran too. We were always watching each other's backs when we were on the street."

Mickey was getting impatient, and Jack decided to test him further.

"So you got greedy and decided to kill him and keep the rest of the money for yourself?"

Mickey scoffed. "He only stole ten thousand dollars, and we spent half of it that day."

"I told him not to go back. He was lucky the first ti." He seed very guilty.

"I should have gone with him, because if it were , he would have gone with . We've always looked after each other."

As he spoke, he burst into tears.

Jack had basically ruled out him as the murderer. Tens of millions of dollars in cash — most people couldn't co up with such an outrageous story.

At this mont, Nolan pushed open the door and nodded to the two of them, gesturing for them to co out and talk.

Jack and Angela followed Nolan out of the interrogation room, and Tim, who had been listening to the entire interrogation through the one-way glass next door, also ca out.

"The money found in the hotel room was all counterfeit." Nolan's face was serious.

Jack's eyes lit up. Real money would be troubleso; perhaps Joe had stumbled upon the drug dealers' vault by accident, and the DEA or sothing might get involved, leading to a lot of wrangling.

But counterfeit money was perfect. If they could take them all down in one fell swoop, and by the ti the Secret Service got the news and wanted to claim credit, the case might be closed.