Just as this burly man was about to step into the fast food restaurant, a young couple who had just finished paying pushed open the door and brushed past him. The man then roughly shoved the girl against a car, angrily yelling at her.
Jack could only vaguely hear snippets of conversation inside the restaurant; it seed the man was furious because the girl had overpaid her tip, and the girl was frantically apologizing.
Reacher stopped, expressionless, silently watching the impotently enraged man before him. Inside, Jack calmly picked up his coffee cup, a slight smile playing on his lips — the show was about to begin.
But the next second, he was stunned to realize that the last sip of coffee in his cup had already been finished.
Jack frowned, feeling that this place was definitely against him; his image as the mastermind behind everything always seed to last less than three seconds.
[A/n: Dude, Even a dead body would be eligible to be a mastermind, but not you.]
He waved to the elderly lady with graying temples, added a 50% tip to her plate, and walked out of the restaurant.
Just then, the man in the couple, who had just unleashed a provocative roar at Reacher, was about to approach him when he seed to suddenly calm down, or perhaps finally realized the vast difference in their physiques, and froze in place.
Reacher stared at him silently, the air between them thick with tension. The man swallowed hard.
"Listen, buddy, I was just in a bad mood. This won't happen again," he said, then sheepishly turned to open the passenger door for his girlfriend and quickly drove away.
Jack walked up to Reacher, who was half a head taller than him, and the two n t face-to-face.
Jack greeted him warmly, "The peach pie here is good, you must try it."
Reacher didn't speak, but smiled and nodded, then strode into the restaurant.
Jack got into his car, checked the location of the local police station, and less than a minute after entering the town, two police cars sped past with sirens blaring, heading straight for the restaurant.
He slightly increased his speed; he needed to get there before Reacher was arrested.
"Hello, Officer, do you have a detective from Boston here? I'd like to see him."
Jack flashed his signature business smile at the pretty policewoman, who was montarily stunned. It took her a while to recover before she quickly pointed to the simply partitioned office behind her and turned around, raising her voice slightly.
"Detective Finlay, a stranger is looking for you."
A thin, bespectacled Black man in a wool suit, who looked to be in his forties, pushed open the glass-enclosed wooden door — which had virtually no soundproofing — and looked at Jack with so confusion.
"Ah, dear cousin, it's been so long! I've missed you so much."
Jack strode forward and hugged the bewildered man, whispering in his ear, "IRS investigator, is it convenient to talk privately?"
Detective Finlay paused for a mont, then imdiately understood. "Let's go outside."
He smiled and walked out of the small police station with Jack, as if they were old friends reunited. Behind them ca the question in a low voice from a pretty female police officer.
"Why does Detective Finlay have a white cousin?"
Detective Finlay turned a couple of corners and ca to an open space behind the police station, frowning as he looked at Jack.
"I'm sorry, I need to verify your identity. Why would the IRS co to a small town like ours? And why are you looking for ?"
"Call this number. With your connections in Boston, I'm sure you can easily verify its authenticity."
Jack handed over a small slip of paper with a number written on it. It was Ray King's number; he had spoken with him for nearly an hour on his way to Margrave.
He had roughly explained what he knew about a criminal organization controlling the town, and why he, Hannah, and the Wolff brothers were there. He promised to notify the IRS at the appropriate ti, and the old man readily granted him the status of a temporary investigator.
It's important to understand that the Secret Service isn't the only agency handling counterfeit money cases; the IRS, as a departnt under the Treasury Departnt, also has the authority to intervene. Now that they had intelligence, they could secretly create a file beforehand, and when Jack sent the ssage at the right ti, the IRS could get a share of the credit from the Secret Service. Why not?
He figured Joe Reacher, still in the ICU, wouldn't mind.
"I know you have many questions, but I can only answer one of them. Why did I contact you? Because although you voluntarily transferred to this town, it was only to escape your original environnt. And you haven't been here long, so you don't have any connection with the people or things here."
As the saying goes, one shouldn't speak too deeply with soone you don't know well. Although Jack understood the plot and knew that Detective Finlay was a mber of the protagonist team, words alone weren't enough. He had no evidence. It would be better to use his IRS status to beco a mber of the protagonist team and help them uncover a corner of the dark secret, to get a first look.
Detective Finlay hesitated for a while, looking at Jack with a serious expression, seemingly pondering the information Jack revealed in his words. After a long while, he finally spoke.
"You know well?"
"Not at all, but I believe we'll get to know each other soon."
Jack spoke honestly. He didn't rember much about him from watching the show; the only thing he rembered was that this guy was a devoted lover who, because his wife died, felt he had neglected her due to being busy with work, so he punished himself by voluntarily transferring from Boston to this remote town. That was all.
"So, what do you need to do?" Finlay asked.
Jack pulled out his phone and glanced at the ti. "In a few minutes, your people will be bringing in a suspect. Use whatever thod you want, have by his side, even if it's just to be locked up together. Absolutely do not reveal my identity, and do not arouse suspicion from anyone else in your departnt."
Finlay gave him a deep look, his eyes full of doubt.
"You know I ordered his arrest because of a murder case, right?"
Jack nodded, urging, "I promise you'll find out the truth about this murder case. Hurry up, your officers should be back soon."
"OK, please cooperate."
Finlay acted decisively, pulling out handcuffs and walking behind him.
"Wait a minute, what charge are you planning to use to lock up?" Jack asked.
Finlay tilted his head and thought for half a second, "Wanted for fraud, wanting to co and seek refuge with my cousin?"
[A/n: Here I don't understand, if it is because he is impersonating the so called cousin, or his has a criminal background, no clarity.]
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