"A scam, pretty good idea," Jack muttered, tapping his phone screen to send a ssage to Justine before locking the phone and handing it to the detective.
"Put in the fingerprinting queue after that suspect. You'll see an arrest warrant."
Finlay's heart stirred slightly, but his face remained calm. He took the phone and put it in his pocket. Jack then handed him a car key.
"That old Jeep SUV in the parking lot is mine. My gun is in the glove compartnt; please keep it safe."
"Is there anything else?" Finlay asked.
Jack put his hands in front of him, indicating there was no need to put them behind his back. Finlay rolled his eyes, walked back to him, and handcuffed him. Just then, the two police cars from earlier pulled into the police station parking lot.
"By the way, I still don't know your na," Finlay said, leading him towards the police station as he walked.
"Jack Tavelor, just call Jack."
Jack used his real na directly. Justine had already hacked into the police station's computer and was probably fabricating a fake file for him. Anyone logging into the police system through this computer would find false information about him, including fingerprints.
He deliberately slowed his pace, watching the two small-town police officers escort the big guy into the station as if facing a formidable enemy, and then followed.
"You better get in here, you bastard."
The bald, older policeman holding a shotgun shoved him hard, then stood still after entering the room. Reacher, who was surveying the police station's layout, remained motionless, slowly turning his head to look at him expressionlessly. The other young policeman took two steps back in fright, his hand already on his sidearm.
Jack, blocked outside the door, raised his hands, which he had to hold up due to his handcuffs, and smiled and waved to him as a greeting.
[A/n: I don't know if it is his way of trying to befriend Reacher, but it is stupid and chingchong, and also please don't call him Brother Reacher. For chingchong dick's sake, please don't.]
"Sir, please co this way. I'll register you. Of course, this isn't a request, it's an order. But unless you refuse to cooperate, I won't use violence against you."
The pretty policewoman interrupted the standoff with her sweet voice.
Jack, outside the door, turned and glanced at Finlay, chuckling softly, "Looks like your police station isn't very united."
The policewoman's implication was that the bald old policeman's behavior was wrong, a way of calming Reacher down.
Finlay shrugged and said in a low voice, "This isn't my police station. I'm just a detective, and besides, I've only been here a few months."
Reacher had already cooperated and walked up to the policewoman. She thanked him and asked, "Now I'll enter your information. What's your na?"
Before Reacher could answer, the bald old policeman tossed him a passport.
"This gorilla won't talk, but he has a passport on him. Jack Reacher, no middle na."
"Why plastic cable ties?" The policewoman looked at Reacher's bound hands.
"The handcuffs are too small for him," the young officer swallowed hard and replied.
Just then, the police station doors opened again, and Jack, handcuffed, was escorted in by Finlay. Several officers, especially the policewoman, looked at the two with surprise, wondering how they could be handcuffed so quickly after just leaving as cousins.
Finlay sighed, "Don't worry about us, you can continue."
At this mont, the portly police chief walked over, picked up Reacher's passport, and glanced at it. "This is a new passport. Are you planning to leave the country soon?"
He seed convinced that Reacher had preditated murder and was planning to flee.
While the policewoman was taking Reacher's fingerprints, the bald old policeman threw the other items he had found on Reacher onto the front desk: a travel toothbrush, over $200 in cash, and a French WWII dal.
"Who would run around with these things? Do you have any friends in town? A girlfriend?" Seeing that Reacher remained silent, the portly chief beca sowhat annoyed.
"What the hell are you doing in our town? Don't want to talk? Maybe putting you in a detention cell will change your mind?"
Finlay, unable to bear it any longer, asked, suppressing his anger, "How exactly do you want him to change his mind?"
"Explain to him the constitutional rights granted by the Fifth and Fourteenth Andnts, and then hope he voluntarily relinquishes those rights?"
The fat chief nodded, sowhat confused. "Yes."
Jack almost couldn't help but laugh out loud. The quality of the town's police was truly worrying. Reacher hadn't uttered a word since his arrest, precisely using the 'due process clause' encompassed by the two constitutional andnts Finlay ntioned.
In layman's terms, it's 'I have the right to remain silent.' As long as he didn't do anything against police orders, the police couldn't use that extrely powerful 'discretionary power.'
Don't be fooled by the tense appearance of the two town policen, one old and one young; they were definitely intimidated by the big guy's physique. Jack bet that when they stord into the restaurant to make the arrest, Reacher, though silent, had obediently raised his hands and fully cooperated.
So, in Finlay's view, this suspect nad Reacher was either a seasoned offender well-versed in law enforcent procedures, or a fellow criminal.
"Leave him to . Take him to the eting room. I'll be there after I've dealt with this guy."
Hearing Finlay's order, the two small-town police officers turned and left with Reacher. Even without using his superhuman senses, Jack could hear the two words the bald old policeman muttered through clenched teeth, aning everyone present had heard them.
"Boston."
Jack glanced at the police photos hanging on the wall of the police station. The small town police station had a chief, a detective, and three officers — only five people in total, seemingly divided into three or four factions. Interesting.
[A/n: I an, there are only 5 people, then how 4 groups, will one person form multiple factions?]
Seeing Finlay take over, the fat chief turned and went back to his office.
"What's this guy all about?" The policewoman looked at Jack, who had just co to claim kinship but was now handcuffed.
"Let's record his identity first. This guy should be carrying a warrant." Finlay wasn't sure either, and his words were sowhat vague.
Jack, pressing his fingerprint on the electronic fingerprint scanner while winking at the policewoman.
"My cousin here is a very impartial person."
The data search seed to take a while; the policewoman opened a file on her computer and read aloud: "Jack Tavelor, 22 years old, birthplace... blah blah blah, suspected of financial fraud."
"You're a gigolo who specifically targets elderly won?"
The policewoman's beautiful eyes widened in surprise, seemingly incredulous. With such good looks, wouldn't it be better to just find so rich won to swindle money and sex? Why target won in their sixties and seventies? Does this guy have so kind of special fetish?
Jack's eyes widened in equal surprise. Justine was using her position for personal gain; she was definitely retaliating against him for Chris's accidental injury.
[A/n: This f*ucking passiveness of him is irritating at best, disgusting is the most normal feeling. I an, co on, you have the power to develop your own hacking skills, create an virtual assistant (AI), i an you could do all that, but no, you have to take help from soone who you helped but still holds petty grudges all the ti. Suck a black one man.]
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