Not long after, footsteps sounded again outside, growing closer until they stopped at the door of the small conference room. The next second, the door opened, and Finlay's face peeked in.
"Tell , is that man the murderer? Why are you investigating him?"
He carefully closed the door, his expression anxious but forced to lower his voice.
"I'm an IRS investigator. Murder cases aren't within my scope of investigation. I approached him because of another, more important case."
Jack wore a mysterious, detached smile.
"What could be more important than a murder case? Do you know how many years it's been since there's been a murder in this town?"
Seeing Jack's unmoved deanor, clearly unwilling to say anything, Finlay's face darkened further.
"To you, he's just a corpse. What I'm investigating are the countless bones hidden beneath this calm surface."
Jack abruptly stood up. Although he didn't have the imposing stature of Reacher, compared to the detective who was only a little over 1.7 ters tall, he still commanded a significant presence.
"You may have verified my identity, but you should understand that our level of trust is still very limited. There are so things you wouldn't believe even if I told you now."
Startled by Jack's sudden seriousness, Finlay's breath hitched. He forced himself to remain calm, staring intently into the other man's eyes for a long ti, seemingly trying to determine if this guy from the IRS was bluffing.
Ultimately, he realized with a sigh that he couldn't even convince himself. He'd been in this town for a while now, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself he was just coasting or didn't care about his colleagues, sothing felt off. This guy was definitely not exaggerating.
"Then can you tell what the words and phone number on this note an? We found it in the deceased's shoes."
Finlay produced an evidence bag containing a small note with the word 'PLURIBUS' and a string of numbers written on it.
Jack knew, of course, that according to the original plot, the police would find two bodies near that overpass, one of which belonged to Joe Reacher, Reacher's brother, and the note was hidden in Joe's shoe.
Last night, the Wolff brothers, following his instructions, had been tracking Joe. He was eting with the deceased when he was suddenly attacked by unidentified individuals. The deceased died on the spot, and Joe was seriously injured.
If no unexpected factors had intervened, Joe would have slipped the crucial clue he had obtained — the note — into his shoe before he died. However, after being rescued by the Wolff brothers, the note naturally ended up in Braxton's hands, and was then passed on to Jack.
So, early this morning, while it was still dark, Jack rushed to Margrave and, based on Braxton's description, found the cri scene.
He not only slipped the note into the deceased's shoe, but also, worried the body wouldn't be discovered, moved the cardboard box covering it slightly. He then went to the restaurant where he'd been waiting at noon, only secretly relieved when a large man appeared outside.
If the world had a will, it would surely be moved by his efforts in maintaining the original storyline, since only the number on the note could lead to the key witness revealing the Kleiner Foundation's cris.
The word 'PLURIBUS' translates to "out of many" or "unity," and Joe ant that after gathering all the clues, he had found the key person to reveal the truth — the owner of this phone number.
So Jack answered quite naturally, "I don't know, but why don't you just check who owns this number?"
Finlay's tone held a hint of helplessness. "Private phone companies are more bureaucratic than the police system. We're still waiting for a response."
Jack shrugged. "The IRS can't help either, but I have a feeling the owner of this number might be quite important."
Feeling that this guy had just said sothing pointless again, Finlay didn't bother asking any more questions and waved his hand. "I'll arrange for the two of you to be locked up together, but that holess man isn't a strong suspect. He'll probably be released first thing tomorrow morning."
"No problem. That fake arrest warrant will be withdrawn first thing tomorrow morning, but I can give you so advice," Jack said.
"What advice?"
"Don't judge a person by stereotypes. That Reacher will be a good helper. I suggest you dig into his resu. Sotis admitting that soone is better than you isn't a bad thing."
Jack smiled and said sothing that stung.
The detective remained silent for a long ti before nodding with difficulty. "I really hate him, but I'll consider your suggestion."
[A/n: I haven't watched the series, is this true? (hating)]
The so-called detention cell was actually a small room enclosed by steel bars in a corner of the police station's office area. Finlay opened the cell door, and Reacher, who was sitting inside, looked up at the two of them upon hearing the sound.
"Ah, we et again." Jack greeted Reacher again.
Reacher ignored him, only frowning slightly.
Jack persisted, trying to strike up a conversation. "How's the peach pie at that restaurant? Is it as delicious as I described? I dare say it's the best peach pie in Georgia."
Reacher frowned at him for a long ti before replying, "They rushed in and arrested before I could even take my first bite."
"Well, that's a sha." Jack shrugged.
One sentence killed the conversation, and Jack didn't want to be too enthusiastic and arouse the other's suspicion, so the silence lasted for a long ti.
[A/n: Bro, you just didn't give him a BJ, that's all, didn't want to be too enthusiastic, he says.]
About two or three hours later, the policewoman brought over a cup of coffee and handed it to Reacher.
"You've been in here for quite a while. I thought you might need sothing to perk you up."
"Thank you." Reacher stood up, walked to the railing, took the coffee, and smiled gratefully.
Jack suddenly looked up, staring longingly at the policewoman. Although he had already eaten and drunk his fill in the restaurant, even having three cups of coffee, he was upset about the unfairness of only giving it to Reacher.
The pretty policewoman glared at him, seeing his smile. She rolled her eyes, turned around, poured another cup, but didn't add any sugar, and handed it to him directly.
Jack walked to Reacher, took the coffee, and took a small sip. He almost choked on the bitterness, and dejectedly carried the cup back to his seat.
"I guessed you liked black coffee," the policewoman said to Reacher, who was still standing by the railing.
"How did you guess?" Reacher picked up his coffee and took a sip.
"You don't seem to like anything fancy. Crear and sugar are just fancy stuff," the policewoman replied.
"So you think I'm innocent?" Reacher asked.
"Why do you say that?" The policewoman smiled knowingly.
"Because I don't think you'd give coffee to a guilty person."
Jack, standing nearby, was annoyed.
Sure enough, the policewoman pointed at him. "That conman over there who preys on elderly won, didn't I give him coffee too?"
So annoying! You two can flirt all you want, and I'm just watching the drama unfold and I have to get dragged into it?
Reacher seed a little surprised, glancing at Jack's innocent-looking face. "So, he really isn't one of yours?"
Jack finally couldn't help but speak up. "Are you stupid? Do you think there's any room left on that wall for more photos? If I hadn't rushed over here, I might still be eating crawfish in Louisiana today."
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