"Lindsay protects Katie like an older sister, you know, girls her age are always easily attracted to bad boys."
Hearing Keeson say this, Rossi leaned closer to him, seriously posing a hypothetical scenario.
"What if a group of boys Katie knows stopped by the roadside, offering them a ride? What do you think?"
"Lindsay might go with them, to ensure her safety." Keeson nodded.
Rossi sighed, saying with emotion, "You have a good daughter, thanks to your guidance. Perhaps that's the key to her still being alive."
A bitter look appeared on Keeson's face. "I taught her to stay away from n like ."
After ending their conversation with Keeson, Jack and Rossi walked out of the eting room, just in ti to run into Hotchner and Emily, who had just visited the parents of the deceased, Douglas Silverman.
"We didn't get any useful information. The boy's father is a busy blue-collar worker, working overti on weekends, and the mother went out of town to visit her parents."
Emily's expression was not good; dealing with the families of the deceased was never an easy task.
"He ntioned a na, Ryan, a new friend of Douglas's, but no last na. Garcia can't narrow down the search yet."
Just as the four were talking, JJ and Hannah erged from another eting room.
"The Owens don't recognize the boy either, but Bruce Owen's behavior is strange; he seems eager to leave the police station."
"We suspect he might know sothing, but he's clearly lost patience with the police."
The two girls voiced their suspicions.
"You an he might recognize Douglas, or even know who he's hanging out with?" Hotchner said, heading towards the Owens' eting room, but Rossi stopped him.
"Wait. If he's determined to seek revenge, he won't talk no matter how much you interrogate him. The Owens aren't suspects; we can't interrogate them."
"There are less than two hours until dark. If we drag this out until tomorrow, we all know what Lindsay will face."
Hotchner was furious. Bruce Owen had just lost his daughter and was blinded by hatred. Whatever he wanted to do, it wouldn't be good for the missing Lindsay.
"Reid, any good news from your map analysis?" Rossi asked, looking at Reid, who was busy at the map board.
"Not yet. Knowing Ryan's identity might help." Reid scratched his fuzzy head with the end of a whiteboard marker, looking troubled.
"Uh, I have a terrible idea, very risky, and not really in line with our police's position, but it might be useful," Jack said hesitantly.
"Tell , we don't have much ti," Rossi encouraged him.
"Bruce just lost his daughter Katie, so whatever he does, impulsively he might not care about another girl's life. But what if this person were Lindsay's father?"
Emily glared at Jack. "You an to send Keeson Vaughn to deal with Bruce Owen and force him to reveal what he knows? That's insane."
"This is the police station. Are we just going to watch a forr mob hitman torture a civilian?"
"Of course not, why don't we let Bruce approach Keeson Vaughn himself?" Jack smiled mysteriously.
"I told you, we don't know the boy in the photo. Right now, I just want to go ho with my wife and miss our daughter."
Bruce Owen and his grieving wife both looked haggard, their eyes bloodshot. Clearly, neither of them had had a proper rest since learning of their daughter's death.
Standing opposite them were Jack and Hannah. Hannah was still quietly comforting Mrs. Owen, while Jack had a stern face, looking very businesslike.
"I'm sorry, you can't leave now. The Vaughn family's identities are sowhat sensitive. You need to stay at the police station until the federal marshals agree."
Jack's casual fabrication convinced Bruce Owen, and his expression showed a hint of surprise.
"Why? We know nothing about what secrets they have."
"Well, we've known each other for four or five years, and I know Keeson's a tough guy, but so what? He's just a little overprotective. I know he teaches Lindsay to shoot, but this is the West, isn't it?"
"Hey, relax, have so water."
Jack walked to the water dispenser, pretending to be concerned, and poured him a glass of water, his expression a mix of helplessness and sympathy.
"This is a request from the U.S. Marshals. You know what they do. In this matter, the FBI can only cooperate. Did you see that fat guy next to Keeson? He's with him almost 24/7."
"I don't understand, and I don't care about that. Since Keeson didn't do this, why are you detaining us?"
Jack raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise as he launched into a rambling monologue. "You really don't know what he used to do? He's a really good impersonator. You know, he's killed more people than any criminal I've ever seen."
Seeing Bruce Owen's incredulous look, Jack acted like a rookie agent who couldn't keep his mouth shut. "But he's an important figure now. Our orders are to prioritize his safety, so we're afraid we'll have to trouble you."
"Once the U.S. Marshals' protection team arrives and takes him away, you can go ho. I promise."
After listening to Jack's rambling, Bruce Owen fell silent, pondered for a while, and then looked up to ask a question.
"Can I speak with Keeson alone? I apologize, you know, I was a bit harsh on him earlier."
Jack poured himself a glass of water, concealing a hint of smugness in his eyes, and shrugged nonchalantly.
"No problem, as long as Keeson's 'bodyguard' doesn't object."
"Are you sure you can keep an eye on him?"
Rossi, who had appeared beside Jack at so point, asked worriedly.
Watching Bruce Owen push open the other end of the conference room door, say a few words, and then the chubby federal marshal, Pat Mannan, get up and walk out, a cigarette dangling from his lips, towards the back door of the police station.
The BAU mbers, who had been pretending to be busy but actually observing everything intentionally or unintentionally, breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was proceeding according to plan; Bruce Owen really did know sothing.
"Keeping an eye on him is the duty of a federal marshal, isn't it? I just went out to run errands for everyone, buying so dinner." Jack tossed his car keys in his hand, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
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