Reborn: The Rookie Detective Chapter 274 274: 274-Tracking

"He drove off with my car!" The back door of the police station was flung open, and Pat Mannan, his face covered in blood, stumbled in.

"That bastard stole my car."

Under the astonished gazes of everyone, he grabbed the walkie-talkie on the table and shouted, "This is Pat Mannan. All units, be alert! Hunt down Keeson Vaughn!"

Seeing everyone in the BAU drop what they were doing and look at him, Pat Mannan looked sowhat disheveled. Hotchner walked up to him with a grim face.

"What happened? Weren't you following him the whole ti?"

Pat Mannan opened his mouth, his initial fierce montum faltering. After a long pause, he finally said dejectedly,

"He ambushed , knocked unconscious, and took my car keys."

"Bruce Owen must have recognized Douglas in the photo, which ans he knows who the killer is. He released a monster to find the murderer of his daughter."

Rossi instantly "deduced" the "truth."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm in big trouble!" Pat Mannan, no longer caring about causing trouble for Bruce Owen, grabbed the walkie-talkie he had just put down and ran out.

Rewinding to 15 minutes earlier, in the parking lot connected to the back entrance of the police station, Jack, already seated in his Firebird, smiled as he watched Keeson Vaughn pretending to ask for a cigarette in the distance. He then cleanly and decisively punched Pat Mannan to the ground.

[A/n: I will burn your firebird, sicko.]

"Hiss," Jack gasped for the federal marshal; that punch was partly driven by personal grudge.

Seeing Keeson Vaughn fumble for his car keys in the man's pocket and then reach for his belt, Jack beca uneasy.

Pat Mannan, while sowhat dim-witted, wasn't exactly a bad guy and was fairly dutiful. If Keeson took his service weapon, it would be a recipe for early retirent. Fortunately, after a mont's hesitation, Keeson ultimately didn't act. He got up and quickly ran towards the blue rcury that Pat Mannan had driven to conceal his identity.

Watching the rcury drive away from the parking lot, Jack started his Firebird and slowly followed.

It must be said that although this world didn't have the well-known "Knight Rider" TV series from Jack's previous life, the Firebird's appearance was still a bit too flashy and not suitable for tailing.

Less than ten minutes after the two cars left the Southeast Precinct, Jack was spotted. Of course, his tailing was quite perfunctory; he practically blatantly announced that he was being watched.

The rcury slowly pulled over to the side of the road, and Jack leisurely stopped less than 10 ters away.

Keeson got out of his car, walked to Jack's lowered car door, and looked at him silently.

Jack grinned and pulled a Churchill cigar from his pocket, offering it to him with a joke, "You're not going to punch everyone who offers you a cigarette in the face, are you?"

Keeson took the cigar, his face still stern. "You've been watching the whole ti?"

"Neither Bruce nor you want to talk, are you? What did you and Bruce talk about? You promised to kill the person who killed his daughter?"

Jack bombarded him with questions.

"Would you stop ?" Keeson didn't answer directly.

"If you hurt innocent people, or go too far," Jack said bluntly.

"Like when you took that gun, I wouldn't have been sitting quietly in the car."

"So this was all part of your plan, right? Why are you so confident you can control everything? Just because of that big thing under your arm?" Keeson glanced at Jack's spare gun with feigned contempt.

Jack flashed a harmless, business-like smile, as if the person standing before him wasn't a ruthless, rciless gangster assassin who needed psychiatric drugs to control his violent impulses.

"Believe , you won't want to know."

Looking at the other's affable expression, Keeson felt a chill creep into his heart, like a hyena foraging on the African savanna suddenly finding itself facing a hungry lion.

"You've killed a lot of people?" Keeson was puzzled. This young FBI agent looked to be only in his early twenties; how could he have such a murderous aura?

"Not really," Jack replied uncertainly, squinting as he tried to recall. The terrorists sent to their deaths on Holo Island by the Claymore shouldn't count as his kills, right?

"I can't rember exactly. I've killed quite a few, whether they count as people or not." The ones he killed with the Barrett during the luring were hard to count; the crowd was too dense, and the fighting was fragnted.

As for the cannibals he killed in New xico, it's hard to say whether they could still be considered human, but excluding them, his record isn't particularly impressive, at least not comparable to that guy next door nad Jimmy.

Keeson was a little confused by his answer, unsure if he was joking or serious.

"Are you sure you want to waste your ti here with ?" Jack pulled out his phone and pointed to the ti.

Seeing him turn and leave without a word, Jack called out from behind, "Don't go too far, your daughter needs your care."

Keeson paused, raised his right hand and waved, got into his car, started the engine, and rged into the evening rush hour traffic.

Half an hour later, seeing the blue rcury sedan parked at the back door of a house, Jack took out his phone and called Hotchner.

"Jackson Street, yes, I think I need backup later."

However, before he could finish speaking, a gunshot shattered the surrounding silence.

"Fuck!" Jack opened the car door, switched the phone to his left hand, and drew his Glock from his waist.

"Call 911, I heard gunshots."

At the sa ti, he thought to himself, Keeson isn't ard. Could he have been killed while rushing in? Could this retired mobster of ten years really have slipped up like this?

Before he even reached him, Keeson erged from the house carrying a Winchester M1887 lever-action shotgun.

Seeing Jack, he imdiately tucked the gun into his waistband. "I found out where my daughter is."

"Huh, and then?" Jack was slightly taken aback, seeing Keeson acting like a character from a movie, and worried about the fate of the naless thug inside.

"I only broke his leg. He and another guy nad Ryan Phillips hid her at a school two blocks away, Mayford High School. Want to co?"

Seeing Jack holster his gun, Keeson got into his car and drove towards his daughter's high school.

Since he hadn't killed anyone on the spot, Jack didn't bother to go in and check. He turned and walked towards his Firebird; soone else had called the police anyway.

"Yes. Ryan Phillips is hiding at the high school the girl attends. I'm on my way. You guys hurry."

Jack hung up the phone and sped off towards his destination.