This information ca from the group's casual conversation after dinner. Alia, who had been taken directly back to the hotel by Braxton to rest, had finally recovered and shared so local news with everyone.
Although she still looked haggard, her spirits improved considerably after receiving Jack's assurance that he would do his best to find out the truth.
Jack took the opportunity to ask her about the story of the hunter Corey Lambert.
Corey had a daughter nad Emily, who was once best friends with Alia's sister Natalie. The two girls were the sa age and almost inseparable.
Three years ago, Emily disappeared at a party, and her body was discovered several days later by a shepherd boy in a field about 20 ters from Corey's house.
"So, what exactly happened to that girl?" Jane's cheeks were flushed; she had been quite chilly earlier. Jack ordered a bottle of whiskey and poured her a glass.
Alia shook her head. "Nobody knows. The wolves had destroyed the evidence. It was only through DNA testing that the body was identified."
"After that, Uncle Corey sold his sports equipnt store at the ski resort and beca a professional hunter."
Tears welled in her eyes again. Braxton poured her a little juice. Alia abstained from any alcoholic beverages, a sentint stemming from her past experiences.
In Native Arican tradition, many hallucinogens were used as tools to communicate with spirits, such as tobacco, mushrooms, and certain animal secretions. This is more rampant in countries like Ching Chong.
Among Alia's paternal relatives, two died from cirrhosis caused by alcoholism, and three died in drunk driving accidents, which is why she has such an extre aversion to alcohol.
Not wanting to further dredge up the girl's painful past, Jack instructed Braxton to take care of his fiancée, arranged to go to Alia's parents' house together the next morning, and then went shopping with Jane.
The thought of wearing a deceased girl's clothes made Jane feel uneasy, not because of any cultural taboo, but because she rembered the sorrow in the old Native Arican woman's eyes.
Jane truly understood the family's kindness; though reluctant, they had given her their deceased granddaughter's clothes to change into, despite her thin clothing.
And Jack understood the complex look in Corey Lambert's eyes when Jane appeared before him after changing.
Jane bought a full set of warm clothes at a shop in town, changed into them, and then specifically found a dry cleaner to have her original clothes cleaned, repeatedly instructing the staff to handle them carefully.
It was already late when they returned to the hotel. Jack escorted Jane to her room, said hello, and prepared to go to sleep; his room was next door.
"Co in for a drink." Jane said, still seemingly tipsy, her cheeks flushed, looking even more alluring than during the day.
"Uh, no thanks, I already have a girlfriend," Jack silently changed the plural form of a certain word in his mind.
Jane's expression stiffened, her hand on the doorfra slipped, and then she glared at him through gritted teeth, saying irritably, "I wanted to talk to you about this case."
"Ah, sorry, sorry," Jack quickly apologized. Whether it was a misunderstanding or not, his answer had been hurtful to the girl.
The small hotel room wasn't large, and the furnishings were simple, except for an exaggerated wine cabinet with a distinctly local flavor; it wasn't much different from a typical hotel room.
Jane ca in, turned on the heater, took off her coat, poured Jack a small glass of whiskey, and then wearily sank into the sofa.
"Before coming here, I did a little research, though it was rushed."
Jack didn't reply, just slowly swirled his glass, listening quietly to her story.
"And the most recent report I could find about them was fifteen years ago."
"And I'm just a rookie sent here to go through the administrative process. Maybe tomorrow, I'll get a call and be sent back to Las Vegas."
Jane's voice grew weaker and weaker, until it was barely audible. When Jack ca to his senses, he found her already softly snoring.
"If only there were more people like you in this world." Jack remarked, lifting the sleeping girl onto the bed. He touched her forehead, discovering the flush on her cheeks wasn't from the small glass of whiskey, but from a fever.
He used his abilities to help her, removed her shoes, covered her with a blanket, and then quietly left her room.
This girl, though seemingly a bit simple-minded, wasn't stupid. Clearly, a fool couldn't beco an FBI agent, and from the mont she arrived, she knew she was rely a tool for executing bureaucratic procedures.
Just like Jack, who hadn't taken Rossi's promised support seriously from the start. It wasn't that he didn't trust Rossi, but in this place, the law was more useless than used toilet paper.
Perhaps Rossi did have enough influence to land the BAU's Gulfstream at the nearest airport, but the favor he would have to do, or rather, the price he would pay, would far exceed dealing with the cannibals in New xico.
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