"So you ca to LA this ti to stop this?" Jack suddenly realized.
"Yes, but I didn't succeed. Those bureaucrats at the District Attorney's office were too eager to do sothing."
Rossi no longer hid his emotions in front of Jack, his face showing worry.
"She's bound to cause trouble. Delmont is clearly overconfident."
Jack nodded in agreent. "Unfortunately, we can only passively wait for her to make the first move."
"If you had the chance to strike first, what would you do?" Rossi asked with interest, his tone carrying a hint of probing.
'Of course, I'd kill her outright.'
Of course, he couldn't say that aloud. If it weren't for the fact that this was such a large-scale operation, making it inconvenient to act, Jack would have genuinely wanted to use underhanded thods to finish off this woman. The accountant had contacted him yesterday and was now towing his trailer, with Justine on the way to LA.
Pretending to ponder for a mont, Jack adopted the deanor of a good student answering a teacher's question.
"Search her cell directly, investigate all her contacts in the past six months. There's not much a death row inmate can do in prison. If she wants to cause trouble, she needs soone outside to cooperate. A woman like Rosalind definitely has many admirers."
The worship of serial killers is a common phenonon in Europe and Arica and in many countries; almost every famous serial killer has admirers or copycats. Jack didn't quite understand this phenonon before, but after transmigrating, he understood it better.
Rossi smiled, seemingly sharing a similar view: "I've already arranged for FBI agents to search her cell."
Jack appropriately showed a surprised expression, half genuine, half to flatter his future boss. After all, he had been in the corporate world for 20 years; he knew this basic trick.
"While it's very likely we'll co up empty-handed, Rosalind isn't so easy to deal with. Tell your other thoughts."
Jack's brain started racing. His mories of the original plot were limited to Lucy being kidnapped, but this world was stitched together too absurdly. Even David Rossi, the protagonist of *Criminal Minds*, was involved. Who knew where the plot would veer off course?
But one thing was certain: that woman was definitely going to cause trouble.
"Is it possible that Rosalind has already laid out plans against the Wilshire Police Departnt?"
Rossi was taken aback, seemingly surprised by Jack's idea. He asked with interest, "Tell why you think that."
Jack followed suit unhurriedly, launching into a confident argunt: "We all know that no matter what Rosalind does, her goal is singular and clear."
"Freedom, and more killing," Rossi agreed.
"Clearly, escaping isn't her first option. As a death row inmate, she's been under strict control for four years. If she had a way to escape, she wouldn't have waited until now."
"So she only has two paths: take advantage of this release opportunity to be rescued by her accomplices, or create a twist in the previous case, such as adding so suspicious points to postpone the execution and then looking for other opportunities."
"Are you putting yourself in her shoes?" Rossi didn't hide the admiration in his eyes.
Jack was secretly pleased; what followed was his real purpose.
"Given the current level of vigilance with the LAPD, the possibility of a forced rescue is almost zero. She's just a serial killer, not the leader of so large criminal organization. Her admirers obviously don't have the ability to rescue her from SWAT."
"So there will definitely be so mishaps during the search for the victim's body; she needs to further seize the initiative."
Just then, Rossi's phone vibrated. He scrolled through it, marveling, "Modern technology really develops rapidly. Back then, we had to wait for faxes in the office, but now, as long as there's an internet signal, we can check evidence anywhere."
He then displayed a photo on the screen, showing a corner of a small cell.
"Let tell you what I saw."
Jack glanced at it; the photo showed a chocolate wrapper in the center.
"Rosalind's way of contacting the outside world. She's a death row inmate; although she can communicate, all her communication records are strictly censored. But the prison's black market can't be stopped, so soone outside is indeed using this thod to pass information to her."
Rossi smiled broadly. "You're even smarter than I thought. Let's make her feel like she has the upper hand first, then it's her turn to make her move."
Jack pressed his advantage, offering his suggestion: "I think maybe we can do so preventative work first."
A long convoy of over ten police cars, followed by a group of dia reporters' vehicles, traveled at a slow pace, taking a full 45 minutes to reach their destination — the southern mountains of Griffith Park — along the winding mountain road.
Park police had already blocked off the road, and all dia reporters except for the news van carrying Tyler Kelly were kept outside the cordon.
Stopping in a clearing in the woods, Jack got out, took a backpack full of bottled water from the trunk and slung it over his shoulder, then checked his Glock and spare gun.
Tyler Kelly, who had changed into sneakers earlier, got out and followed closely behind Jack.
"Do you think she'll use this to escape?"
Jack holstered his gun, pointed to the police helicopter overhead and the dozens of LAPD officers around him. "Unless she's trying to commit suicide, I guarantee she won't get ten steps."
He then turned to Rossi, who was leaning against the police car: "Sir, aren't you going up the mountain?"
Rossi smiled and pointed to his Italian handmade leather shoes. "This is your job, young people."
Jack's lips twitched, and he followed the group who got out of the armored vehicle, speechless.
Hondo directed his squad to spread out; they would be responsible for the outermost periter.
The Wilshire Police Departnt officers huddled together, forming the core of their defensive periter under Commander Grey's leadership. Only Tim carried an AR-15, just in case.
Jack grabbed Tyler Kelly, who was eager to join in, saying, "Hey, don't try to talk to Rosalind, or you'll be stuck in the car."
Tyler Kelly pouted and gestured for the caraman carrying the large cara to follow.
But soon she perked up like a little girl: "It's sunny today, a perfect day for hiking."
Jack glanced at the dissipating mist on the mountainside, sowhat speechless. Mount Wilson's highest point is 1700 ters, and they were halfway up, about to enter the woods. He wondered if this girl would still be as happy after an hour of hiking.
At least the caraman next to her wouldn't be too happy; that behemoth he was carrying looked to weigh almost 20 pounds.
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