Jack smirked maliciously and mocked as he held up the evidence bag.
"Excuse , look at this. I found Caleb White's diary. Your admirer is clearly not a decent person. He recorded every case you told him about, every murder, all the burial sites, all your secrets."
"So, there will be no more deals, and no more police trotting out for you. If I were you, I would find so other hobbies. After all, you will have a long ti to enjoy alone."
Rosalind finally broke down, her face contorted with rage, and roared at Jack, "You're dead! I'll find a way out, I definitely will! When you fall into my hands, you will suffer unbearable pain, kneeling before like an insect, licking my toes, just begging to end your life as soon as possible!"
"You're too old!" Jack left the room with this inexplicable remark, signaling the prison guards behind him to take her away.
Jack certainly wouldn't dare provoke anyone; after all, long-range sniping and bomb attacks were beyond his current capabilities. But he didn't care at all about this kind of serial killer who only targeted the weak. If this old woman really had the ability to escape from prison and cause him trouble, Jack wouldn't mind helping her gain a few bullets her instantly.
The next morning, Jack, who rarely slept in, was woken up by a phone call from Christian Wolff, the accountant. His sleep ti was getting shorter and shorter these days, and sleeping in was rely a way to adjust his mood.
After all, experiencing yesterday's case, especially seeing the corpses of those victims who had suffered inhuman torture, was quite a shock to one's ntal state.
After getting up, washing up, and tidying up the guest room a bit, the accountant arrived in a Ford Raptor with a trailer towed behind. After barely managing to get the trailer into the backyard, Jack clicked his tongue at the vegetable garden that had been half-ruined, feeling a little heartbroken.
The guest room was prepared for Justine. Chris had to coax and cajole her for ages before finally getting her out of the car. Jack, having exhausted all other options, went out and bought a baby monitor to place in the room.
This way, even if Chris slept in the RV, he could keep an eye on Justine's every move. This girl's problem was much more serious; Jack estimated that getting her to speak and communicate with ordinary people was already the limit.
He had no confidence that she could be as outwardly indistinguishable from ordinary people as Chris, or completely independent.
Of course, even so, for Chris and Justine's father, it was already a miracle.
Even with Chris's own experience as proof, it had taken considerable effort to convince Justine's father, Professor Harper, to allow him to bring Justine to LA alone.
In fact, this psychology professor, who had run a sanatorium and research institute specifically for his daughter with Asperger's syndro, always believed that Jack was so kind of sorcerer who possessed mystical magic, because science could no longer explain everything he saw in Chris.
Jack's treatnt of Justine couldn't be the sa as Chris's. The woman was completely unable to handle any stimulation; this was the first ti in over 30 years she'd left the small room at the research institute.
So Jack had to change his approach. After shiatsu, he would use psychological skills to subconsciously guide her into a ditative state in a gentler way.
The effectiveness was still unknown, because imdiately after hypnotizing Justine, Jack received a strange phone call.
"Officer Tavelor?"
A young woman's voice ca through the phone.
"Hello, who is this?" Jack hadn't seen the unfamiliar number before and asked politely.
"Your girl is in my hands. et at Rose Cetery in an hour. Don't tell anyone. Co alone." The call was imdiately disconnected.
Jack's heart skipped a beat. His first thought was that sothing had gone wrong with the Anderson family, and soone was targeting Zoe again.
Then he felt that was unlikely. His relationship with Zoe and Maureen was well-kept secret, and his publicly known girlfriend, Hannah, was in Quantico. What kind of person could kidnap soone from FBI headquarters?
After a mont's thought, Jack ran into the garage and rummaged through the glove compartnt of his Chevrolet. He found a business card — the one Zoe had tossed in before their last encounter.
The phone number on it, Tyler's, matched the unknown number.
Tyler had been kidnapped, and Rosalind even had a follower outside. So her previous breakdown was just an act.
'Damn it, you can't believe the plot! This is so illogical!'
"Need help?" Chris asked, noticing Jack's terrible expression.
"No need, just take care of Justine. This isn't your job."
Jack sped to the police station, making several calls along the way. As soon as he parked in the station parking lot, Tim was already waiting there with the FBI tablet.
"Hey, Jack, this is from David Rossi."
Jack took the tablet, checking the tracking signal while quickly explaining the situation.
"Rosalind has another admirer outside. He kidnapped Channel 8 news anchor Tyler, trying to lure to Rose Cetery. Luckily, I gave Tyler a tracker. I'm going to rescue her now. You go and et that guy for ."
"If you can." Jack made a slight gesture with his index finger across his throat.
Tim didn't speak, just nodded to indicate he understood.
Jack grabbed the tablet and got into the police car. Just as he was about to start driving, Angela opened the passenger door and got in.
"What, trying to abandon your partner?"
Jack, feeling grateful, forced a smile and handed her the tablet. "Thanks, partner. You can give directions now; we don't have much ti."
The tablet showed the last location of the GPS signal was a private farm in Kern County, about 60 kiloters away. The signal disappeared at 12:25 PM, ten minutes before the kidnappers called Jack using Tyler's phone.
If the kidnappers' thods were the sa as Caleb White's, the signal loss was most likely because Tyler had been put in an oil drum, the Faraday cage effect causing signal blockage.
Jack didn't know how long it would take for soone locked in an oil drum to suffocate, but the thought of the bloodstained oil drum with scratches on its inner walls that he had seen at the old zoo filled him with anxiety.
Sirens wailed as Jack's police car sped onto the highway, never slowing down. The command center had coordinated with the highway patrol to open a fast lane for him.
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