Chapter 160: Surrender?

Just as the big guy was about to step into the diner, a couple who had just paid their bill pushed the door open and brushed past him. Immediately, the man rudely shoved the woman against a car, angrily yelling at her.

Inside the diner, Jack could barely make out the conversation. It seemed the man was furious over the woman tipping too much, and she was apologizing frantically in fear.

Reacher stopped in his tracks, expressionless, silently staring at the raging man. Jack leisurely lifted his coffee cup with a slight smile, ready for the show.

But in the next second, he realized his cup was empty. He frowned, feeling this place was out to get him, as his mastermind image always seemed to falter after mere moments.

He waved at the elderly waitress, leaving a 50% tip on his tray, and walked out of the diner.

By now, the man had just let out a defiant roar at Reacher, but as he approached him, he seemed to suddenly calm down or perhaps finally realized the vast difference in their sizes. He froze.

Reacher continued to stare silently, creating a tense atmosphere that seemed to freeze the air between them. The man gulped nervously.

"Listen, buddy, I was just having a bad day. It won't happen again."

With that, he hastily turned, opened the car door for his girlfriend, and drove away quickly.

Jack walked over to Reacher. Just then, the big guy, a head taller than Jack, turned toward the diner, and they made eye contact.

Jack greeted him warmly, "The peach pie here is pretty good, worth a try."

Reacher didn't speak but nodded with a smile and strode into the diner.

Jack got into his car, checked the location of the local police station, and had barely driven for a minute when two police cars, sirens blaring, zoomed past, heading toward the diner.

He sped up slightly, aiming to reach the station before Reacher was taken there.

"Hello, officer. Is there a detective here from Boston? I'd like to see him."

Jack flashed a business-like smile at the neat-looking female officer, who looked momentarily dazed before snapping out of it and pointing to a makeshift office behind her, raising her voice slightly.

"Detective Finlay, someone's here to see you."

A thin, bespectacled African-American man in his forties, wearing a wool suit, opened the door. He looked puzzled as he turned toward Jack.

"Ah, dear cousin, long time no see. I've missed you so much."

Jack quickly moved forward, giving the bewildered man a hug and whispering in his ear, "IRS investigator. Can we talk privately?"

Detective Finlay was taken aback but quickly composed himself. "Let's step outside."

Feigning the joy of reuniting with an old friend, he smiled and walked out with Jack. Behind them, the female officer murmured in confusion.

"Why does Detective Finlay have a white cousin?"

Finlay led Jack around two corners to a vacant lot behind the station, frowning at him.

"Sorry, but I need to verify your identity. Why would the IRS be in our little town, and why are you looking for me?"

"Call this number. With your connections in Boston, you should easily verify its authenticity."

Jack handed him a small piece of paper with a number on it. It was Ray King's number, a senior IRS officer. Jack had spent nearly an hour discussing things with him on his way to Margrave.

He had explained what he knew about the criminal group controlling the town, why he, Hannah, and the Wolf brothers were there, and had promised to notify the IRS at the right time. Ray had readily given Jack a temporary investigator's identity.

Not only the Secret Service handles counterfeit cases; the IRS, under the Treasury Department, also has jurisdiction. Now that they had the information, they could quietly build a case and claim credit when the time came. Joey Reacher, lying in the ICU, probably wouldn't mind.

"I know you have many questions, but I can only answer one: why I'm looking for you. Although you transferred to this town voluntarily, it was to escape your previous environment. You haven't been here long and are not entangled with local affairs."

Though Jack knew from the storyline that Finlay was a member of the righteous main group, without any concrete evidence, he couldn't prove it. Using his IRS identity, he aimed to become part of the main group, helping them uncover the town's secrets.

Finlay hesitated for a moment, then looked seriously at Jack, seemingly pondering the information. After a long pause, he spoke.

"You seem to know a lot about me?"

"Not at all, but I believe we'll get to know each other soon."

Jack was honest. He barely remembered Finlay from the show, just that he was a lovesick character who had transferred from Boston after his wife's death, feeling guilty for neglecting her due to work. He sought self-punishment by moving to this small town. That was about it.

Who would be interested in deeply understanding a middle-aged black guy? If he had time for a rewatch, he would have paid more attention to the scenes featuring the neat female officer—maybe for about three minutes, no more.

"So, what do you need me to do?" Finlay asked.

Jack glanced at his phone for the time. "In a few minutes, your officers will bring in a suspect. No matter how, let me stay with him, even if it means being locked up together. Don't expose my identity or alert your colleagues."

Finlay gave him a long, puzzled look.

"You know I ordered his arrest for a murder case, right?"

Jack nodded, urging, "I promise you'll solve this murder. Hurry, your officers should be back soon."

"OK, then please cooperate."

Finlay decisively pulled out handcuffs and moved behind Jack.

"Wait, what's the charge to put me in?" Jack asked.

Finlay thought for half a second, "Wanted for fraud, coming to seek refuge with his cousin?"

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