Chapter 96: The Girl in Your Hands

Jack's lips curled into a mocking smile as he lifted the evidence bag, flaunting its contents.

"Sorry, but look at what I found. This is Caleb White's diary. Your admirer here wasn't exactly a saint. He's documented every case you discussed with him—every murder, every burial site, all your secrets."

"So, no more deals, and there won't be any police escorts taking you on scenic mountain hikes. If I were you, I'd find some other hobbies. You're going to have a lot of time to enjoy alone."

Rosalind finally snapped. Her face twisted with rage as she screamed at Jack, "You're dead! I will find a way out, I swear. And when you fall into my hands, you will suffer beyond measure, groveling at my feet like a worm, begging with your tongue on my toes for a quick death!"

"You're too old!" Jack threw out the strange remark as he left the room, signaling the guards behind him to take her away.

Jack wasn't worried about provoking terrorists—they could strike from a distance with snipers or bombs, something he couldn't handle right now. But he had no qualms about bullying a weak serial killer who only preyed on the vulnerable.

If this old woman somehow managed to escape and come after him, Jack wouldn't mind adding a few pounds to her body weight in an instant.

The next morning, Jack was woken up by a call from Christian Wolf, also known as the Accountant. Jack's sleep had become increasingly short, and sleeping in was now just a way to adjust his mood.

After witnessing the horrific conditions of the victims from the previous day's case, he needed the rest to cope with the mental toll.

Having finished his morning routine and tidied up the guest room, Jack saw Christian pull up in a Ford Raptor with a trailer in tow. It barely fit into the backyard, crushing a part of his vegetable garden, much to Jack's dismay.

The guest room was prepared for Justin. It took Christian a good while to coax her out of the car, and Jack, seeing no other option, went out to buy a baby monitor to place in the room.

This way, even if Christian slept in his RV, he could keep an ear on her. Justin's issues were much more severe, and Jack doubted she would be able to interact normally with people anytime soon.

Unlike Christian, who could blend in despite his condition, Jack wasn't confident Justin could ever live independently.

Still, this small progress was a miracle for Christian and Justin's father. Previously, even with Christian's firsthand accounts, it took a lot to convince Justin's father, Professor Hubble, to let Jack take her to LA.

Professor Hubble, who had established a clinic and research institute for his daughter suffering from Asperger's syndrome, believed Jack was some sort of Eastern sorcerer, using mystic arts since science couldn't explain what he saw in Christian.

Jack's approach to treating Justin had to differ from Christian's. Justin couldn't handle any kind of stimulation and had never left her small room at the research institute in over thirty years.

So, Jack opted for a gentler method. After using acupuncture (healing technique), he employed psychological skills to infuse suggestions into her subconscious, guiding her into a meditative state.

The results were still unknown. Right after hypnotizing Justin, Jack received a strange call.

"Is this Officer Taver?"

The voice on the phone belonged to a young woman.

"Hello, who is this?" Jack hadn't seen the unfamiliar number before and asked politely.

"I have your girl. Meet me at Rose Cemetery in an hour. Tell no one and come alone." The call ended abruptly.

Jack's heart sank. His first thought was that something had happened to the Anderson family and someone had targeted Zoey again.

But then, he doubted it. His relationships with Zoey and Maureen were kept well under wraps, and his official girlfriend, Hannah, was in Quantico. Who could kidnap someone from the FBI headquarters?

After a brief moment of consideration, Jack ran to the garage and retrieved a business card from the glove compartment of his Chevy. The card was one Zoey had tossed in there after their last encounter, and it had Taylor's phone number, which matched the unfamiliar number.

Taylor had been kidnapped. Rosalind had an accomplice outside, and her previous breakdown had all been an act.

Damn, you can't trust the plot; it's gone completely off the rails.

"Need help?" Christian asked, noticing Jack's grim expression.

"No, just take care of Justin. This isn't something you should get involved in."

Jack quickly drove to the police station, making several calls along the way. As soon as he parked, Tim was already there, holding an FBI-issued tablet.

"Hey, Jack, David Rossi wanted me to give this to you."

Jack took the tablet and quickly explained the situation while tracking the locator signal.

"Rosalind has an admirer outside who kidnapped Channel 8 news anchor Taylor, luring me to Rose Cemetery. Fortunately, I gave Taylor a locator. I'm going to rescue her. You go and handle the guy."

"If you can." Jack ran his finger across his throat in a slicing motion.

Tim nodded, understanding.

Jack grabbed the tablet and jumped into a police car, ready to go. Just as he was about to start, Angela opened the passenger door and got in.

"What, trying to ditch your partner?"

Jack felt grateful and forced a smile, handing her the tablet. "Thanks, partner. You navigate. We don't have much time."

The last GPS signal from Taylor's device showed she was at a private farm in Kern County, about 60 kilometers away. The signal had vanished at 12:25 PM, right before the kidnapper called Jack.

If the kidnapper's methods were like Caleb White's, the signal likely disappeared because Taylor had been placed in an oil drum, creating a Faraday cage effect that blocked the signal.

Jack didn't know how long someone could survive in an oil drum without suffocating, but the memory of the bloodied, scratched-up barrel he had seen at the old zoo filled him with anxiety.

The sirens wailed as Jack sped down the highway, pushing the police car to over 160 KMH. The command center had already coordinated with the highway patrol to clear a fast lane for him.

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