Jack suppressed his excitement at meeting his childhood idol, showing a shy smile. "Hello, Mrs. Dee Dee McCall, I'm Jack Tavole."
To his surprise, Dee Dee McCall reached out and hugged him. "Hello, handsome young man. We're so glad you could come."
Upon entering the house, they didn't see the person they had been eagerly anticipating. Noticing their confusion, Dee Dee McCall sighed. "Rick had a stroke two months ago. He's paralyzed on his right side and his recovery has been slow."
Both of them felt a pang of concern. Jack quickly asked, "Can we see him?"
Dee Dee McCall nodded. "Of course, he'd love that. He hasn't been out of the house for half a month. Knowing that two young officers were coming to visit cheered him up. We don't have children, so we rarely have young visitors."
She led them to a bedroom on the first floor. Inside, an elderly man with a gaunt frame and a head full of silver hair smiled at them. Despite his frail condition, the man's eyes still held a hint of the resolute spirit that had defined Detective Hunter.
"Mr. Hunter, I'm Jack Tavole. It's an honor to meet you. I've admired your work for a long time." Despite his efforts to stay calm, Jack's voice trembled, betraying his emotions.
Although Rick Hunter was half-paralyzed, his mind was clear. The stubborn old man extended his left hand, which could still move, to shake Jack's hand. Seeing the young man's excitement, Hunter looked puzzled. "Nathan Tavole and Fanny Tavole, are they related to you?"
Jack was taken aback. Did Detective Hunter know his parents? Considering that Hunter had served in LA for over thirty years, it was possible. Throwing away his prepared speech, he decided to be honest, his voice still shaking. "They are my parents. Do you remember them?"
"Of course, Nathan and Fanny were old friends of mine. Back when I was still on the streets, I used to stop by their little shop on Saturn Street for some Cerisian snacks. You must not have been born yet. How are they now?"
Jack felt a pang of sadness and adopted a sorrowful expression. "There was a fire three years ago. I survived, but they didn't."
"Oh, you poor child," Dee Dee McCall, now teary-eyed, hugged Jack.
Rick Hunter looked remorseful. "I'm so sorry, son. I didn't know..."
"It's alright. It's all in the past. My father often spoke about you, which inspired me to join the LAPD." Jack, now in actor mode, comforted the elderly couple and continued with his story.
Hannah, who had been listening, suddenly realized why Jack had insisted on visiting these two seniors. She hadn't known about this incredible coincidence.
Listening to Rick Hunter recounting the past, Jack felt lucky. It turned out that over thirty years ago, when Hunter was still a patrol officer, he had once helped chase away some troublemakers from their small grocery store, which led to a casual acquaintance with Jack's parents. Over time, and due to Hunter's busy career as a detective, they had lost touch.
"It was your parents' elopement story that gave me the courage to propose to Dee Dee," Rick Hunter said wistfully.
Jack felt relieved by this unexpected connection and smoothly established a relationship with the Hunter couple. He elaborated that his parents were grateful people who often read newspaper stories about Hunter's heroic deeds and told them to their son. This inspired young Jack to become an LAPD officer. To reinforce his story, he vaguely described an old case from "Hunter," leading Rick and Dee Dee to vividly recall the details, much to Jack's delight.
Hannah played her part as well, adding details about how Jack had persevered through his hardships, continued his education, and graduated from the police academy with honors, becoming a promising young officer.
The result was that Jack gained new "aunt and uncle" figures, and he and Hannah were invited to stay for lunch, where they enjoyed Dee Dee's delicious stew.
After lunch, Jack helped move Hunter into his wheelchair, reflecting on how tough it must be for Dee Dee. She was under five foot seven, while Hunter was six foot six. No wonder his rehabilitation was difficult.
Wheeling Hunter to the front yard to enjoy some fresh air and sunlight, Jack tidied the lawn while chatting with his new uncle.
"Hannah said you've been a cop for less than two months and have already taken down two suspects?" Hunter, gently massaging his unresponsive right arm, asked skeptically.
"Yes, the first time was during my rookie training, dealing with a hostage situation. The second was stopping a drug dealer who was about to shoot Commander Gray," Jack replied, trimming the rose bushes.
"I thought LA in the '80s and '90s was dangerous enough. Every time I handled a case, I had to get a new car. Seems like things haven't improved much."
Jack nodded vigorously, thinking about how much he had enjoyed watching Hunter's car chases and crashes as a child, never realizing the expense involved.
"Hey kid, do you have a backup gun?" Hunter suddenly asked, then turned and shouted into the house. "Dee Dee, bring me the box from the safe."
Dee Dee returned with an elegant walnut box, placed it on Hunter's lap, and smiled. "Are you really going to part with your prized possession?"
Curious, Jack watched as Hunter struggled to open the box with his left hand. Inside lay a magnificent blued Colt Python.
"I can't use it anymore, so I might as well give it to a worthy young man. Out on the dangerous streets, you can't rely solely on a plastic gun. Sometimes, the old guns are more dependable."
Jack's issued Glock 22 had many polymer components, earning it the nickname "plastic gun" among veteran officers. In contrast, the Colt Python was a classic, widely used by American police officers in the '70s and '80s.
"It's an honor, sir," Jack said, touched by the gift.
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