At the same time, Jack found himself reflecting deeply. The skills and attributes provided by the system had indeed pushed him beyond ordinary human limits. The attention from the women around him, the admiration from his colleagues at the police station, and even the recruitment offers from the IRS and the FBI all confirmed his growing strength.
But somewhere along the line, he had started to drift away from his former cautious self—the one who held a deep respect for the world and approached it with humility. In the IRS case, where the undercover agent nearly died because he was fooled by a nurse's stellar performance, it was understandable—her acting had been superb.
However, deliberately provoking Rosalind and arrogantly assuming he was immune to her retaliation? That was nothing but self-importance and stupidity.
This world wasn't an RPG where he could rely on a guide to navigate through to victory. The people he interacted with, whether friends or criminals, were living, breathing individuals with their own thoughts and souls—not scripted characters following a predetermined path.
Even if he was confident in his ability to handle threats, he should have considered the safety of those around him. Though his relationship with Taylor wasn't deep, if she had died at the hands of Rosalind's follower, Jack would find it hard to convince himself that he bore no responsibility for the tragedy.
Fortunately, luck was on his side this time. The only tracking device he hadn't retrieved was still with Taylor. If things had played out as in the original plot, with Lucy being the one kidnapped, Jack couldn't begin to imagine the dire consequences.
At that moment, David Rossi's voice crackled through the radio.
"Jack, I just confirmed that the farm you're heading to is owned by a trust fund linked to Rosalind. Caleb White referred to it as a 'sanctuary' in his diary—it's the place where Rosalind killed her first victim."
"We've also identified the kidnapper. Beth Whiston, who happens to be Rosalind's defense attorney."
"According to the TV station staff, Beth Whiston arranged to meet Taylor last night and drove her away after her shift."
"You mean the 'upstanding' lawyer Delmonte spoke so highly of?" Angela's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Rosalind is like a plague, spreading her twisted ideology to everyone she touches."
"Uh," Rossi was momentarily at a loss for words but then corrected himself. "I prefer to call it a mutual attraction between deviants. Delmonte just admitted that Beth Whiston insisted on representing Rosalind. Like Caleb White, she was drawn to her idol by choice."
"Anyway, Delmonte better brace himself for Judge Kelly's wrath—Taylor's father won't be taking this lightly."
Jack swung the steering wheel hard, making the police car screech as it drifted onto a narrow path.
"We're three minutes away. How long until backup arrives? The GPS signal's been gone for over 40 minutes; we need all the manpower we can get for a search."
Captain Gray's voice came over the radio.
"John and his team are right behind you, and more support will arrive in about 10 minutes. Additionally, I've called in two helicopters. They should be over your heads in about five minutes to assist with the search."
With a long screech of the brakes, Jack brought the car to a stop and jumped out, eager to move. The farm wasn't large, with only a single flat building, the very place where Taylor's tracker signal had vanished.
"Jack," Rossi called out again.
"The tracker emits a low-frequency signal that might still be detectable, but its range will be very small."
"Got it."
Jack turned to Angela. "I'll go through the front; you circle around to the back. Be careful not to shoot the wrong person."
Angela nodded and jogged to the back of the building, gun in hand.
Time was of the essence, and Jack couldn't afford to worry about the potential danger of more of Rosalind's accomplices lurking around. Holding the tablet in one hand and his gun in the other, he kicked down doors as he advanced, relying on his heightened senses to detect any movement inside the rooms. However, when he and Angela met in the storage room at the end, they found nothing but empty space.
The storage room contained only three empty oil drums and Taylor's abandoned Louis Vuitton purse lying on the floor.
The two exchanged bewildered looks as Jack checked the tablet again, finding no signal.
Just then, John and a squad of officers arrived, surrounding the building.
"Could there be a basement or cellar?" Angela suggested.
John shook his head. "I checked outside. There's no ventilation, and it doesn't look like there's a basement. No cellar entrances around, either."
Jack stood at the door, staring at a set of tire tracks leading off into the distance, deep in thought.
The radio crackled to life again, this time with Tim's voice.
"Beth Whiston resisted arrest and was shot dead. I found a video on her phone that seems intended for you. Sending it over now."
Jack pulled out his phone and watched the video Tim sent. It showed Taylor being forced at gunpoint into an oil drum buried in the ground. The drum's lid was then sealed, and shovelfuls of dirt covered it.
"She's buried underground. Get in the car and follow those tire tracks."
Jack signaled for everyone to follow and jumped back into the police car. He followed the tracks until Angela, clutching the tablet, suddenly exclaimed, "We have a signal! It's at three o'clock."
They were on a small hill. Jack leaped out of the car, and his heightened senses quickly detected freshly disturbed soil nearby.
"Over there!"
The group rushed over, some with shovels, others using their hands to dig frantically. Soon, a circular metal lid was exposed.
Jack grabbed John's foldable shovel and pried the lid open in one swift motion, reaching inside to pull out an unconscious Taylor.
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### Divider ---
"That was my first kiss." On the hospital bed, Taylor showed no signs of post-trauma shock. Instead, she wore a playful, extortionist expression.
"That was CPR. If I hadn't done it, you'd be dead!" Jack rubbed his temples, exasperated. After rescuing Taylor, he had used a healing technique on her. However, to maintain appearances, he had also performed a couple of rounds of CPR. He hadn't expected her to come out with such a comment.
A nearly thirty-year-old American woman playing coy like this? The whole scene felt absurdly out of place, as if it belonged in some old-school martial arts harem novel.
"We're devout Catholics. My father would kill me if he found out."
Taylor's eyes glistened as if she were about to cry.
"Your first kiss was stolen by Hannah at your high school prom when you pulled a stunt to steal her crown."
Jack shot back without mercy. Hannah had shared this little story between them long ago, spilling all the details during their daily video chats.
"Okay, no more jokes. But I do want to thank you again. I was terrified, but I knew you'd come to save me."
With that, Taylor pulled out the black circular tracking device. "Can I keep this as a memento?"
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