Reacher's eyes were filled with confusion as he frowned and stared at Jack for a long time, as if trying to figure out where his deduction had gone wrong.
The female officer reached out her hand, signaling the two to return their cups after finishing their coffee. "It's interesting that you're both named Jack."
Jack stood up again, handed over his ceramic cup, and turned around, extending his hand to Reacher in a friendly gesture. "Jack Tavoler."
Reacher, still frowning, shook hands while scrutinizing him. "Jack Reacher."
At this moment, Finley hurriedly walked out of the office and called to the female officer. "Roscoe, we need to leave immediately. We've traced that phone number."
"Looks like we'll be spending some time together. Maybe we can chat about how to distinguish ourselves, or we could give each other nicknames?" Jack suggested with a smile.
"You can be Little Jack," Reacher said, looking down at him.
"We still don't know who's older," Jack responded, also looking down, though at Reacher's other head.
The two fell silent again.
Less than an hour later, Officer Roscoe and Finley returned, escorting a well-dressed white man in designer casual clothes into the police station.
"Get in," Finley opened the cell door and motioned for the white man to enter.
The man looked at Reacher as if seeing a monster. Jack scooted over a bit, allowing the man to cautiously slide along the wall and sit next to Jack.
"Hey, Reacher, come with me," Finley gestured for Reacher to step out.
"No," Reacher remained seated, unmoving.
Finley widened his eyes. "Excuse me, what did you say?"
"Unless you unbind me first. You all know I'm not the killer, and this thing is very uncomfortable," Reacher replied.
Finley, exasperated, told Roscoe, "Go get a letter opener."
"No need," Reacher stood up, using his thick arm to easily snap the plastic tie on his wrist. He smiled and picked it up. "Do you have a recycling bin?"
Jack, observing the standard handcuffs on his wrists, fell into deep thought. Would it scare people if he did the same?
"You shouldn't have done that. Next time, they'll know to tie you up more," Jack suggested sincerely as Reacher walked out of the holding cell.
"No need, I have larger handcuffs in my safe," Finley replied, closing the iron door behind him and leading Reacher into his office.
At first, it was quiet inside, but soon the two started arguing loudly. Finley opened his office door and yelled, "Stevenson, get to my office."
The young officer, who had been restless since seeing the well-dressed white man brought in, entered Finley's office with his head down.
Less than five minutes later, he came out, his face pale, and the argument inside the office grew louder.
Finally, Finley stormed out, saying, "You can see I just quit smoking, but you don't know what I'm doing?"
Reacher, equally frustrated, followed him, pressing, "You're out of line. Someone confessed, and I helped you."
"You helped me?" Finley pointed a finger at him. "You seem confused. Your shabby appearance, unemployed status, and vagrant lifestyle all indicate you're no longer a cop. Chief Morrison wants you detained until we can confirm you were indeed on the bus at the time of the incident."
He turned to Roscoe and ordered, "Notify the county jail to transfer these three. They'll be temporarily held until we solve the case."
This time, Reacher was put in larger handcuffs, receiving the same treatment as the other two.
After a long wait, a prison bus arrived at the station. Before being taken out, Reacher told Roscoe, "Take his watch."
He was referring to the new white man. Jack added, "And his ring, or it will be stolen within five minutes in prison."
Roscoe gave the two a surprised look.
"It was nice chatting with you earlier," Reacher earnestly thanked Roscoe. The female officer removed the man's watch and ring, looking at Reacher with a complex expression.
Jack rolled his eyes internally. These two might as well get married on the spot. No wonder they're the main characters; they hit it off so quickly.
The empty prison bus had only three passengers. Jack watched the sunset, feeling melancholy. He had sacrificed so much to help Hannah get revenge.
If he were still an ordinary person, entering an American prison like this out of the blue might really end badly.
"Thank you... for reminding them about the watch and ring. My name is Paul Herberg," the white man finally mustered the courage to stutter his thanks.
"Shut up, you ruined my journey," Reacher glared at him, making his courage evaporate instantly.
"So, why were you arrested?" Jack patted Paul's shoulder from the back seat.
"Detective Finley found me. He said they found a phone number in a shoe on a corpse, and it was mine. So I confessed to being the killer," Paul whispered.
"So, did you actually kill anyone?" Jack asked knowingly. This guy looked like a weakling, with thighs no thicker than Reacher's arms.
"No, you wouldn't understand. If I didn't confess, I would be dead," Paul sobbed.
Jack didn't press further. Confirming this guy was the key witness was enough. Next, they just needed another event to unite the main characters and crack the case.
When the prison bus entered the jail, it was already dark. A scruffy old warden was waiting outside, watching the three disembark in turn.
"I'm Officer Spawe. Follow the yellow line. You'll be held in isolation cells until they arrange for your weekend hearing."
After changing into prison uniforms, the three were taken to an empty four-person cell, and the night passed without incident.
In the morning, after a bell rang, the cell's electromagnetic lock automatically opened. Jack opened his eyes and saw Reacher, who had been sleeping on the top bunk, jump down and walk out of the cell.
Paul, squatting in a corner, looked distressed, clearly having not slept all night. Jack patted his shoulder and followed him out.
The corridor outside the cell was bustling, with someone playing rap music. Jack looked around and saw the other inmates were all gang members with tattoos on their arms.
He exchanged a glance with Reacher, and they quickly retreated back into the cell.
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