Reacher got into the police car's front passenger seat, and Jack climbed into the back, enduring Roscoe's glare.
"So, why did you release that guy Paul who turned himself in?" Jack asked.
"Everyone knows Paul Herborg was lying. When we arrested him yesterday, he couldn't even explain how the victim died, so we decided not to prosecute him."
"Hopefully, his nervousness will make him do something stupid that gives us a clue, or maybe he'll crack and confess why he did it."
Roscoe might have sensed something unusual about Jack's identity, as she didn't hide much.
"Sounds like a smart move, Officer Roscoe." Reacher's attitude towards female officers was completely different, even flattering her a bit.
Roscoe's cheeks flushed slightly. "Roscoe is my first name. My last name is Conklin. What happened to your face, got beat up in jail?"
"You should see the guys I beat up. They didn't just get a scratch on their foreheads."
Indeed, boasting in front of a pretty girl is every man's innate talent. Jack, in the back seat, rolled his eyes. Even counting the big black guy, this big guy only took down four people, while he took down five at once.
Roscoe drove the two back to the police station. Jack privately asked Detective Finley for his gun and car keys. In the parking lot, Finley and Reacher had another argument.
It was unclear if Reacher truly wanted to leave this problematic small town or was just angry at Finley for sending him to jail. He said nothing about what he got from Paul Herborg, leaving the black detective furious yet helpless.
"Alright, leave him to me. I promise you, in no more than three days, he'll beg you to join the investigation."
Jack pulled Finley aside, and Roscoe pulled Reacher away.
"Including you?" Finley persisted.
Jack's eyes widened. This old black detective wasn't great at solving cases but was good at gathering allies.
"Yes, yes, including me. We'll work together, okay?"
Though he sounded like he was coaxing a child, Finley perked up, excitedly saying, "I knew it. I knew it was all connected. The IRS people wouldn't..."
Jack grabbed his collar, cutting him off, regretting not letting Reacher beat him up earlier.
"Keep your voice down. Do you want to die? Do you know how many people will die if my identity is exposed? Forget it, never mind."
"You haven't told anyone about my identity, right?"
Finley shook his head vigorously, not really angry. "I'm not the idiot you think I am. Even when verifying your identity, I only confirmed it with an old partner in Boston without mentioning anything about Margrave."
"Good. Keep that clear thinking. Keep all your guesses to yourself. If any innocent person dies, it will be on your head."
Jack's eyes warned sharply.
Though Jack's words had a hint of psychological manipulation, the Kleiner Foundation people were indeed ruthless. The threats Paul Herborg's boss made were not just empty words.
---
Jack felt out of place as Roscoe took Reacher shopping for clothes. They chatted happily, discussing everything from Reacher's experiences after retirement to family, while Jack stood there like a third wheel.
Especially when Roscoe saw Reacher's muscles while trying on clothes, she seemed quite impressed. Clearly, women could be just as appreciative of a good physique as men.
"The town has a barbershop. Mr. Mosley, the barber, is excellent. My foster father used to visit him weekly. It's right in the town square. Easy to find. See you tonight."
After buying clothes and dropping them off at the town's only inn, Roscoe arranged to meet Reacher for dinner and continued her patrol.
Jack and Reacher each got a room, took a comfortable shower, and then went out for a walk. After a day here, they hadn't really seen the town.
From the outside, Margrave seemed like a pretty nice town, with newly painted lookouts, well-maintained flower beds, and even the bronze statue in the town square shining brightly.
"This town is impressive, maybe the prettiest southern town I've seen."
Actually, Jack wanted to say it didn't even look like it was in the USA. Since his crossing, it was the first time he had seen such a clean street.
After cutting Jack's hair and while shaving Reacher, the old black barber Mr. Mosley let out a meaningful hum.
"Yes, the Kleiner Foundation has taken good care of Margrave. Since Mr. Kleiner moved his company here from Texas over ten years ago, the place has transformed."
Jack calculated the timing. It matched when Hannah's family had their incident.
"So, what exactly does Kleiner do?"
"Real estate, logistics, chemicals, mechanical processing, you name it. See that statue outside?"
Mr. Mosley pointed to the bronze statue in the square. "That's Caspar Tiller. His grandson is our mayor."
"Kleiner wanted to build a factory, and Tiller sold him a piece of land cheaply. This statue is Kleiner's reward. A win-win, right?"
Jack chuckled. The old man's humor was refreshing.
Just then, a brand-new Ford Raptor F450 pulled up next to the statue. Two young men got out, leaning against the truck, eyes provocatively staring into the shop.
"That's Kleiner's son, Little Kleiner, and his crazy cousin Dawson. Everyone calls him 'KJ,' but I prefer 'troublemaker.'"
Mr. Mosley finished shaving Reacher, explaining the young men while preparing a hot towel.
"They're here for you?" Reacher looked at Jack waiting.
"I didn't flirt with the town's prettiest cop." Jack teased, "When you come to a new place, getting close to the local pretty girls is the easiest way to make enemies, right?"
"Save my spot, will you?" Reacher handed the towel back to Mr. Mosley, got up, and headed across the street.
Mr. Mosley smiled, "So, Roscoe has her eye on him, not you?"
"Oh? That cop has a fiery temper? Didn't notice before." Jack's curiosity was piqued.
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