"This is an urgent CID case," Alice began, pulling up the details on the screen. "Gabriel Clarke, 27 years old, a police officer from Morris Township, New Jersey. Last night, he walked into a diner and shot two New Jersey state troopers and the fiancée of one of them."
As Alice spoke, a photo of a strikingly handsome young man appeared on the screen, accompanied by detailed data: height, weight, place of birth, hair color, eye color, and more.
Jack froze for a moment, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over him. He set his plate down and took the freshly printed report from JJ, scrutinizing the photo carefully. It hit him like a bolt of lightning—Gabriel Clarke looked eerily familiar.
"This guy looks like a low-budget Keanu Reeves," Jack remarked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Except the nose isn't as big, and his face isn't as long."
"Does he have a dog?" Jack asked suddenly, his brow furrowed.
"Uh, what?" Alice blinked, caught off guard. She shuffled through the file. "It doesn't say… Is that important?"
"Forget it." Jack waved it off. Gabriel didn't match the name or age, and he wasn't married, so it was unlikely he had any connection to John Wick.
This world didn't have anything as elaborate as the Continental Hotel or underground assassin networks—at least not on a scale significant enough to warrant FBI attention. Otherwise, Jack would have been briefed by Rossi when he first arrived in New York.
While Jack's opinion of The Matrix was lukewarm in his previous life, he had enjoyed Keanu Reeves' John Wick and Constantine. Meeting Erin Reagan in this world had even prompted him to visit 175 Fifth Avenue—the so-called Flatiron Building—out of curiosity. But instead of the fictional Continental, he found a swanky apartment complex with no restaurant in sight.
Jack's musings were interrupted as Alice displayed a crime scene photo: a classic street-corner diner with large glass windows. Inside, three victims lay slumped at a booth near the window, their bodies motionless.
"Witnesses reported that Gabriel was wearing his police uniform. He walked into the diner, approached the state troopers, and shot them execution-style. Not a single word was exchanged," Alice explained.
"All three were shot in the head, each with one precise bullet. Afterward, Gabriel calmly walked out as if nothing had happened."
Jubal leaned back in his chair, a cup of lemon water in hand, his expression thoughtful. "Cold-blooded execution, no attempt to hide his identity… Did Gabriel have any personal grievances with the victims?"
Alice shook her head. "None that we know of. At least, nothing in the initial reports from the local police. I'll dig deeper. For now, we only have basic information on Gabriel—he lived alone, has never been married, and has no children."
At that moment, Clay—who had been on his way out—hovered in the doorway, clearly torn. "Who was shot first?" he asked abruptly.
"Aren't you supposed to be at home with Stella?" Alice shot back, smirking.
"Well… this case seems serious… and I thought maybe…" Clay stammered, his face reddening as his voice trailed off.
"Men…" Alice rolled her eyes, unimpressed. JJ and Hannah chuckled quietly from their desks.
Caring for a newborn was exhausting work. After the initial joy of welcoming a new life, Clay and Stella were learning the hard way about sleepless nights and endless diaper changes.
"Ten days. Ten whole days without a proper night's sleep," Clay groaned, pointing to the dark circles under his eyes. "If it weren't for Jack bringing in María, Stella and I might've already lost it. I never imagined a baby could be harder to handle than a terrorist with an AK-47."
"Once Baby Brian learns to crawl and smiles at you while hugging your leg, you'll realize it's all worth it," JJ reassured him with a knowing smile. She often doted on the babies in the Wolfe and Hotchner families whenever she visited Los Angeles.
Hannah grinned mischievously. "He's already adorable. Every time I hold him, he smiles at me—just as long as I don't have to change his diaper."
Jubal, the most experienced parent in the group, raised three fingers solemnly. "Three days. That's all you get. Even if we're not done with the case, you're going back to help Stella with the diapers."
Clay lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "I swear," he promised, raising his hand dramatically.
Alice turned to Jack. "If I'm not needed in the field for this one, I can work remotely at Clay's house and help Stella during the day."
Jack grinned. "Perfect. At least this way, if Stella's upset, she won't blame the entire team."
After the laughter subsided, Alice refocused the conversation by displaying a diagram on the screen. "According to witnesses, the first victim was Tyler Kubiak, followed by his fiancée, and lastly the other state trooper. Does the order matter?"
"Absolutely," Clay said, mimicking a finger-gun gesture. "If it were me, I'd shoot the nearest trooper first. But Tyler Kubiak was the farthest from Gabriel and still the first to die. That suggests Kubiak and his fiancée were the primary targets, while the other trooper was collateral damage."
Jubal nodded. "Let's start by digging into Kubiak's background, then his fiancée's."
"Did the state police provide any leads?" JJ flipped through the thin file in front of her. "Gabriel wore his uniform and made no attempt to hide his identity. Could this have been a jurisdictional feud that escalated into something personal?"
Much like the friction between the FBI and local law enforcement, rivalries between town and state police were common. As Jack often quipped, NYPD was practically the city's largest gang. "This is my turf" was a common refrain among police chiefs.
Alice hesitated. "I don't think Gabriel felt any strong allegiance to the Morris Township PD. He trained with the Newark PD two years ago but didn't pass his probationary period. He was later transferred to Morris Township."
"Going from a major city to a small-town police department must've been a blow to his ego," JJ speculated. "Could that have triggered a mental breakdown?"
Jack's eyes narrowed. "Or maybe it's something deeper. Either way, we need answers—fast."
(End of Chapter)
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