The tall, lanky Black officer was named Hearn. Despite being only 25 or 26, he was a veteran with six or seven years of experience. Small-town police departments typically had lower hiring requirements than major cities; many recruits joined straight out of high school by attending police training programs.
When the FBI arrived at Gabriel Clark's residence in Morris Township, Officer Hearn was already waiting at the door.
Jubal took the keys from him and opened the door. The team stepped into a meticulously maintained home, its tidy setup catching everyone's attention. They all turned to look at Jack.
"Why are you all looking at me? This is just basic cleanliness," Jack said, already understanding their silent critique.
Unlike his American teammates—many of whom wouldn't bother taking off their shoes before climbing into bed—Jack was the type to tidy his room daily. He wouldn't leave dirty clothes lying around unless in "exceptional circumstances" (read: passionate moments). His kitchen? Always spotless after use.
Gabriel Clark's house took tidiness to another level. The floors were immaculate, and every item appeared precisely where it belonged, almost as if untouched.
Aubrey walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and exclaimed, "Damn! This fridge looks like it just came straight from the showroom. No leftovers, no moldy pizza, no soda, and no alcohol. Who lives like this?"
"The laundry room's the same," Hannah chimed in as she opened a wardrobe. "Not a single dirty sock in the laundry basket. This is the first time I've seen a single man cleaner than Jack."
"Does he have OCD?" Jubal asked Officer Hearn.
The young officer stroked his stubbly chin, deep in thought. "Uh... sorry, I've never really noticed. But Gabriel is always neat and well-dressed. He's the kind of guy who's always clean-shaven. I've never seen him with so much as a five o'clock shadow."
"It's not full-blown OCD—just mild perfectionism," Jack said as he ran his fingers over the top of the TV cabinet where a row of DVDs sat neatly lined up. His fingertip came away with a fine layer of dust.
At that moment, Aubrey's phone buzzed with a few notifications. Reading them aloud, he said, "Alice says Gabriel emptied his bank account two days ago—$3,000 in total. So, this was premeditated, huh?"
Hearing this, Clay perked up and immediately pulled Hearn aside, draping an arm around his shoulders. "Hey, buddy, let's talk about your partner."
The team exchanged knowing smiles. Clay had ostensibly joined this case to escape diaper duty at home, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. If the investigation stretched beyond three days, the thought of leaving his team mid-case might frustrate him even more than missing time with his newborn.
Meanwhile, JJ joined Jack by the DVD shelf and pulled out a few cases, reading the titles aloud: Shane, Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. "Looks like he's a fan of old-school Westerns. Clear lines between good and evil, heroes and villains. Maybe this reflects his personality to some extent."
Jack took a picture of the DVD titles with his phone and then picked up a brass belt buckle from the top of the wardrobe. He murmured as he read the Latin inscription engraved on it: Veritas Ante Omnia.
"'Truth Above All'?" Aubrey scratched his head, unable to recall which famous figure might've said that.
"Maybe it's his personal motto," Jack said, slipping the well-polished buckle into an evidence bag.
These seemingly inconsequential details, like the DVDs and the buckle, were puzzle pieces. They might offer a glimpse into Gabriel's true character once enough pieces were collected.
"Hey, guys! You might want to check this out," Hannah called from outside, where she had just opened the garage door.
Clay was still on the lawn, chatting with Hearn, while a small group of curious neighbors gathered on the sidewalk, craning their necks to see what was happening.
"Is that... a crib? I thought Gabriel was single," Jubal said as he joined the rest of the team outside. The open garage door revealed a brand-new baby crib sitting inside.
"Officer Hearn, do you know anything about this?" Jubal gestured toward the crib.
"Sorry, I don't. Gabriel did mention having a girlfriend in Newark, but I didn't take it seriously. He never told me her name or showed me her picture."
Hearn remained frustratingly clueless, but Clay's earlier conversation had uncovered at least one lead. "Hearn mentioned that Gabriel has six civil complaints on his record."
"Yes, that's true," Hearn confirmed. "He wrote a lot of traffic tickets—he didn't show any leniency. Even if your car was on fire, he'd still write you a ticket before taking you to the hospital."
"Excuse me! Over here!"
The interruption came from a young Indian man waving his hand energetically from the gathered crowd.
"That crib is ours! I live across the street!"
"Let him through," Jubal gestured to an officer maintaining the perimeter.
As the man approached, he began explaining rapidly. "Gabby—uh, Gabriel—was helping me assemble it. Just yesterday! I can't believe he finished it by himself."
Clay squinted, trying to make sense of the man's rapid, heavily accented speech. "Slow down. What exactly happened?"
"Well, my wife suddenly had a craving for Vietnamese pho," the man said, shaking his head. "You know how pregnant women are—they get these sudden cravings. So I had to leave halfway through. Gabriel must've spent hours finishing it on his own. What a guy!"
His heavily accented English made everyone furrow their brows in concentration, trying to piece together what he was saying.
Jack raised an eyebrow, wondering if they'd stumbled onto something unexpected. Hands on his hips, he asked, "It sounds like you and Gabriel Clark got along well?"
The young Indian man hesitated. He'd only approached to ask if he could take the crib back, but seeing the FBI badge at Jack's waist made him instantly regret his decision.
"I wouldn't say we were close. I mean, we moved here about a year ago, and he seemed friendly—a good neighbor. My wife and I felt safer knowing there was a cop nearby, you know?"
"So you interacted regularly. Don't worry; we're just trying to understand the situation," Jack said, fighting the urge to mimic the man's distinct head-bobbing habit.
"Did Gabriel ever talk about work? Maybe complaints about other officers, like state troopers?"
The young man quickly shook his head. "No, we mostly talked about life. Like having kids—he seemed excited about becoming a father himself."
"With whom?" JJ exchanged a puzzled glance with the others.
The house showed no signs of a live-in partner or recent female presence. Could Gabriel really have a girlfriend in Newark, as Hearn suggested?
"With Elisa—his girlfriend in Newark. I don't know her last name, but I have a picture. Gabriel sent it to me and my wife."
As he pulled out his phone to find the photo, his head bobbing intensified. His mannerisms, like his curry-flavored accent, were oddly hypnotic.
(End of Chapter)
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