Chapter 259: Chuck, I'm a Texan, Accustomed to Justice and Freedom!
In front of a detached house.
The police car stopped.
"Are you sure this is the place?"
The detective looked at the beautiful woman on the lawn, bending down to trim the flowers—a harmonious scene of suburban tranquility—and couldn't reconcile it with kidnapping.
"He doesn't have the guts, and he certainly doesn't have the ability to lie to me."
Chuck opened the door and got out.
The detective withdrew his gaze from the beautiful woman and followed, stepping past Chuck to greet her.
"Ma'am..."
"Mary Potter."
The beautiful woman looked over and smiled, "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
Then her gaze went straight past the detective and landed on Chuck, her eyes lighting up: "I know you, you're that Detective Chuck who just posted the reward, have you found that poor girl?"
"Not yet."
Chuck looked at her: "Do you have any leads?"
"Me?"
Mrs. Potter was stunned, then smiled bitterly: "If I had leads, I would have called the police immediately, there would be no need for you to post a reward."
"I believe you, Mrs. Potter."
The detective immediately gave her full trust.
"Can we talk inside?"
Chuck asked, looking at her.
"Of course."
Mrs. Potter put down her garden shears and invited them into the house. "Please make yourselves at home. What would you like to drink?"
"Coffee will do."
The detective, flattered, called out to Mrs. Potter as she entered the kitchen, then looked around the house and whispered to Chuck, "It can't be her, can it?"
"Let's take a look."
Chuck looked around the house while pulling out his phone and typing a text message without even looking at it.
"What are you doing?"
The detective was bewildered.
"Sending a text message to a friend in the IRS, asking her to check this family's tax situation,"
Chuck explained casually.
"…"
The detective's lips twitched. "Is this appropriate? And why?"
He was too lazy to ask how Chuck managed to type a text message blindly, or how he had a friend in the IRS.
"Why do you keep questioning me?"
Chuck countered. "What makes you feel so good about this Potter family you've never seen before?"
The detective was taken aback.
"Unusual surnames don't count,"
Chuck added.
The detective awkwardly withdrew his gaze, which he had been unable to resist casting again. He thought for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Are you saying that because her family seems wealthy, I subconsciously think she's a good person?"
"I didn't say anything,"
Chuck said bluntly. "Isn't this the truth?"
The detective fell silent.
His salary might not be paid by 'these kinds of good people,' but much of his supplemental income came from donations from them. It was natural to feel favorably toward them—no problem!
"Your drinks."
At that moment, Mrs. Potter, who had finished preparing in the kitchen, brought over coffee, tea, and water. She handed the coffee to the detective and the water to Chuck, then began to elegantly stir her own tea.
"Thank you,"
the detective quickly accepted, thanking her with a broad smile, taking a sip, and praising it highly.
"Where's Mr. Potter?"
Chuck didn't drink his water but looked at Mrs. Potter.
"He went to work, of course,"
Mrs. Potter smiled.
"What does he do?"
Chuck heard his phone vibrate, took it out to check, and asked.
"Internet-related."
Mrs. Potter asked doubtfully, "Why are you asking this? What happened?"
"Someone told me that the person most likely to be involved in Jamie's disappearance is your husband."
Chuck said, while reviewing the Potter family's tax records that Susan had sent him. After quickly scanning each page, he looked up at Mrs. Potter: "What do you think about this?"
"Impossible!"
Mrs. Potter was stunned: "My husband is a law-abiding citizen, how could he do such a heinous thing?"
"Do you really know your husband?"
Chuck stared into her eyes: "Or, as his wife, haven't you noticed anything unusual?"
Mrs. Potter hesitated for a moment, but still shook her head: "No! I believe my husband!"
"Then I'm sorry."
Chuck showed her the Potter family's tax return: "I'm going to tell you a shocking reality. Your husband isn't the internet professional you imagine. He has another side, at least that's what your tax return says."
Mrs. Potter listened to Chuck's explanation of the income and expenses on the tax return, which were completely different from what she knew, and fell silent.
"Now, take us to the basement!"
Chuck put away his phone, stood up, and looked at her in a commanding tone.
Mrs. Potter instinctively stood up and took a few steps.
The detective's phone suddenly rang. After answering, he said a few words and then looked at Chuck excitedly.
"Found her! Jamie has been found! She was taken by a family, the neighbors called the police, and our people have arrived and found Jamie!"
At this moment, Chuck's phone also rang. After answering, it was Chandler's voice: "Chuck, the police notified us that they found Jamie. I'm with Tim and Shelly on our way to confirm. Where are you now?"
"You guys go and confirm first, and let me know as soon as you have results."
Chuck said, then hung up the phone and calmly looked at Mrs. Potter standing there: "Continue!"
"Didn't you hear that?"
the detective exclaimed in surprise, "Jamie has been found!"
"So?"
Chuck countered, "I remember your police records. Before Jamie, there have been a total of 148 missing children in your area over the years."
"You mean…"
The detective looked at Mrs. Potter with a suspicious expression.
"Sorry, I forgot, I don't have the key."
Mrs. Potter's attitude had changed after this incident, her eyes flickering. "If you want to see, you'll have to wait until Jason returns."
"The basement can't be locked,"
Chuck said expressionlessly. "Thank you, Mrs. Potter, for the useful clue! If you have any other suspicious information about your husband, please tell us. Now, take us to the basement!"
Mrs. Potter panicked. "This...this doesn't require a search warrant?"
"Do we need to show a search warrant?"
Chuck stared at her. "So you're also involved? What do you know?"
"No! I don't know!"
Mrs. Potter quickly denied. "I don't know anything!"
"Then do we still need to show a search warrant?"
Chuck didn't give Mrs. Potter a chance to breathe.
"I'll take you."
Mrs. Potter was almost in tears, reluctantly leading the way.
Chuck gestured to the detective, who had been silently standing by, and the detective nodded, reaching for his pistol.
In this situation, if he still didn't know the Potter family was involved, or tried to stop Chuck from investigating, he would likely be met with Chuck's question: "So what do you know?"
"I mean, don't draw your gun!"
Chuck pressed his hand down.
"..."
The detective was speechless.
That's what your look meant?
No!
What do you mean?
In a country where gun violence is commonplace, with potential danger in the basement, you're giving me a look that says I can't draw my gun?
"There might be abducted children inside, don't instinctively empty your magazine,"
Chuck said bluntly. "You'll be safe if you stand behind me."
"Those are all exaggerations..."
The detective immediately understood that Chuck was referring to the tendency of some officers to overreact with their firearms, and awkwardly explained, "Not everyone does that."
"You should know I'm a consultant to many police departments, right?"
Chuck bluntly exposed the truth: "I've seen more police officers than you, and I can tell you responsibly that excessive use of force isn't just a local phenomenon, it's a problem in police departments across America."
"Won't it be dangerous inside?"
Mrs. Potter, having overheard the conversation behind her, felt her legs go weak.
"That's for you to tell us."
Chuck stepped aside, letting the detective support Mrs. Potter, and walked ahead.
"If your husband isn't home, and there aren't any other accomplices here, then there's no danger. Otherwise, I can responsibly tell you, we're safe."
"..."
Mrs. Potter paused.
Although Chuck said they were safe, she still felt uneasy.
"Mrs. Potter, don't worry, I'll protect you."
The detective, supporting Mrs. Potter, bravely declared that he was going to do something beyond his duties.
Not for anything else!
Just for Mrs. Potter… oh no, just for the sake of his own sense of justice!
"The key!"
They had reached the basement entrance, and saw the door was locked. Chuck looked directly at Mrs. Potter.
American criminals love imprisoning people in basements, because almost every house has one.
So this perfect environment for imprisonment, like readily available weapons, is all too common.
Lock the door, and the person inside is helpless, with no way to escape.
Because of so many heinous basement imprisonment incidents, there are specific laws in many jurisdictions prohibiting basements from being locked from the outside.
This deliberately locked basement is clearly suspicious.
"I don't know where the key is…"
Mrs. Potter shook her head. Seeing Chuck staring at her, she explained, "Jason never lets me in. He gets angry if I ask. I'm just a housewife; the family depends on Jason, so I don't dare ask any more questions."
"I believe you,"
Chuck nodded. "But you're also the head of the household. Now we need your permission to open the lock by force. Do you agree?"
"How can I disagree?"
Mrs. Potter said with a bitter smile.
"Do you agree?"
Chuck didn't accept this vague answer and asked again clearly.
Now they were working on a case with a detective, and everything would go to court. In the United States, where procedural justice is valued, any flaw in the investigation could be exploited by the opposing lawyer, allowing the perpetrator to escape punishment even when the truth is clear.
Chuck didn't want to make that mistake.
"I agree,"
Mrs. Potter could only answer seriously.
"I'll go find a crowbar!"
The detective felt it was time to show his skills.
"No need!"
Chuck said, and under the detective's stunned gaze, he pulled an oversized pistol from his waist and fired a shot at the lock.
Thud!
The sound wasn't loud, but the lock was precisely struck and broken.
"You always carry such a big gun? And with a suppressor on the muzzle?"
The detective couldn't help but complain, "Plus, the way you pick locks with your gun, anyone who didn't know better would think you're some kind of hitman! And doesn't it hurt your back?"
"I'm from Texas,"
Chuck said succinctly, tearing away the broken lock, opening the basement door, and giving the detective a knowing look before he could even respond. The detective was already reaching for his pistol at his waist when Chuck holstered his gun and went inside first.
"I've been used to carrying since I was 12."
"..."
The detective's expression was extremely strange, feeling like he'd just been upstaged.
Mrs. Potter momentarily forgot her worries and couldn't help but look over, but only saw Chuck's back.
"No danger, come in!"
Chuck's voice quickly followed.
The detective helped Mrs. Potter inside.
Mrs. Potter's face paled.
The detective, his face lighting up with excitement, exclaimed, "There really is an abducted child!"
In the basement, there was another small room built like a shipping container, still locked. A computer desk stood in the center, which Chuck had already activated, displaying the surveillance video from inside the container room.
A little boy, about four or five years old, was inside, playing with a toy, pleading with the camera, "Let me out! I promise I'll be good, please, please~"
"This is a chat room!"
the detective exclaimed in shock after examining the computer. "It's live! 24/7 live streaming!"
"Clearly, Mr. Potter is a true internet specialist,"
Chuck said expressionlessly, adjusting his decorative glasses. After a barely perceptible vibration from his wristwatch, he drew his large gun and precisely destroyed the lock on the container, opening it once more.
"Detective!"
Chuck gestured for the detective to come forward and retrieve the trapped child.
"Okay!"
The detective glanced gratefully at Chuck, straightened his clothes, and struck his most heroic pose. He opened the door and gently spoke to the child, who was huddled in a corner, terrified by the sudden turn of events.
"Don't be afraid, I'm Detective David Perry Frost. Son, you're saved!"
He then looked towards the wall inside the container, where a grotesque mask hung, its mouth fitted with a camera, making it appear even more eerie and terrifying.
The child who had been imprisoned was kneeling under the camera, looking up at the protruding camera in the mask's mouth, pleading.
"Whoever you are, it's all over! You will face justice!"
the detective declared righteously.
Unfortunately, apart from the camera recording everything, no one was listening to him.
After the door was broken open and he revealed his identity, the live chat room immediately began to ring with notifications of people logging off. Within moments, everyone was gone.
"I really don't know, I swear…"
Mrs. Potter said, her face pale and tears streaming down her face.
Unfortunately, Chuck remained unmoved, and the detective who would normally have been eager to comfort her was now too focused on other matters to pay her any attention.
His entire focus was on the traumatized, imprisoned boy, trying to establish himself as his rescuer.
Chuck notified the local police, ordering them to send some officers over, leaving the official matters to the detectives.
He then gave instructions regarding his additional investigation and went to meet up with Chandler and the others.
(End of Chapter)