Although it is unclear how Dick Reed escaped NYPD surveillance and showed up at the dive bar late at night, it is clear that there was a problem with the surveillance measures arranged by Danny.
When the two rushed to Dick Reed's mother's house in Long Island with the search warrant they had urgently applied for, the detective in charge of surveillance was still confused.
"He must still be in there. We have guards in front and behind the house. He can't get away." The detective said confidently.
Danny ignored the guy and rushed in with his pistol drawn. Jack raised his hand to block him, glaring at him sternly, "Stay calm, or I'd rather go in alone."
He took a deep breath, exhaled heavily a moment later, then put his hand on the door handle and looked at Jack, "I'm ready."
Jack pulled out his pistol and slipped into the house as he pushed open the door. Then the two checked the rooms on the first floor one by one.
A loud television blared from the living room. Jack, standing sideways in the doorway leading to the living room, peeked in. Sitting on a single sofa was a white woman in her sixties or seventies, glued to the television.
Jack tilted his head slightly to Danny, signaling that it was safe inside. The two men, their guns slung across their backs, approached the woman. She remained impassive, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around them.
"Ma'am, ma'am, we need to talk about your son." Danny stepped forward and nudged her. The woman remained unresponsive. He instinctively felt her pulse. "Is she alive?"
Jack nodded and whispered, "Severe Alzheimer's." This disease is commonly known as senile dementia, and in its advanced stages, it completely robs people of their ability to speak and move.
After checking the first-floor rooms and confirming that no one was there except Dick Reed's mother, the two men cautiously continued their search upstairs. As they reached the bedroom door, they heard a woman sobbing softly.
Jack tried the doorknob, but found it locked. He turned and motioned for Danny to cover him, then stepped back half a step and kicked the door, sending it flying.
Danny entered the room, gun drawn, then froze in his tracks. Jack followed him inside, stunned by the sight before him: a middle-aged woman, naked, tied to the bed, her face and body covered in bruises and marks of violence.
Upon seeing the two men enter, the woman let out a low cry for help, "Help me, please."
Danny, quick to react, didn't rush forward. Instead, he took two quick steps inside and opened the bathroom door to check if anyone was hiding.
Jack put away his Glock, pulled the sheet from the woman's body, and untied her wrists from the bed frame, asking, "Are you okay? Was this Dick Reed?"
What the hell? How had that bastard managed to kidnap a woman from outside under the NYPD's strict surveillance?
Unexpectedly, the woman's slightly trembling voice made Jack pause as he untied the rope. "He's my brother."
"That beast did this to you," Danny gritted out, pulling out his phone and calling 911 for an ambulance.
"Where's he?" Jack untied the rope and helped the woman up. Fortunately, the bruises looked a bit severe, but apart from the insult, at least her life was not in danger.
"He usually lives in the basement," the woman said, grabbing Jack's arm, her words pleading.
"I know this is a bit ridiculous, but he's usually very nice to me. I said something wrong that pissed him off. I shouldn't have said that. It's all my fault."
Hearing this, the two of them felt as if they'd been fed a swarm of flies, their worldviews shattered. What the hell... what kind of a fabulous family is this?
Jack was stunned for a moment, then instinctively withdrew his hand from the woman's. Unsure of what to say in this situation, he lowered his head and walked out of the room with Danny.
"Your paper might need some revisions," Danny said weakly.
"Shut up!" Jack wasn't sure if his current emotion was just anger or rage. He had never seen such an outrageous relationship in Japanese porn movies in his previous life. How could a mere psychology graduate student possibly imagine this?
They went down to the first floor and easily found the basement entrance. However, after searching the cluttered basement, they found nothing.
It was a typical New York semi-basement. Besides a pile of miscellaneous items and a mattress for sleeping, there were only a few small windows that led directly to the street for ventilation and light, but these windows were completely sealed with iron bars.
Jack reached out and tested the small window, finding that while an adult could barely squeeze through, the iron bars above were intact. Could a living person just disappear like that?
Just as he was about to heighten his perception for a closer look, Danny had already made a discovery. He forcefully pulled aside a pile of debris in the corner and pushed over a dilapidated wardrobe, revealing a small door behind it.
"Damn, there's a tunnel here."
"Are you kidding?" Jack flicked on his tactical flashlight and saw, as expected, a narrow tunnel behind the small door, leading to the next house.
The ambulance, sirens blaring, took away the injured woman, leaving Jack and Danny staring at each other in bewilderment. The awkward atmosphere between them was interrupted by a patrol officer who had just finished his inspection next door. "No one's home. The house over there has been vacant for a long time. There's a World War II-era bomb shelter underneath. No trace of the suspect," the patrol officer said.
"Let me think about who he might be looking for." Danny's sanity finally returned a bit, his rationality returning to his head. "Uh, Becky Swatch, the sole survivor. We have to find her before that bastard does."
"You, the NYPD, didn't arrange for witness protection?" Jack exclaimed in surprise.
"Erin said she refused police protection after refusing to testify. I have her address. Now it's your turn to show off your driving skills." Danny opened the door and got into the passenger seat of the Hellcat.
"What a shitty day!" Jack turned on the sirens and slammed the accelerator, turning the steering wheel sharply. The Hellcat's tires screamed in protest, scraping against the ground in two puffs of smoke.
"Bang!" In a Queens apartment, the door was violently kicked open. Danny, rushing in, roared and lunged, swooping down to tackle a figure to the ground.
With a "clang", a dagger fell to the ground. Jack turned on the light switch in the room and carried out the girl hiding in the closet. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm Agent Tavola. We've met before, remember?"
The girl cried out and hugged Jack tightly, refusing to let go.
Danny was still beating the man under him, but he realized that the screams were not right. He grabbed his hair and pulled him back, revealing a wretched and ugly face.
"This is not Reed, it's his imitator, James Richard. Fuck!" Danny was so angry that he punched the guy in the waist again, causing him to twitch in pain.
"But thank God, we arrived in time." Danny looked at the girl in Jack's arms who was still in shock, and breathed a sigh of relief.