"So we're actually dealing with two or a gang of outlaws? Does Alabama have its own Robin Hood?" Clay asked curiously after returning to the car.
Aubrey threw his hands up, indicating he wasn't sure. "I checked with the state police, and there haven't been any reports of similar theft rings lately."
"I only know Zorro scratched the Z on bad guys, but are there any outlaws who cut off their ears after killing someone?" Jack felt that this case was more about revenge.
After urging the local state police to expedite the identification of evidence such as fingerprints and footprints, the three returned to Georgia overnight.
The security situation in the "Black Belt" region is comparable to that of the Western Serbia in the 1980s and 1990s. Not only are various serious crimes frequent, but a large number of problems are also hidden or deliberately ignored.
This is the poorest region in the United States, so sparsely populated that just finding a store might require driving dozens of miles, and police force distribution is extremely uneven.
The town the trio had previously passed through only had two permanent police officers, even fewer than Margrave once had.
The next morning, Margrave held a lively celebration. Despite the expansion of the already small town center, it was still packed.
Roscoe organized a parade and hired a very impressive carnival team, setting up various entertainment facilities in the open space outside the town.
This was Jack's first time attending such an American-style temple fair. He wandered around with a Coke in hand, curiously enough. At Hannah's instigation, he even helped the children in a target shooting game to bully the "evil-hearted" boss, winning a large number of stuffed animals.
In the end, Alice, the only one left busy at the police station, called everyone back.
"Any new findings?" Jack handed her a glass of shaved ice.
Alice, biting her straw, turned her laptop screen towards him. "I think I've found the suspect."
The photo showed a white man in his 30s. While his features weren't perfectly clear, they were enough for the software to detect certain features. Ugh.
Everyone gathered around. Jack, watching the facial recognition program in action, was somewhat surprised. "I thought the parking lot security footage wasn't sharp enough for comparison."
In some ways, this world still adheres to science. Poor resolution is poor, and it can be sharpened, but there's no such thing as magical, black technology that can transform a mosaic into a high-definition photo with software processing.
Alice looked very proud. "Yes, but I used the parking lot footage to locate a large truck parked across from the Bodettes' car, and then asked the owner for his dashcam footage."
"Well done." Jubal gave a thumbs-up, and Aubrey, beside him, also looked smug and proud, wondering what was going on.
Although Alice's recognition program was running remotely from a server in the basement garage of the New York office, the sheer volume of data meant it would take time to produce results.
Just as Jubal suggested everyone go for a drink to celebrate, Jiejie received another report from the Alabama State Police: a home invasion and murder had occurred that morning in a small town in Dallas County.
Dallas County is located in southwestern Alabama. Considering the string of crimes occurring within Alabama, the group had no choice but to bid farewell to Roscoe and depart Georgia for Montgomery.
Montgomery is the capital of Alabama and one of the few relatively prosperous cities in the state, with a population approaching 200,000.
Upon arriving here, the wanted criminal squad split into two groups: Jubal and Alice headed to the local office, while Jack and the others continued west to Dallas County.
A local FBI agent was already waiting at the crime scene. When they arrived, the young, white agent was standing in the small garden outside the house, hugging a tree and vomiting violently.
"Sorry, this is my first time on a scene," the rookie agent gratefully accepted the bottle of mineral water offered by Jiejie and apologized shamefully.
Jack entered the beautiful little house, the overwhelming smell of blood leading him directly to the body's location.
In the living room sat a long dining table covered with an embroidered tablecloth. At one end of the table, bound with tape, sat the victim, a rather overweight elderly woman, on a high-backed chair.
Her throat had been slit, and a trail of arterial blood spurted across the table. A swarm of flies buzzed around it, making a chilling sound.
Jack's gaze fell on a beautiful English bone china teacup in front of the body. Inside lay a section of the body's severed tongue.
"The postman knocked on the door but couldn't find anything. He looked through the window and immediately called the police. We and the local police received your report regarding the murder of the truck driver, so we contacted you directly,"
the rookie agent said, his face pale. He covered his mouth, trying to suppress his vomit.
"You'll get used to it," Clay patted his shoulder soothingly. "What do you know about the deceased?"
"Not much." The rookie agent pulled a notepad from his pocket and began to read from it. "The deceased's name is Mary Strong. I asked the mailman, and he said she rarely left the house, occasionally buying groceries online.
The house showed little signs of being rummaged through, and her jewelry was in the bedroom. I contacted her son and confirmed there weren't any large sums of cash in the house."
Just then, Jack's phone rang. He opened it and was surprised to find it was Cassel calling.
"What's going on?" He answered the call and headed for the door. The great writer knew he was out of town on a case and generally wouldn't bother him at a time like this.
Sure enough, Cassel's voice sounded downcast. "Jack, I think we could use your help,"
Jack asked, glancing at his teammates busy inside. "Is it urgent?"
"Uh, not really, but I think we're in some serious trouble," Cassel muttered, as if trying to avoid someone.
"When you say we, you mean you and Beckett?" Jack had a vague idea of what was going on. Alexis had previously told him about her father, who had been busy helping Beckett investigate her mother's case.
This was a long-running plotline in the original series, running almost the entire series, so Jack had no recollection of it. He only remembered that the real culprit seemed to be a very important figure.
"Yes, how long will it take you to get back to New York? I'm a little worried about Beckett's safety." Castle's voice was filled with worry, his voice gradually lowering.
"It's hard to say, but I can come back immediately if necessary." Guessing that this guy was secretly calling him, Jack answered without further questioning.
"That's not necessary," Castle swallowed hesitantly. "I think I might need your advice. Things are getting a little off, but it's not convenient to talk over the phone."
If he hadn't known this guy was the protagonist, Jack would have thought that based on this message alone, he would probably just be collecting his body when he returned to New York.
"Send me the information or data, and then contact NYPD Chief Frank Regan. Don't do anything until I get back, understand?"
It seems that this case needs to be accelerated, Jack thought to himself after hanging up the phone.
(End of this chapter)