Jack on the side forced himself to suppress the excitement of seeing his childhood idol, with a shy smile on his face: "Hello, Ms. Didi McCall, I am Jack Tawaller."
Unexpectedly, Didi McCall took the initiative to extend her hands to the sunny boy in front of her and hugged him: "Hello, handsome boy, I am glad to see you."
When he walked into the house, he did not see the long-awaited figure. Seeing the puzzled looks of the two, Didi McCall sighed: "Rick unfortunately suffered a stroke two months ago, and his right side was paralyzed. Rehabilitation is not enough. "It's not going well."
Their hearts tightened, and Jack quickly said, "Can we see him?"
Dee Dee McCall nodded. "Of course he's welcome. He hasn't been out for two weeks, and knowing two young officers are here to visit him makes him feel better. We don't have children, so we don't have many young people visiting us."
She led the two to the first-floor bedroom and opened the door. A gaunt, silver-haired old man smiled at the young couple, his slightly melancholic eyes harking back to the charisma of the brave detective in his youth.
"Mr. Hunter, I'm Jack Tawaller. It's an honor to meet you. I've long admired your deeds." Despite trying hard to hide it, Jack's slightly trembling voice betrayed his current mood.
Rick Hunter, though half paralyzed, was perfectly conscious. The stubborn old man stretched out his still-movable left hand and shook Jack's. Feeling the young man's excitement, a hint of confusion crossed his face. "Who are Nathan and Fanny Taverer to you?"
Jack was taken aback. Could it be that Detective Hunter knew the original's parents? Thinking that the old man was a veteran Los Angeles cop with over thirty years, he thought it might be possible. He tossed aside his prepared thoughts and, no longer forcing himself to speak, replied in a trembling voice, "They're my parents. Do you remember them?"
"Of course. Nathan and Fanny are old friends of mine. Back when I was still on the streets, I used to go to that little shop on Saturn Street to buy some Ceres snacks. You wouldn't have been born then. How are they doing now?"
Jack was startled, then a look of sadness crossed his face. "My family was in a fire three years ago. I survived, but they were all killed..."
"Oh, poor kid," Dee Dee McCall, beside him, tearfully embraced Jack.
Rick Hunter
's face was filled with guilt. "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't know." "I'm fine. It's all in the past. I often heard my father talk about you when I was little, so now I'm a member of the LAPD," Jack, now an actor, comforted the two elderly people and said something along those lines.
Hannah, standing by, suddenly realized. No wonder Jack had said he'd come to visit the elderly couple earlier; it was all a coincidence.
Listening to Rick Hunter's story, Jack thought to himself how lucky he was. It turned out that over 30 years ago, when he was still a patrol officer, Detective Hunter had helped to drive off some street thugs causing trouble at a small grocery store. They'd known each other since then, though they had a close friendship. Over time, and with his busy schedule as a detective, they gradually lost touch.
"In fact, it was your parents' elopement that really touched me, and gave me the courage to propose to Dee Dee," Rick Hunter said with a wistful expression. Jack was relieved, having never imagined such a coincidence. He naturally struck up a relationship with the Hunters, and his original parents soon became known as a grateful couple.
They would regularly follow the newspapers and recount Uncle Hunter's heroic deeds to their son, and from that young age, he had aspirations of becoming an LAPD officer. To back up his story, he vaguely recounted a case he had seen on the show "Hunter." Hunter and Dee Dee clearly had excellent memories, and with just a few words of guidance, they recalled the entire case with clarity, prompting Jack to nod his head repeatedly.
Hannah, a skilled assistant, embellished the story, describing how Jack, after suffering a tragedy, forged ahead on his own, not only continuing his studies but also graduating from the police academy with flying colors, becoming a promising young officer.
As a result, Jack had an aunt and uncle, and he and Hannah were forced to stay for lunch, enjoying Aunt Dee Dee's delicious stew.
After lunch, Jack helped Uncle Hunter to the wheelchair with great effort. In his heart, he felt that Aunt Didi had gone through a lot. Didi was less than 1.7 meters tall, while Hunter was 1.98 meters tall. Even if he was thinner, he would still be as tall as a telephone pole of nearly 2 meters. No wonder rehabilitation was so difficult.
Pushing the wheelchair to the front yard, so that the old man could see the long-lost sun and breathe some fresh air, Jack chatted with his Uncle Hunter while mowing the lawn.
"Little Hannah said that you have been a police officer for less than 2 months and you have already killed two suspects?" Hunter asked in disbelief, gently hitting his numb right arm.
"Yes, the first time was when I helped my new officer in training deal with a hostage-taker, and the second time was when I shot and killed a drug dealer who tried to shoot our commander, Superintendent Gray." Jack answered while skillfully pruning the rose bushes.
"I thought Los Angeles was dangerous enough in the '80s and '90s. Back then, I had to buy a new car every time I worked a case
. I didn't expect it to be much better now." Jack nodded repeatedly, thinking, "Yes, yes. When I was a kid, I loved watching you and the beautiful Dee Dee driving around and hitting people. We'd write off several cars in every episode. Back then, I thought beautiful Chinese people were so rich. They didn't feel bad at all when such expensive cars were hit.
" "Hey, kid, do you have a spare gun?" Hunter suddenly seemed to think of something. He turned around and shouted into the safe, "Dee Dee, help me get that box from the safe."
Dee Dee retrieved an exquisite walnut box and placed it on Hunter's lap. He smiled and asked, "Old man, are you really willing to give away your treasure?"
Jack looked at the wooden box curiously. Hunter struggled to open it with his left hand. Inside lay a domineering, roasted blue Colt Python.
"I can't use it anyway, so why not give it to this nice young man? You can't rely on just a plastic gun on the dangerous streets. Sometimes an old one is more reliable."
The Glock 22 Jack currently uses is made of a lot of engineering plastic parts, earning it the nickname "plastic gun" from some veteran cops. The Colt Python, a classic, was widely used by American police officers in the 1970s and 1980s.
(End of Chapter)