Chapter 1168: "Real Estate Agent"

Mrs. Asift didn’t take offense at what might’ve seemed like a blunt question from Jack. Instead, she gave a slightly complicated smile and answered directly.

“One word summarizes his preference—young. He liked young girls.”

That answer caught both FBI agents slightly off guard—surprisingly straightforward.

“Uh, how young exactly?” Though she’d said young and not underage, Jack still followed up cautiously. After all, when it came to the "interests" of the rich in this country, people were well aware of certain reputations.

“Twenty or so, twenty-five max,” she said, shrugging. “I was about that age when I met him.”

That remark had layers to it. Jack remembered the file from Prosecutor General Jackson—there had been a note indicating she’d gone from mistress to wife, and that Asift was on his fourth marriage.

He jotted that down in his notebook—he’d need to cross-reference the ages of Asift’s previous wives.

“Okay, this might sound a bit dumb, but we need to confirm: aside from liking young women, did Mr. Asift have any particularly private or even extreme preferences? Because he spent an awful lot of money on a single escort. Is it possible he had a kink that made him especially fixated on girls that age?”

The young widow chuckled, shaking her head. Her tone was calm, matter-of-fact.

“Agent, if I was willing to meet with you, I wasn’t planning to hide anything. You need to understand—some men, when they sleep with someone, aren’t just after pleasure. It’s about ego. Conquering a young, beautiful woman? That’s enough to inflate their fragile self-esteem.

In marriages like ours, there’s basically no physical intimacy after the first year or two. So it’s either self-service or doing what my husband did—pay for it.”

After leaving the mansion, JJ looked noticeably unsettled, and Jack knew exactly what kind of thoughts were running through her mind.

He pulled the car over into a quiet corner and, without giving her time to react, pulled her into a long, deep kiss. Some things were better expressed through action than sweet talk.

Afterward, with her lipstick smudged and cheeks flushed, JJ gave him a playful glare while taking a mirror from her purse to fix her makeup—but that cloud of insecurity on her face was gone.

Jack dropped JJ off at the office and then headed with Aubrey to a business tower near the Kennedy Memorial Plaza.

They waited less than ten minutes in the lobby before a well-dressed, polished white woman in her forties walked up to them and extended her hand.

“Agent Aubrey? Agent Tavoller?”

“Yes,” Jack replied, shaking her hand briefly.

“Ellen Daniels, Chief Operating Officer at Bathwell Consulting,” she introduced herself.

Surrounded by busy professionals rushing past, the three moved into a quiet corner. Jack got straight to the point.

“Ms. Daniels, you’re the one who managed the media and presented both victims’ deaths as peaceful and at home, correct?”

“Yes. Their lawyers and families hired me to handle public messaging. My company specializes in strategic risk management and crisis communications for large corporate and financial entities.”

Even when facing the FBI, this “cleaner” remained completely composed.

“I know your job is solving people’s problems. Well, I’ve got one I need your help with.”

But before Jack could say anything more, Daniels cut him off with a shake of her head.

“Sorry. I don’t know who the girl is. Do you really think my clients would volunteer that kind of information? I’m afraid there’s nothing I can offer. Nobody’s going to admit to hiring a ‘professional girlfriend.’”

“Is that so? But we both know someone in their circle has access to that information. Give me a number—just one. I promise you won’t be on the hook. That’s a pretty good deal, don’t you think?”

Jack wasn’t interested in wasting time. He laid out a direct offer. But Daniels just gave a derisive laugh.

“Oh, please, Agent. Solving problems is my job. You think threats like that scare me?”

Jack thought, If you were really that fearless, you wouldn’t have come running to meet us so quickly.

“Alright, we’re done here,” Jack said flatly, signaling to Aubrey as if to walk away.

“Wait, Agent—”

She hurriedly stepped in front of them again, her face now wearing a practiced, slightly obsequious smile.

“Gentlemen, patience is a virtue. You know the saying: a watched pot never boils. I think we can find something more productive to discuss.”

“Ms. Daniels,” Jack warned, his tone sharpening, “we’re looking for a killer. And until that person is caught, every one of your other clients could be in danger.

All I want is a phone number—either someone in the know, or one of the girls. We just need to talk.”

Aubrey gave a cold snort. “If I could find you, I can find others too. Sure, it might take more time.

But if there’s another victim in the meantime, the FBI will lay it at your feet—and make sure everyone knows it.

Your job is to make problems disappear, not create new ones. Don’t you think, Ms. Daniels?”

Daniels’ smile froze for a moment. But her years of professional polish allowed her to recover quickly.

“Even if I could put you in touch with the girls, it would be pointless. You know no escort is going to talk to the FBI about her work.”

Then she gave a sly, almost conspiratorial smile.

“But perhaps… I can offer you someone better.”

She reached into her purse and produced a pink business card that had clearly been prepared in advance. But just as Aubrey reached to take it, she pulled her hand back.

“There’s one condition: you’ll need to overlook a few legal technicalities.”

“No promises,” Jack said, his tone firm. “But we’ll consider it. I’ll say this one last time—our mission is catching the killer. The rest isn’t our concern. Not right now.”

He took the card from her hand and glanced at it, then frowned.

“Real estate agent?”