Chapter 1158: A New Suspect

"How did you know George Bolton liked orange soda? It’s not mentioned in his file," Aubrey asked as they left the high-security psychiatric facility.

Jack casually tossed the empty bottle in a smooth arc straight into a nearby recycling bin, the clink of glass echoing crisply.
"I didn’t," he replied. "But I knew if I didn’t take that bottle back, he’d ‘accidentally’ smash it, hide a shard of glass, and eventually use it to slit a guard’s throat."

"Ah..." Aubrey’s mouth hung open in stunned silence.

By the time they returned to Richmond, it was already late. At the police station, their team looked groggy and sluggish, poring over files between yawns.

But when Jack and Aubrey walked into the conference room with large bags of food, the team erupted into cheers.

The two wealthiest guys on the task force had brought in midnight snacks, and they weren’t going to settle for greasy pizza.

Richmond’s upscale Chinese cuisine held its own against anything in New York. Jack had even spotted intricate dishes like chicken tofu blossom and soup-filled yellow croaker on the menu.

Of course, takeout didn’t need to be that fancy. For a late-night working meal, dishes like braised pork belly, stir-fried shrimp, and steamed broccoli with superior broth served with Yangzhou fried rice were more than enough to satisfy everyone.

Jane Banner, never having experienced Jack’s cooking firsthand, was nonetheless delighted by the Chinese takeout.

"I reached out to a few contacts," she said between bites. "They confirmed what I told you earlier—none of the known extremist groups have been active, and there’s been no chatter involving Valerie or her husband."

Jack gave her a smile in thanks—words were unnecessary, especially under the watchful eyes of JJ and Hannah.

He hadn’t even ordered sweet-and-sour ribs, yet the air in the room carried a distinct hint of vinegar.

Clearing his throat, Jack turned to Jubal. "Any progress with Valerie’s patient list?"

"Next to nothing," Jubal said, nodding to Elise. She brought up a list of photo profiles on the screen.

"We reviewed every name on her caseload and cross-referenced them with histories of antisocial traits or prior violence. We flagged six individuals—assault charges, domestic abuse, schizophrenia, PTSD, and so on. But every one of them has a solid alibi."

"How solid?" Aubrey asked, helping Elise clear away her takeout containers like a dutiful partner.

"Three are institutionalized. Two are monitored with ankle bracelets. One’s currently overseas."

Clay sighed. Eliminating suspects was necessary, but it was never satisfying.

Jack wasn’t surprised. Simple cases rarely made it to their desk. That was just how things worked in this universe.

"So either we’re on the wrong track, or the killer is someone with no criminal history, someone buried in the rest of the list," he said. Seeing that everyone was food-coma drowsy, he glanced at Jubal. "Why don’t we all rest up for now? That list is long, and we won’t get through it tonight. A fresh lead might pop up tomorrow."

Jubal nodded and clapped his hands. "Alright, everyone, head back to the hotel and get some sleep. We’re not dealing with a serial killer here—no need to rush."

Jane opened her mouth to speak, but JJ quickly hooked an arm around her shoulder.

"The room next to mine should be free. Why don’t you book it? We can have a drink and chat about girl stuff. Hannah and I have been dying to ask about the Wind River case."

Hannah gave Jack a teasing wink and chimed in cheerfully.

Three women and no water to drink... Jack sighed as Jane, looking amused and a bit defeated, was dragged off by the two women. He shrugged, grabbed his car keys, and offered to drive them all back to the hotel.
——
The next morning, Jack received an email from New York. The bullet fragments he had sent to the CSI lab had results.

As he munched on breakfast and printed the findings, he greeted the team as they returned to the station.

"Looks like our luck’s finally turned. This bullet came from a registered Colt .38 revolver."

Aubrey took the coffee Jack handed him. "Another murder case?"

"Nope. It was originally logged as an accidental discharge." Jack passed him the report. "You’ll never guess whose gun it was."

"Nathan Curtis? Who’s that?" Aubrey asked, shaking the thin stack of pages.

"The neighbor who called it in?" Jubal paused mid-reach for a muffin. "Damn. He fooled both of us."

Jack said nothing about being fooled. He just poured himself another cup of coffee. "Clay’s already headed over with local police. Shouldn’t take long to bring our ‘helpful neighbor’ in for questioning."

Sure enough, Clay smoothly "invited" the friendly neighbor Nathan Curtis back to the station.

Curtis thought he was there to assist the investigation. No cuffs. He looked confused until he was taken to the interrogation room—and Jubal sat across from him with a serious expression.

"You’re out of your minds! Valerie was my friend. Why would I ever hurt her?" he snapped, face flushing red.

Jubal slid the ballistic report across the table. "But the evidence says otherwise. Your registered firearm was the murder weapon. Friendly tip—asking for a lawyer right now will only make you look more guilty."

"What gun? My guns are all locked in my cabinet—I don’t need a lawyer—"

His voice cut off when his eyes landed on the photo of the revolver.

"Shit... how the hell is it that one?"

His face drained of color.

Jubal tapped the table gently, signaling him to focus. "Trust me. Your best option now is to tell us everything you know."

"Goddammit... I really didn’t want to bring this up again." Curtis buried his face in his hands, his voice thick with regret.