Jack's first official work, the Detective Jack series, was officially released. Despite the "Rising Star of the FBI" marketing tagline, it didn't take off as quickly as hoped—at least, it wasn't as popular as some of the bestselling CEO romance novels.
Fortunately, two well-known writers, David Rossi and Rick Castle, had recommended the book, which led critics to at least give it a glance. The praise was limited, but the reviews were fair.
Of course, the critiques were inevitable: the genre felt dated, the suspense wasn't intense enough, and many called it too conventional. However, for a debut novelist, Jack's initial reception was far better than most new writers could hope for.
After wrapping up everything, Jack immediately reached out to Danny Reagan. Danny had previously mentioned that his father invited Jack to a family gathering, which Jack took seriously. The Reagans weren't an ordinary family; Frank Reagan and Henry Reagan—Danny's father and grandfather—were both prominent figures in law enforcement. Frank was the current NYPD Commissioner, and Henry was a former commissioner from the '90s.
Jack wasn't sure of the personalities of these two, but since they'd extended an informal family invitation, he sensed that they didn't want things too formal.
When the call connected, Jack could hear police sirens in the background; it sounded like Danny was in the middle of a job.
"Uh, sounds like I'm calling at a bad time."
"Just a few car thieves—no big deal. Hey, I heard your new book is out. Linda's been asking me where she can buy it," Danny replied, sounding a bit excited.
Jack understood instantly; with Hannah on leave in L.A., Danny had probably been a bit bored at the office. Jack grabbed two copies, signed them, and said, "Where are you? I'll bring over two copies."
"Crossing the Queensboro Bridge now. Looks like these punks are trying to escape to Long Island. We're planning to cut them off near Flushing."
As he heard Danny honking and muttering curses at the thieves, Jack grabbed his keys, left his office, and told Jubal he'd be out for a bit. Driving his Dodge Hellcat, he hit the road. Luckily, with the morning rush hour over, traffic was lighter than usual, making the drive more manageable. Any other time, he might have skipped this whole thing—by the time he'd get there, they'd likely have the suspects back at the station.
With his police radio tuned to the NYPD dispatch, Jack followed along as he sped down Route 25, taking a few quick turns before merging onto the Long Island Expressway.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the scene, spotting a heavily damaged white Toyota surrounded by NYPD vehicles. Carefully, he maneuvered around the debris and parked, signaling to a nearby officer and showing his badge.
"I'm looking for Detective Danny Reagan. Anyone seen him?"
The officer looked a bit confused, surprised that the situation was attracting both a senior detective and an FBI agent. Scratching his head, he pointed across the highway. "Detective Reagan chased one of them into that park after he ditched his car."
Jack gave him a thumbs up, restarted his Hellcat, and turned on the siren, heading toward the park—which was, in fact, a golf course. Since it was only a couple of thieves, the officers had chosen to pursue on foot rather than risk the wrath of the course owners by driving over the pricey green.
Jack grabbed his radio, stepping out of his car and glancing around in frustration, only to spot a group of elderly men in golf carts. Getting an idea, he waved them down. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind if I borrowed one of your carts?"
The elderly men, clearly aware of the commotion outside, stepped out before he even showed his badge.
"Of course, officer! Are you after a fugitive? Did he run in here?"
Jack took the golf clubs from the back of the cart and handed them over to the group. The clubs might have been worth more than a dozen of these golf carts combined.
"Yes, one of my colleagues is in pursuit. Thank you, gentlemen—I'll pass along NYPD's appreciation for your cooperation." Then, driving the small cart, he took off toward where other officers were reporting sightings.
Minutes later, he spotted Danny, who was already out of breath, struggling to keep up with the chase.
"Need a lift?" Jack whistled as he pulled up beside him.
"What is this? A new ride from the FBI?" Danny asked, leaning on his knees and catching his breath.
"Are you hopping in or not?" Jack chuckled.
With Danny on board, they resumed the pursuit. Soon, a report came over the radio of the suspect's location.
A few minutes later, they approached a hill and spotted an officer hiding behind a large tree. Next to him was an overturned portable toilet, known as a "Honey Bucket"—the kind certain urban legends claim was used as a beehive.
"Oh no… Don't tell me he's hiding in there," Jack muttered, stopping the cart and exchanging looks with Danny.
Danny approached the toilet and gave it a firm kick. From inside, a voice with a distinctive rap accent yelled, "Help! I can't move! I'm covered in crap!"
"Whose bright idea was this?" Jack asked, glancing at the nearby officer.
It seemed that someone had intentionally tipped over the portable toilet, with the door on the ground trapping the suspect inside. It was clever, but it left the poor officer in charge of the cleanup with a rather unpleasant task.
The officer grimaced and pointed to an old man hiding behind another tree, who, upon realizing he'd been noticed, proudly waved at them.
Although the officer didn't know Jack was only an FBI visitor, it was clear that the unenviable task of pulling out the suspect fell to him. Sure enough, Danny approached the overturned toilet, lifted it upright, and, drawing his weapon, smiled at the officer. "I'll cover you."
The officer muttered under his breath and banged on the door. "Get yourself out here, or I'll shake the rest of the stink out of you!"
"Stop! Please! Don't do this!" A moment later, a young man with dreadlocks pushed open the door and stumbled out.
"Hands on the ground! Head down—" The officer put on gloves and pulled out handcuffs. Even though he'd braced himself, the stench was nauseating.
"Need a hand, Danny?" The officer gave him a half-hearted grin.
Danny, though feeling slightly guilty, took a firm step back. "I trust you've got this."
"All right, up you go." The officer hoisted the handcuffed young man up, who had lost all will to resist. He tried to pass the suspect off to Danny, hoping to get out of it himself. "Would you take him from here, sir?"
"Uh, no thanks. My cart's full," Danny quickly replied, pointing to the golf cart they'd commandeered.
The officer laughed, finding some satisfaction in the situation.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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