Danny wiped his greasy hands on his shirt before snatching the list from Mike Taylor's hands. Realizing he might've been a bit rude, he handed over the last slice of pizza with a sheepish smile.
Mike chuckled and accepted the offering without complaint. They all knew time was tight, and none of them had stopped to eat since the evidence came in.
"I already did a preliminary check for you. Of the three people on the list, one has a reachable phone number. That person is a UN delegate currently in India and said the doll is with her daughter. As for the other two, one has a mailing address, and the other only a name. You'll need to follow up on those yourselves."
CSI had truly come through this time. Jack saw Mike off, grabbed his car keys, and waved them at Danny. "Let's check out the address first. We can assign the name to our team for follow-up."
Danny handed the list to Jubal, thanked him, and headed out with Jack.
---
In the Dodge Hellcat, Danny sat in the passenger seat, gazing at a photo in his wallet, lost in thought.
"What's up?" Jack, sensing his partner's low spirits, glanced over.
"I keep thinking about that little girl and how terrified she must be, along with her family. I have two sons myself, and I can't help but wonder how it would feel if something like this happened to us."
Danny's fingers brushed over the photo for a moment. But he soon composed himself, a touch of sadness lingering in his voice. "Let's hope this lead pans out."
Jack didn't quite know what to say. His mind wandered, imagining if something similar happened to his friends or loved ones. He felt a creeping sense of inadequacy. His circle of contacts was decent for now, but could be better.
While he tried to avoid troubling Rossi every time, as a senior FBI agent he was already well-connected with the LAPD and NYPD—covering most of his needs. Organized crime was out of the question, given their ties to drugs in the US, but his only gray-area contact was the Wolf brothers—a weak point he noted mentally.
In New York, he figured he'd eventually run into the "Person of Interest" crew, though those guys had a knack for attracting trouble. Befriending them might be a bit much for his current position.
Within the FBI, his authority was still somewhat limited; he'd need to reach the rank of Special Agent-in-Charge, like Hotchner, to gain more autonomy. Besides, all he really knew about the dark side of law enforcement, apart from Rossi's intel, came from a passing mention of the "Bay Harbor Butcher" case in Miami—a serial killer only hinted at as the main character in Dexter, a blood analyst at Miami Metro who secretly hunted other killers.
With a bit of luck, Jack thought he might be able to earn some time off by August. Though he'd need to find a good excuse to slip away alone; after all, his fiancée probably wouldn't be thrilled about him spending time with a killer who dismembers criminals for fun.
Lost in thought, they soon arrived at a Brooklyn apartment building.
"Hold on, I've got a call." Danny's phone rang just as they stepped out of the car, and he gestured for Jack to wait.
In no rush, Jack took out two slim cigars, offering one to Danny. He hadn't had one of these in a while, and Miami might be a good place to stock up since it was close to Cuba.
"I just realized… aren't you too busy to buy the barbecue for Sunday's dinner?" Danny didn't lower his voice, so Jack could clearly hear the familiar voice on the other end—it was one he'd heard that afternoon.
"You're calling about barbecue, or trying to get an update on the case, Dad?" Danny leaned in to light his cigar from Jack's lighter, puffing out a cloud of fragrant smoke.
"As your superior, I hope you understand that I'll provide any resources necessary, including but not limited to FBI assistance," the Commissioner replied from the other end.
Danny's face split into a grin—clearly pleased—but he still tried to look professional for Jack. "I'm grateful, sir. We're currently..."
He went over the case progress and their latest findings. By the time he hung up, his expression showed that his father, and superior, was quite pleased with the case's direction.
"Your dad?" Jack asked knowingly.
"Yup, the old man calling to boost morale." Danny took another drag on the cigar, savoring it with the zeal of a seasoned smoker. He was probably one of those guys who had to sneak one out on the balcony at home.
It was interesting to Jack. In old American shows, cops smoking was commonplace, but since the early 2000s, especially after 2010, American TV cops had fewer smoking scenes. Paradoxically, they could be portrayed using drugs, even hard substances, but rarely cigarettes. It was absurd.
In Jack's experience, the LAPD had been mostly smoke-free. Only John and Tim would occasionally join him for a cigar during backyard barbecues, but none of the others smoked.
The FBI was another story. Reid was a no-go, but even model agents like Hotchner, who otherwise avoided vices, would readily accept a cigar on a late-night case alongside the ever-present coffee. If women were around, the guys would find a vented room or head to the fire escape to avoid the discomfort.
Jack had also caught Emily and JJ sneaking a cigarette on occasion. There was something oddly vintage about them, with red lipstick and cigarettes—a bit of that Marilyn Monroe allure from Hollywood's golden age.
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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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