"Play the bad cop this time," Danny said, pointing at Jack as they approached the interrogation room. Jack froze, nearly bursting into laughter.
"Are you sure?" Jack wanted to grab a mirror and hold it up to Danny's face. The whole good cop, bad cop routine involved one officer playing nice while the other played tough—but asking this perpetually stern-faced guy to be the nice one felt hilariously off.
"I'm serious," Danny said, noticing Jack's skeptical look. "Like I mentioned, I visited the Talley brothers' mother yesterday. I think she's a good starting point for a breakthrough."
"Fine, your call," Jack said, tucking the file under his arm and rubbing his face to pull off a menacing look.
When they entered the interrogation room, Jack walked in first, tossed the file onto the table, and sat down across from Mark Talley. His cold, unblinking stare bore into the man without a word.
Mark Talley, despite being African American, was the picture of a Wall Street elite. He wore a tailored suit, polished leather shoes, a diamond-studded tie clip—every detail screamed upper-class success.
"Uh, thank you for coming, Mr. Talley," Danny said as he closed the door behind him. He gestured to Jack.
"This is FBI Special Agent Jack Tavor."
Mark Talley, already uneasy under Jack's icy gaze, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What does my brother's death have to do with the FBI?"
Jack slid a photograph across the table toward him. "We've identified your brother's killer—Raymundo Salazar, leader of the Elmar cartel. You don't have anything to say about that?"
"I... I don't know who this is," Mark said, his facial muscles twitching as he tried to maintain a façade of calm.
His performance was pathetic. Jack could tell immediately that Mark was terrified. No grieving brother would react so nonchalantly upon learning the killer's identity.
"Of course you know who he is. You've been laundering money for the Elmar cartel, haven't you?"
"Absolutely not," Mark protested, forcing a smile as if Jack had just cracked a joke.
"You think I'm here to joke around, Mark? Let's be real—was it your commission on Wall Street that wasn't cutting it, or did you have another reason for getting involved?"
Jack leaned forward, locking eyes with Mark, who squirmed under the pressure. Danny leaned casually against the door, saying nothing but watching intently.
The forced smile vanished from Mark's face, his feigned composure unraveling.
"If you had evidence, you wouldn't just bring the FBI—you'd have the SEC here to revoke my license. You're bluffing," Mark said, attempting to regain control.
Jack glanced at Danny, signaling it was his turn.
"Come on, Mark. No one here is stupid—not us, and certainly not you," Danny said as he leaned forward, bracing himself on the table.
"That guy is a drug lord who killed your brother. David was a good man—no drugs, no cigarettes, not even a drinking problem. Why would Raymundo Salazar do this unless it was because of you?"
When Mark clammed up, crossing his arms in defiance, Jack jumped back in.
"What did you do, Mark? Did you steal money from Raymundo? Hide some evidence and try to blackmail him?"
"Absolutely not!" Mark exclaimed, his face showing the terror of someone who valued his life. "That's Raymundo Salazar we're talking about!"
"So you admit you know him?" Danny asked, jabbing a finger into Mark's shoulder to emphasize his point.
"Your brother, David, was shot three times in the chest in broad daylight. He died in my arms. And you're just going to let that scumbag walk free? You're all your mother has left. Don't you want justice for your brother?"
Mark's face twitched, his eyes darting away as he muttered, "Look, I really don't know why Raymundo Salazar killed my brother."
"You do know—you're just too scared to say it, you coward," Jack sneered.
Mark's face turned red, and after a long pause, he burst out, "I told you—I don't know! If you hadn't told me it was Raymundo Salazar who killed my brother, I wouldn't have even known he was back in New York.
You don't understand—if he finds out I talked, he won't just come after me; he'll come after my mom too. She only has me left. If anything happens to me, she's done for!"
"Calm down, man," Danny said, gripping Mark's shoulder to steady him. "You need to do the right thing. Think about your grieving mother. You were there when I spoke with her yesterday—you saw how devastated she was.
All we need is to know where to find Raymundo Salazar. I'll personally testify that he killed your brother. No one else will know about this—it stays between the three of us. No cameras, no recordings. You can trust us. OK?"
Mark looked from Danny to Jack, his face torn with indecision. After several moments, he clenched his jaw and asked, "You promise?"
"I swear to God," Danny said, raising his right hand.
"Raymundo Salazar has a girlfriend in Harlem—her name is Sylvia. He almost always visits her when he's in New York," Mark admitted, shutting his eyes as if relieved to have unburdened himself.
"Where can we find this Sylvia?" Jack pressed.
"She works at a beauty salon on 125th Street."
—
Three hours later, Jack was sitting in the passenger seat of an old Ford Focus parked on 125th Street in Harlem. Through the large glass window of a beauty salon, he could see a curvaceous Latina busy inside.
"Why does this undercover cop car smell so weird?" Jack asked, rolling down the window to let the muggy air dilute the odd scent of the car's AC.
Danny shrugged, unbothered. "We don't have the FBI's budget. These cars are communal, and during stakeouts, we eat, drink, and... you know, in here."
"Ugh," Jack groaned, his face turning green. "Stop. Next time, we'll use my car. The backseat's cramped, but at least it's clean."
Danny shot him a smug look, as if to say, I told you so.
As they watched the Latina woman clean up and prepare to leave, Jack got out of the car and jogged across the street. He leaned casually against a lamppost near the salon door, waiting.
When Sylvia exited the salon with a designer handbag in hand, Jack walked up and slipped an arm around her waist.
"Sylvia, police. Keep walking," he said, flashing his badge discreetly. The initially startled beauty froze, glancing around nervously.
"I just have a few questions about your boyfriend, Raymundo Salazar. I didn't want to make a scene at the salon, but I've been waiting outside for two hours. You don't want to draw attention, do you?"
Guiding her across the street as though they were a couple, Jack led Sylvia to the Ford.
"I've never heard of Raymundo Salazar," she said indignantly as Jack opened the back door, gesturing for her to get in.
"Get in. I've been respectful so far. Let's keep it that way," Jack said, his firm grip leaving no room for argument.
Sylvia huffed but climbed in, pinching her nose at the car's smell.
"Alright, Sylvia," Danny said from the driver's seat, turning to face her with a photograph. "Let's talk about him—your boyfriend, Raymundo Salazar. Or should I say your 'sugar daddy'?"
"I don't know him," Sylvia said, turning away. Her youthful, lightly made-up face, framed by thick black hair, was stunning.
Danny wasn't swayed. He showed her more photos, including gruesome images of Salazar's victims. "Maybe you recognize some of the people he's killed—this one, burned alive in an oil drum. Or this one, buried alive."
Sylvia didn't flinch, staring out the window as if unbothered. But when Danny pulled out the photo of David Talley's body lying in a pool of blood, she froze.
"And this one? David Talley—killed just yesterday."
Sylvia's expression changed instantly. Her jaw dropped, her face went pale, and tears welled up in her eyes.
Seeing her reaction, Danny and Jack exchanged a knowing glance.
"You know him, don't you?" Jack placed the photo in front of her, making sure she got a good look.
"N-no, I don't," Sylvia stammered, her gaze locked on the image despite her denial.
"Really? Raymundo Salazar shot him three times in the chest last night," Jack said, holding the photo closer. Sylvia instinctively took it, covering her face with one hand as she sobbed.
------------------
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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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