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Chapter 1165 - A Close Encounter
🕑 Added 2025-06-08 20:00:04 +0000 UTCAt the hotel front desk, Jackson, the Prosecutor General, requested a room key card. When he handed it over to Jack along with his business card, he once again lowered his voice for a reminder.
“I’ve rented an office downtown for you and your team to work from. Stay at this hotel tonight—everything will be paid for by the DA’s office.
I have only one request: until the truth is uncovered or the killer is caught, this case must remain completely confidential. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to withdraw the request for FBI involvement.
These murders all happened locally, you get what I mean, right?”
“I’ll keep you updated via your personal email,” Jack assured him.
This was one of those unique American cases where out-of-jurisdiction—federal—law enforcement is brought in to investigate major crimes. Even as the state’s top prosecutor, Jackson was walking a fine line. Jack understood that well.
The anxious Prosecutor General even accompanied Jack all the way to the elevator, looking visibly uneasy.
Jack didn’t know how to put the man at ease. It wasn’t like he could just brag about his 100% case-closure rate since he started working.
Since transferring from the BAU team to New York, Jack’s personal data remained classified, but his reputation had already spread widely in law enforcement circles. If the federal system had its own “007,” then Jack would be the undisputed choice.
Early on, those in the know used to compare him to a young David Rossi, but such comparisons had largely disappeared by now.
After all, even Rossi was never described as someone with both brains and brawn. Looking over all the major cases Jack had been involved in, the official reports might credit team effort, but his brilliance was unmistakable.
It was simple: no matter how low-key a person is, if his name constantly appears in every major case report, it says a lot.
Of course, if you asked Jack himself, he might attribute his knack for landing in the middle of big events to some strange cosmic force in this world.
So as long as Jackson wasn’t completely clueless, just a little digging would reveal the formidable reputation of the young agent he’d invited in.
“If you can, send over the relevant files soon. My team will arrive early tomorrow at the latest.” Standing at the elevator, Jack subtly encouraged the man to leave.
The prosecutor seemed to snap out of a trance. “The file for one confirmed victim, Michael Stanton, is ready—I’ll send it to you shortly.”
Just then, the elevator doors opened. Noticing someone already inside, Jackson stopped speaking. He reached out to shake Jack’s hand.
“Thanks again for coming, Agent Jack Tavoller.”
“No problem.” Jack watched the anxious prosecutor walk away, then finally exhaled in relief and stepped into the elevator—only to be immediately surrounded by a delicate, enticing fragrance.
A stunning blonde, at most in her early twenties, with an exceptional figure and flawless makeup, was standing inside, her head bent as she fiddled with her phone. She looked up when Jack entered.
Momentarily caught off guard, she pushed up her round black-rimmed glasses and offered a breathtaking smile. “Which floor?”
Jack was about to press the button but saw she had already extended her hand, so he responded with a polite smile. “Sixteenth floor, thank you.”
The elevator began ascending in silence. Jack felt a gaze on him—someone was sizing him up. He turned to look again at the girl behind him.
He wasn’t in the mood for flirting. First, it wasn’t really his thing—he already had more women around him than he could handle. Even when he wasn’t swamped with work, his phone battery barely lasted a full day. Second, he was on a case—an important one at Zoe’s request. And after last night’s overly passionate reunion with Jane Banner, he was currently in a sort of… monk-like state.
Just because Jack wasn’t interested didn’t mean others weren’t. When she noticed him looking back at her, the blonde bit her seductive pink lips and casually asked, “Busy night?”
“More or less,” Jack nodded, instinctively trying to deduce her identity.
Gucci handbag, full Chanel business suit, hair tied up in an elegant bun—she looked like a successful businesswoman. Maybe a senior white-collar worker at some large firm, or perhaps a personal assistant to some powerful executive.
“Wanna grab a drink later?” she asked, straight to the point.
Jack had been through plenty of situations like this. In fact, this one was relatively reserved—he’d been outright invited to hotel rooms before.
“Sorry, still got a mountain of work to get through. This night’s far from over for me.”
His polite refusal seemed to strike a chord. The girl sighed deeply. “Yeah, same here. The HK and Tokyo futures markets have been killing me lately.”
Clearly, anyone staying at a hotel like this wasn’t short on money. Jack couldn’t help but reflect—just moments ago at the front desk, he’d seen that the cheapest suites started at two thousand dollars a night. He really had to remind himself that he was now, technically, a rich man.
Just then, the elevator dinged and stopped at the 12th floor. Jack courteously stepped aside to let her out.
“Thank you. Good luck tonight,” she said, pulling her Hermès suitcase behind her. She gave him a graceful nod and smile before stepping out.
Once the elevator doors closed, the girl strolled leisurely down the hallway. First, she elegantly removed her glasses. Then, she unbuttoned her shirt to reveal a well-rounded chest wrapped in purple lace.
Finally, she pulled the clip from her bun, tossing her head gently as golden curls cascaded over her shoulders. She stopped in front of a suite, raised her hand, and knocked lightly.
The door opened, revealing a man. The girl—just minutes ago the picture of elegance and poise—had completely transformed. Biting her lip gently, she wrapped her arms around him, her voice now soft and sultry.
“Darling, it’s been too long…”
—
“A female serial killer? Wow! And possibly an escort as well? Tsk, tsk.”
Hearing Jack’s briefing, Aubrey’s fatigue from the red-eye flight vanished instantly, replaced with visible excitement.
“Don’t get too hyped yet. This one’s strictly off the books for now. I called you in because we’ll likely be dealing with some so-called ‘high society’ types. I’ll need your expertise.”
Of all the people Jack knew—apart from Rossi and Angela Lopez’s husband Wesley—Aubrey was probably the only one with sufficient experience in that arena. Even a certain bestselling author didn’t quite measure up.
Of course, more importantly, Aubrey used to be a genuine playboy.
