James Richard knelt on the floor, his hands cuffed behind his back, while Danny loomed over him. "Where's Dick Reed?" Danny growled impatiently.
"I don't know! I'll sue you for police brutality!" James snapped, his neck stiff with defiance.
"Police brutality? Do you have any witnesses?" Danny sneered, slamming his fist into James's stomach, doubling him over like a shrimp. A few more punches followed as Danny vented his frustration.
To their surprise, despite Danny's physical onslaught, James Richard remained defiant, refusing to utter a word.
Jack, who had initially intended to escort the terrified Becky Swartz out of the room, noticed the fiery hatred in her gaze as she stared at James. An idea formed in his mind. Kneeling beside her, he whispered softly, "Do you want to get rid of your nightmares?"
Becky looked at him in confusion before following his gaze to the knife lying on the ground.
"He's a Dick Reed wannabe," Jack continued in a calm, low voice. "A worthless loser trying to become the next Reed by recreating what you suffered on other innocent women. Just yesterday, a girl in Columbia Park fell victim to his twisted desires."
Danny's eyes widened in shock as he realized where Jack was going with this.
Becky suddenly broke free from Jack's grasp, snatched the knife from the ground, and pointed it tremblingly at James Richard, who began to panic.
"No! No! You can't do this!" James screamed, struggling futilely against his cuffs.
"Think about the fear, the helplessness, and the pain you endured," Jack said, his tone calm but deliberate. "Dick Reed and this pathetic copycat are cowards, weaklings. They're trash who hide in the shadows, trembling with fear, and only dare to prey on the vulnerable to satisfy their perverse urges. They're not as scary as you think. All you need to do is face them, and you'll see that for yourself."
Becky's trembling hand steadied as the knife edged closer to James's groin. His screams grew shriller, his terror palpable.
"Stop! Please! Don't! Nooooo!" James howled as the knife pierced his flesh ever so slightly. The wound was shallow, drawing more urine than blood, and the overwhelming stench filled the room.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" James shrieked. "He wants revenge! He's already got a new target! Please, stop her! He said he wasn't interested in her anymore—he gave her to me! Please, make her stop!"
Jack gently placed his hand over Becky's, his gaze soft and understanding. "That's enough. You've won—you've conquered your nightmare."
Becky let out a guttural cry, dropping the knife as she collapsed into Jack's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
Twenty minutes later, two patrol officers arrived to take James Richard into custody. Meanwhile, Danny called his partner, Jackie, to temporarily stay with Becky Swartz. The girl seemed much calmer now, even managing a faint smile of gratitude as she looked back at Jack and Danny.
With time and perhaps some reconstructive surgery to remove the scars on her face, Becky could finally move forward and embrace a new life.
"I thought you were really going to let her castrate him," Danny said, laughing as he and Jack bumped fists.
"Too much is as bad as too little. Helping her face her fears is enough. If she went through with it, who knows? We might've ended up creating a female serial killer who targets men." Jack's comment wasn't entirely a joke—he'd seen similar storylines in crime dramas.
"Is Eileen okay?" Despite overhearing Danny's earlier call with his sister, Jack couldn't shake his unease.
James Richard had mentioned Dick Reed wanted revenge. While the judge who sentenced him was a man, it seemed more likely that his target would be Eileen, the prosecutor who helped convict him. Of course, there was also the possibility he'd go after his own sister, whom they had rescued earlier. To cover all bases, Danny had already assigned officers to protect Reed's sister at the hospital.
"Eileen's still working late at the office. Dad said he'd pick her up at 8 to have dinner together. She was thrilled to hear Becky Swartz agreed to testify again and told me to thank you. The only issue now is figuring out where that bastard Reed is," Danny said, his expression darkening as he mulled over their next steps.
"Do you really think Becky Swartz still needs to testify?" Jack said, his tone carrying a subtle suggestion.
Danny froze, glancing around nervously to ensure no one else had overheard. After a moment, he muttered, "Whatever the case, we still need to find him first."
"Well, it's your turn to put that brain of yours to work. I'm heading to the courthouse," Jack said. Something about Eileen working alone this late didn't sit right with him. It was already past office hours, and while the courthouse had security, it was a massive building—slipping in unnoticed wasn't impossible.
The two parted ways. Danny headed back to the precinct, while Jack revved up his Hellcat and sped off toward the courthouse. To his surprise, he ran into a visibly tense Frank Reagan at the entrance.
"What's going on?" Jack asked, puzzled. Danny had said Frank planned to pick up Eileen at 8, but it was barely past 7.
"Something's off," Frank said grimly. "I can't get through to Eileen's cell phone. Her office landline just called my phone, but there was no sound on the other end. The line's still connected." He held up his phone, showing the active call as he hurried up the courthouse steps.
Jack glanced at the police guard Frank had left by his car, hesitating briefly before following him inside.
The District Attorney's office was accessible via the courthouse's side entrance, requiring them to pass through two hallways. The guards at the entrance recognized Frank immediately and allowed them in without question.
At first glance, everything seemed normal. But as they reached the first hallway, Jack's instincts kicked in. He sniffed the air, his nose picking up a faint metallic scent. Grabbing Frank's arm, he pushed open a nearby door.
Inside was a janitor's supply closet, and on the floor lay a corpse. The man's throat had been slashed, and blood pooled around his lifeless body. The sharp scent of iron filled the room.
"He must've been a janitor. Someone took his uniform and ID," Jack said quietly, his voice steady despite the grim discovery.
Frank's expression darkened. He nodded silently, drawing his service weapon—a Colt Detective Special revolver, the kind you'd only see in old movies.
"You're kidding, right?" Jack stared incredulously at the antique. "That thing's got to be at least 30, maybe 40 years old. If it's a first-gen model, it's practically a museum piece!"
"It was my grandfather's. Reliable as ever," Frank replied curtly. Holding the revolver, he moved cautiously down the hallway.
Jack shook his head in disbelief but pulled out his Glock 22 and began advancing along the opposite side, ears straining for any sounds.
As they reached the second hallway, they saw Eileen's office at the far end. Just before her office was a shared workspace where her secretary's desk was located, functioning as a reception area.
The space was eerily empty. On the floor lay a pair of high heels and a handbag, scattered haphazardly. Frank's face grew even grimmer as Jack knelt to inspect the bag. Inside, he found Eileen's phone, set to silent mode.
"Not a good sign," Jack murmured.