Chapter 101: Bringing Fletcher-Walker Back to Headquarters
“It’s simple enough.”
Mona’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she read from the information on her screen.
“Fletcher Walker. No record of drunk driving, no record of fighting, no criminal record of any kind.
“In school, he was one of the popular boys, and he once played quarterback.
“He went to an ordinary community college. After graduation, he married his wife and took a job working on the New York docks.
“Oh, and his wife was the girlfriend he dated back when he was quarterback in high school.
“She was the only woman Fletcher ever dated, his first and his last.
“The two of them had an excellent marriage. Their neighbors never heard them quarrel, and every weekend the couple volunteered at a nearby church.”
After hearing Mona’s explanation, Roan scratched his head, while Ryder wore a look of stunned disbelief.
“No wonder you said this guy was a boy scout.”
Lacey studied the information on the screen and nodded in admiration.
“There are very few men like that!”
Most ordinary community colleges in America were not exactly known for their discipline and restraint.
“So why would this Fletcher go to a strip club?”
Roan rubbed his chin and thought for a moment before tilting his head and asking,
“If Fletcher’s outward image isn’t fake, does that mean something happened at home?”
“I still can’t tell whether Fletcher’s outward image is genuine or just an act.”
Mona tilted her head and gave Roan a look, then said seriously, pointing at the information on the computer screen,
“According to the file, four months ago Fletcher’s wife was hit by a car on her way home from work and died at the scene.
“According to her friends and family, at the funeral Fletcher did not cry or show any grief. He was extremely calm while receiving guests.
“Because of that, his wife’s sister slapped him, and Fletcher’s relatives and friends also said they had misjudged him.”
At that, Ryder’s brow furrowed at once, Lacey muttered a curse under her breath, and Roan fell into thought.
Could it be that...
“So, are we going to arrest this hypocrite next?”
Lacey looked up at Roan.
Mona kept typing.
“After the funeral, Fletcher was fired by the New York docks, but he still had a mortgage and car loan to pay every month.
“Surveillance footage from outside the community where Fletcher lives shows that before the first four bank robberies, Fletcher left home carrying a bag.
“After all four robberies were over, Fletcher came back home carrying that same bag.”
Now Lacey and Ryder could no longer sit still. They both turned to Roan.
“Okay. Let’s go have a talk with Mr. Fletcher.”
Seeing his teammates looking at him, Roan rose with a slight tug at the corner of his mouth, then headed to the armory with Ryder, who was insistent on joining the operation.
Lacey stayed behind with Investigation Group Five.
The black SUV tore down the road through the flow of traffic. Watching the scenery outside the window streak by, Ryder grinned.
But after only a few seconds, seeing the vehicle’s speed seem to increase again, he twitched at the corner of his mouth. After a long silence, he turned his head and said quietly,
“Roan, I don’t think we need to be in that much of a hurry.
“Mona just told me the community cameras show Fletcher hasn’t left his house in a week. There’s a very good chance he’s still inside.”
“I know that.”
Roan smiled and shook his head, while pressing harder on the gas so the SUV surged past a light blue Buick ahead of them.
“Do I look like I’m in a hurry?”
Ryder: “...”
As Ryder silently tightened his seat belt, the black SUV quickly left Manhattan behind and sped into Queens, where Fletcher lived.
Fletcher’s home was a detached two-story house with a small lawn in front and another in back.
Roan slowed the SUV to a stop at the curb. After they got out and saw that the house had both a front and back entrance, the two exchanged a glance. Ryder decisively turned and headed for the rear door.
Once Ryder had taken up position at the back of the house with his Glock 18, Roan did not hesitate. He put on his helmet, grabbed the Glock 18, and strode toward the front door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Standing at the side of the doorway, Roan banged hard on the front door and shouted,
“Anyone home?”
The house remained dead silent, as if no one were inside.
“Roan!”
Just as Roan was about to knock again, Ryder suddenly came over.
“Hm?”
Seeing the question on Roan’s face, Ryder shrugged and pointed toward the second floor.
“There’s a triangular ladder at the back of the house. I climbed up to take a look just now, and there’s a man in the upstairs bedroom who looks like he may have passed out.”
“Okay.”
Hearing that, Roan wasted no more time and kicked the door in.
“FBI!”
The door shattered under the blow. Roan, Glock 18 in hand and already in a combat stance, shouted his warning and checked every room in the house as fast as he could.
Ryder had returned to the back door. Once Roan moved, he began rapidly clearing the rooms as well.
“All clear!”
“All clear!”
After confirming that every room in the house had been searched and no danger remained, Roan and Ryder met at the bedroom door on the second floor.
They exchanged a look, counted down from three, then sprang forward together and rushed inside with their Glock 18s raised.
Inside the bedroom, a bald white man with a somewhat muscular frame lay completely naked on the big bed.
Even after Roan and Ryder kicked in the door and burst in, the bald man did not move at all.
If Roan had not seen his chest rising and falling, he would have thought the man was dead.
Roan examined the bald man’s broad face carefully and confirmed that he was indeed the Fletcher they had come for.
Near the nightstand by the bed sat a small bag filled with white powder.
“Roan.”
Seeing this, Ryder twitched at the corner of his mouth. Without touching it, he simply called Roan over and pointed it out.
“Got it.”
At the sight of the bag of white powder, Roan nodded calmly, then reached out and slapped Fletcher hard across the face.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The crisp, sharp slaps rang through the bedroom, making Ryder wince.
Yesterday Yvonne had apparently done the same thing to him.
Violent wake-up service was highly effective. Fletcher came to very quickly.
Seeing Roan’s unfamiliar, handsome face, Fletcher rubbed his eyes and mumbled,
“Who... are you? Why are you... in my house?”
“We’re the FBI.”
Roan smiled faintly and waved the Glock 18 in front of Fletcher’s eyes.
“We came here because we have something to talk to you about.”
“The FBI?!”
At Roan’s words, Fletcher jolted all over and his eyes widened in an instant. He got up at once, rushed off the bed, and tried to run out of the bedroom.
And then...
His legs gave out, and he collapsed right onto the floor.
Watching Fletcher wriggle weakly across the bedroom floor, Roan and Ryder both shook their heads in speechless frustration.
White powder had that effect. Once the rush was over, a person felt utterly exhausted.
But to the point where Fletcher could barely walk...
“You took a little too much this time.”
After having Ryder bring Fletcher into the SUV, Roan began a quick search of the house.
He checked the living room, the kitchen, and the basement, even examining the floorboards carefully, but there was no sign of the cash he had expected to find.
After thinking for a few seconds, Roan returned to the bedroom and took a fresh look around.
He found nothing useful in the wardrobe or under the bed, but beneath the TV stand he did manage to find several notebooks.
He opened one at random. Roan had been indifferent a moment ago, but upon seeing the contents, his pupils contracted sharply.
“Roan!”
Hearing Ryder call him, Roan did not hesitate. He immediately grabbed the notebooks and returned to the SUV.
Ryder was in the back seat, keeping a tight grip on the increasingly groggy Fletcher. When he saw Roan return with several notebooks, his face filled with confusion.
“What are those?”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
Roan’s expression turned grave. He floored the accelerator, and the black SUV shot forward like a bolt of lightning.
The End.