Chapter 39: The Unlicensed Cab

Jimmy quickly arrived at Summerfield and found Das Morrow. Morrow let Jimmy inside and then pointed out a van parked on the side of the street through the window.

"That's the one, the van parked by the road. I haven't seen anyone go near it; perhaps I just happened to miss them whenever someone was around."

"Okay, I'll go take a look."

Jimmy turned and walked out toward the van.

It was a medium-sized box truck, the kind frequently seen in movies, similar in size to a roadside food truck. There was no one in the driver's seat. Jimmy examined the exterior of the cargo box; it wasn't very dusty. He walked to the rear of the van and knocked on the door. The sound was dull—certainly much duller than the echo one would get from knocking on an empty shipping container.

Jimmy canvassed the neighboring houses to see if anyone knew anything about the vehicle. Unfortunately, no one knew when it had been parked there or who the driver was, and no one in the area had installed security cameras. Based on what they said, it could be inferred that the van had likely been parked there on the night three days ago without attracting attention. No one had found it strange at the time, but the fact that it remained unclaimed after three days had finally aroused their suspicion.

Jimmy returned to his patrol car and used the radio to contact the dispatch center to run the license plate. Dispatch reported back that the plate was fake.

This was awkward. A van, a fake plate, and no owner—even if he impounded the vehicle, he wouldn't know whom to notify.

Jimmy thought for a moment and then walked over to Frank Moses’ house. Perhaps Frank would know something. After all, by his own conjecture, if anyone here were to know the situation regarding this van, Frank, the former operative, was the most likely candidate.

Jimmy had bad luck; he knocked several times but received no response. It seemed no one was home.

Jimmy called Sheriff Kagg directly. Kagg instructed him to contact the impound lot and leave an impound notice at the scene.

Jimmy complied, sticking the impound notice onto a wooden fence by the road, noting his contact information and the reason for the impoundment. If anyone saw it, they could contact him to process the paperwork. However, the prospects were slim; using a fake plate meant that the person claiming the vehicle would also face charges for forgery, along with the impoundment, fines, and detention.

After contacting the impound lot to have someone come and tow the van, Jimmy returned to Morrow, informed him of the outcome, and left.

That afternoon, Jimmy received a report from the impound lot: the inside of the van contained only a pile of packing crates and wooden pallets used for bracing cargo. There was no actual merchandise inside, and no vehicle registration or shipping documents were found in the cab. It was essentially a "black" vehicle.

Jimmy had a hunch that it might be related to Frank, and that the cargo had likely been offloaded.

Since he couldn't find the owner, he decided to just treat it as an abandoned vehicle. If no one claimed it after a certain period, these illicit vehicles would be disposed of through standard procedures.

In the evening, Jimmy went to Summerfield again. Frank was still not home, so he tucked his business card into the door frame and left.

Regardless of whether the van belonged to Frank, it was necessary to confirm. Jimmy suspected Frank was a secret agent, and if that were combined with a van full of equipment, any incident would surely be a major one. In the past, Jimmy would have stayed as far away as possible, but now that he possessed a "cheat code," he suddenly found his quiet life too boring.

Once people suddenly acquire certain abilities or come into sudden wealth, they often do strange things. For example, in comic books, many mutants ended up in tragedy after suddenly gaining powers.

Jimmy’s current mindset was somewhat similar to theirs. He had been an ordinary police officer, but after gaining new abilities, he felt a bit of a violent urge. Fortunately, he had no impulse to commit crimes; he just found handling ordinary cases unexciting, merely going through the motions of standard procedure.

However, Jimmy was also quite lucky. The crime rate in all of Arkansas was relatively low compared to the national average in the United States. Of course, this was mainly because Arkansas was relatively poor and sparsely populated. According to 2019 data, the state population was 3 million, with an average of 21.8 people per square kilometer; in 2003, the population was 2.7 million.

Little Rock, the capital of Arkansas and the county seat of Pulaski County, had a population of 160,000 in 2019. Including North Little Rock and the surrounding six counties that made up the metropolitan area, the total was 740,000.

For comparison, Beijing's Tiantongyuan, one of Asia's largest residential areas, had 645 apartment buildings and a permanent population of 700,000, covering an area of about 8 square kilometers.

The vast land area and sparse population created the residential characteristics of Arkansas: completely dispersed. Except for the slightly higher population density in the center of the metropolitan area, the surrounding towns were mostly on the scale of a few hundred people, and beyond that, it was mostly farms and forests. It would not be an exaggeration to describe it as sparsely populated and vast.

In such an environment, the probability of violent crime was naturally much lower than in densely populated, economically developed regions. For the police, the cases handled were mostly various violations and infractions; high-danger scenarios were rare.

The life of a county deputy was dull. Jimmy had considered taking a trip to the surrounding areas during his next rotation. Hot Springs, not far from Little Rock, had the Hot Springs National Park—likely one of the smallest national parks in the country. The main activities there were soaking in hot springs and enjoying the mountains.

Jimmy was single, and since he had nothing else to do, he decided to go on a whim. When his day off came, he hopped in his car and drove over.

Hot Springs was about an hour’s drive from Little Rock, located to the southwest. The National Park was just north of the city. It didn't have a traditional "entrance"; it was small, only 22 square kilometers, with dozens of natural hot springs. However, all the natural springs had been covered by hotels, so one couldn't just find a spring and jump in for a bath.

Hot Springs was part of Hot Springs County, though the county seat was not in Hot Springs, but in Malvern to the east.

The hotels in Hot Springs were expensive. For a poor man like Jimmy, staying in a hotel on the weekend was completely unacceptable. He was actually there for hiking. The national park had a history of over a hundred years, with very complete trails and public facilities, well-established hiking routes, and beautiful scenery.

There weren't many tourists on the weekend—or rather, the "sea of people" seen in places like China was rare throughout the world. Jimmy found a public parking lot, parked his car, and picked up a free map at the visitor center. Following the receptionist's advice, he filled his canteen with drinkable spring water, shouldered his pack, and headed up the mountain along the marked hiking trails.