Chapter 50: The Number of Acquaintances Is Growing

Jimmy was not a native American and had never attended such a barbecue party before. He arrived much too early. Normally, if no specific time was given, the host would prepare the ingredients and grill in the afternoon, and guests would arrive around dusk. Jimmy, however, arrived a little past one o'clock in the afternoon, leaving Frank with no choice but to chat with Jimmy while carrying on with his own preparations.

Frank told Jimmy to go ahead and make himself comfortable. Jimmy lay down under a patio umbrella and fell asleep shortly afterwards. Being a police officer is actually very tiring; the crucial part is that during duty, one's nerves must remain tightly strained. Accidents happening to American police officers while on duty are far too common, and a single moment of carelessness can lead to trouble, injury, or even death.

Finding that Jimmy had fallen asleep, Frank stopped paying attention to him, returned to the kitchen, and began organizing the ingredients for the upcoming barbecue.

It was two hours later when Jimmy woke up. It was still spring, and the temperature was moderate. Jimmy opened his eyes sleepily and, after taking in his surroundings, remembered that he wasn't at home, but rather a guest at Frank's place.

Only someone as carefree as Jimmy could fall asleep while being a guest at someone else's house; that was simply too impolite. Jimmy got up and happened to see Frank carrying ingredients out to the backyard. He walked over to help carry some of them and placed them next to the grill.

"Sorry, Frank, I've been a bit overworked lately."

"No worries. It seems being a cop really isn't an easy job."

"Yeah, twelve-hour patrol shifts every day are truly exhausting. But there's no help for it; the county sheriff's department only has so many people, so we can't schedule too many shifts. Have your friends arrived yet?"

"They should be here soon. I'll go check the front."

Frank walked back into the house and headed out front. After a while, he brought an old man inside.

Jimmy took one look and—oh, he recognized him. He had just run into him on the road a few days ago: the park ranger.

"Hey, Jimmy, this is Pat, Pat Bright. Pat, this is Jimmy, Jimmy Yang, a Pulaski County deputy."

"Hey, Pat, nice to meet you. The cargo you hauled the other day was fine, right?"

"Of course. And thanks again for the reminder. Thank you."

Frank went back into the house while Jimmy and Pat organized the ingredients, getting ready to start the barbecue.

"Pat, is Green Ridge Mountain fun? I haven't been there yet," Jimmy said, making small talk with Pat.

"Sure, it's great for both camping and hiking. Just watch out for the wild boars deep in the woods."

"How long have you been a ranger?"

"Quite a few years. I'm getting older and can't do my old job anymore, so I just had to find something easier."

"Are there many people on your side? I mean rangers."

"No, the budget is bad. There are only a few rangers in total, managing dozens of square kilometers of mountain forests. Mostly it's just pointing people in the right direction and occasionally doing patrols."

"That's not too bad, pretty relaxed." Jimmy didn't really know what else to say, so the two of them chatted idly back and forth while prepping the chops and vegetables, skewering them onto steel rods. Frank had already marinated them in advance, so once skewered, the grilling could begin shortly.

Frank brought over four or five people.

"Jimmy, these are my neighbors. They came over together."

Jimmy took a look—ah, they were all surrounding neighbors. He had visited once or twice before and had some vague recollection of these people. Everyone greeted one another.

It was completely normal for these people to remember Jimmy. There were only four county deputies responsible for this area, and for the past period, it had consistently been this young Asian guy. As long as one had seen him, it was basically impossible to forget him quickly.

In rural parts of America like this, people saw very few faces day-to-day. A village only had one or two hundred residents, and since everyone ran into each other constantly, they were bound to be familiar.

No one remained idle; they all stepped in to help out with the barbecue. Holding beers while chatting and flipping the food, the people of the South were generally warm and showed no discrimination toward Jimmy, a Chinese-American they had only met a few times, pulling him right into their circle of conversation.

Just as Frank was busy, his cell phone suddenly rang. He answered the call, walked outside, and when he returned, he brought another person with him.

Jimmy looked up and was instantly stunned. Sylvester Stallone! He definitely recognized this man; in the movies he watched growing up, Stallone was synonymous with tough guys. Stallone looked to be only around fifty years old at the time; compared to the later *The Expendables*, he was still relatively young here.

Frank didn't bother with introductions. He simply led Stallone to the side, grabbed two bottles of beer, and started chatting. There were quite a few people in the backyard, so it was impossible to hear what they were talking about.

Jimmy nudged Pat and motioned toward where Frank and the other man were standing. Pat glanced over and said to Jimmy, "That's Barney, an old friend of Frank's. I haven't seen him in a long time either. Come on, let's keep drinking."

Jimmy tapped his beer bottle against Pat's and took a sip. At that moment, his own phone rang.

"Sheriff James, what's going on?"

"Jimmy, get to the precinct right away. Bring your gear, we have an emergency assignment."

"What about the others?"

"I've already notified Cagg and the rest. They're all on their way back."

"Understood, I'm heading back to the precinct immediately."

Jimmy hung up the phone. Disregarding the fact that Frank was still chatting away over there, he walked right over.

"Hey, Frank, something's come up at the precinct. I need to head back right now. Sorry, I have to cut it short today."

"Alright, go ahead if you've got business. I'll call you over for the next get-together."

Jimmy waved goodbye, then went out, got into his car, and drove back to the precinct.

Half an hour later, Jimmy arrived back at the station. The members of the other squads had already arrived, and Jimmy also spotted a man wearing an FBI ballistic vest.

"The FBI agent will now brief us on the case."

The FBI agent pulled out two photographs. One showed a young Mexican-American man who was somewhat chubby, of indeterminate height, with short, curly black hair. The other photograph showed a white Ford F-150 pickup truck.

"Three days ago, a murder took place in Memphis, Tennessee. Eighteen-year-old Johnny Santiago murdered his biological father and fled in a Ford F-150.

"The last surveillance cameras in Memphis captured him escaping westward. Based on investigations along the route, we have reason to believe that Johnny has not yet left Little Rock.

"LRPD has already been notified, and I am now requesting the county sheriff's department to patrol around Little Rock, watch out for this suspect, and report immediately upon spotting him.

"Please be advised: the suspect is carrying at least one handgun and one M14 rifle. Both firearms belonged to his father and are currently missing from his home; we have strong reason to believe the suspect is carrying them on his person.

"The suspect's father was a police officer with ten years of service. According to witness testimonies, the suspect practiced shooting with his father since childhood. Please treat him as a high-risk suspect—his marksmanship may be extremely accurate. Everyone, stay safe."

The agent took several photos from his bag, distributed them to Jimmy and the others, and then pulled out a map to begin assigning patrol sectors.

Seeing that everyone had received their materials, Sheriff James spoke up: "Folks, you are facing an armed homicide suspect. Protecting yourselves is paramount. Report the suspect immediately upon sighting him; we have a large number of brothers deployed all around the city and can provide rapid backup. Everyone, go draw an M16 rifle for self-defense—shotguns offer zero advantage against an M14. Especially you, Jimmy, you know what I'm going to say."

"Yes, sir!"

Jimmy went to the breakroom to change into his uniform and gear, drew his patrol equipment, and headed out. The other deputies dispersed toward their respective assigned areas.