American Detective: Starting as a Rookie Cop in an American TV Show

Chapter 1315: Detective Doudou's Choice
"What game are you playing?" Jack looked curious and smiled like a silly boy.

"Get out of here! The NYPD is here!" This time it was Stiles' turn to have sweat on his forehead. He didn't know Jack, but the series of accidents made him extremely flustered, and he seemed a little timid at this moment.

The smile on Jack's face grew wider. He stretched out his left hand and opened a book of documents in front of him. "What a coincidence, isn't it? We are the FBI."

Before he finished speaking, footsteps were heard on the stairs of the apartment. As the fire door opened, Clay and Aubrey appeared in the hallway with the dejected Doyle, followed by the frightened Wheeler father and son.

If Stiles didn't realize that his conspiracy had been completely exposed after seeing this scene, he would be really stupid. He tried to hide behind the pillar and pushed Robinson in front as a cover.

"Let me go, or this guy will be buried with me."

There was a muffled sound of "bang", and Reese knocked Renault down with a clean move, pointing the gun at Stiles' head, "Let him go, you may still have a chance to survive."

At this time, the door of the apartment was opened and the siren sounded only once as if just a greeting, but the red and blue police lights flashed in the dimly lit apartment hallway, adding to the tense atmosphere.

"Let him go, Stiles." Danny Reagan strode into the hallway, the flashing police lights at the door coming from his old Ford plainclothes police car.

"No, no, no, this is wrong. How did you know?" Stiles, who recognized Danny, was a little incredulous.

He subconsciously looked at Reese, who had claimed to be a private investigator. "You called the FBI? Right? You followed me? Do you know you are dead? Your family, your friends, all of you will die. HR will not let you go."

Stiles' expression gradually became crazy, and the muzzle of the gun was shaking, slowly pointing at his head.

“Family, friends, these things were all forgotten by me. I once thought that I could care nothing and travel all over the world to deal with those bad guys.

But in the end, I found that there were too many garbage like you at my doorstep. "

In response to Reese's words, a gunshot rang out. Stiles didn't even listen to what he was saying and pulled the trigger directly to his own temple.

Robinson, who was being held hostage by him, was so scared that he sat down on the ground. Wheeler, who was not far away, quickly reached out and covered his son's eyes.
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Diane Hansen, who walked into the office early in the morning, seemed a little uneasy. She took out her mobile phone from time to time to take a look. Finally, she couldn't help it and manually entered a string of phone numbers and sent a text message.

A text message alert sounded at the door. She shuddered and looked up subconsciously, only to find that her office door had been pushed open without her noticing.

Her two colleagues, Irene Regan and Vann Wheeler, stood at the door with serious faces. Wheeler was holding a mobile phone in his hand, and the screen was showing the text message that Hansen had just sent, "Stiles, reply to me as soon as possible!"

"I think you have a lot to explain to us, Ms. Hansen." Irene half-moved aside, and Jiejie and Hannah, who were waiting behind her, walked into the office and showed her handcuffs.

Almost at the same time, in the parking lot on the side of the NYPD building, Lionel Fusco was walking towards his private car in a daze.

He didn't even remember how he got home yesterday. Until now, his mind was filled with Director Reagan's intimidating face and disappointed eyes.

If there is anything more terrifying than being a corrupt cop and being caught red-handed by the top officer, it is probably being speechless in the face of his series of questions, right?
Detective Doudou is just a nobody, no matter in NYPD or the "HR" organization he joined not long ago. Stiles handed the man in suit to him, not out of trust, but to force him to hand in his "letter of surrender". If you want to be a bad cop, you have to have some blood on your hands that can't be washed off.

That was why Fusco had few answers to Frank Reagan's questions.

How deeply "HR" is hidden in the NYPD, how big its scale is, and whether other judicial institutions are involved besides the District Attorney's Office and the prison system are all things that he, a newcomer, cannot know.

However, facing the hesitant Lionel Fusco, Director Reagan did not say anything, but just nodded and signaled that he could "get out".

After returning home and lying in bed, Fusco hardly slept all night. In the morning, after the briefing with red eyes, he looked at the door of the conference room countless times, imagining that a senior superintendent of "IA" (Internal Affairs) in a white uniform would push the door open and walk in.

However, nothing happened until the end of the morning briefing. There was no white uniform, and no sign of Stiles or the men who usually hung out with him.

But Fusco was still uneasy. Finally, he couldn't stand the torture of waiting to die in the office anymore, so he asked for sick leave from his immediate boss and planned to stay at home.

However, when he walked into the parking lot, just opened the car door and got in, a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Are you ready to work for me, Officer Fusco?" Reese's voice was deep and hoarse, very recognizable.

Hearing this voice, Detective Doudou felt as if a huge rock had finally fallen from his heart. However, when he thought of his own troubles and the expression on the director's face when he looked at him yesterday, his heart began to hang in the air again.

"I'm no longer useful to you. I'm doomed. Even Director Reagan has given up on me. No one can save me. Someone from HR will come after me sooner or later. Or maybe it'll be the Internal Affairs Department. I heard they have people in there, too."

Reese certainly knew what he was thinking, "No one except us knew you were involved, and it's all been dealt with. What 'HR' are you talking about? They should still be busy looking for Stiles right now.

Word soon got out that he was put into the witness protection program.”

Detective Doudou looked back at Reese, his eyes full of suspicion, "Really? He was included in WPP?"

"Of course it's fake, his body is in your trunk right now, he shot himself in the head in front of us last night.

Of course, we gave him a choice, and he chose this ending. Now it's up to you to choose."

Fusco opened his mouth slightly, and after a long while he angrily said, "Don't talk like I have a choice. What do you need me to do? Help you deal with HR, right?"

Reese's lips curled up slightly. "I'll have to trouble you to drive to Oyster Bay again. How about we talk slowly on the way?"

(End of this chapter)