Animal Whisperer: Take Back My Life and Love Chapter 110: The Formal Takeover

Simon stepped forward, presenting the documents signed by Sam in clear view. "Simon, Task Force Leader. I am now officially taking over this case."

"You’re out."

The impact of the case files Nancy had swung caught Jack square in the face, leaving a blossoming red mark. Freshly printed A4 paper could sting like a whip.

"Nancy!" Jack roared, clutching his face in fury. "Is this the etiquette and upbringing you were taught? You’ve thrown it all to the dogs!"

"Oh my... I am so sorry. My hands were shaking from the exhaustion of the investigation, and I lost my grip." Nancy gasped, covering her mouth in mock horror. "You know I’ve been frail and sickly since I was a child. My hands tremble quite often."

Jack felt as if he had thrown a punch into a bale of cotton. "You—"

"Tsk, look at that redness. Should I apply some medicine for you?" Nancy immediately produced a bottle of medicated oil, moving as if to smear it on Jack’s face.

"Stay away!" Jack stumbled back, nearly knocking over a chair. The pungent green liquid swayed just a fraction of an inch from his eyes. "That’s Wind Medicated Oil!"

Simon tossed the task force authorization onto the table in front of Jack. "Don’t get worked up. Nancy is just acting out of concern." He paused, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Much like how your 'concern' led you to arrest the wrong person."

"Wrong person? Don't be ridiculous!" Jack’s voice cracked with disbelief.

He snatched up the files Nancy had thrown, his fingers rifling through the pages with violent haste. With every turn, his face grew darker, until his eyes landed on the document bearing the vivid red official seal—

"Tomb Robbery and Homicide Case – Task Force Leader: Simon."

There it was, in black and white.

"You?! The Task Force Leader?!" Jack’s voice shot up an octave. He gripped the edges of the paper so tightly his knuckles turned white. He looked up, glaring at Simon in pure shock. "Based on what? You’re just a junior officer on temporary loan!"

If Nancy had a tail, it would have been wagging at the ceiling by now. She tilted her head and blinked innocently. "Oh dear... can you not read? Do you need me to read it aloud for you?"

She pointed a finger, tapping emphatically on the name. "Right there. Task Force Leader: Simon. My brother."

She emphasized the last word, making Jack’s chest heave with suppressed rage. Simon held the interrogation room door wide open and made a calm gesture toward the exit. "Please leave. Now."

His gaze was as sharp as a blade. "You no longer have the standing to touch this case. Go home and get some sleep. You’ve had a busy day—even if it was all for nothing."

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Jack surged to his feet, his chair screeching harshly against the floor. He stared Simon down, his face livid, before marching out. Every step sounded like he was trying to shatter the floor tiles.

But as he reached the threshold, Nancy stepped out to block his path.

"You interrogated Errol using insulting language without sufficient evidence," she said, her voice steady and sharp. "Don't you think you owe him a face-to-face apology? Those words went far beyond the scope of a standard interrogation."

Jack crossed his arms and sneered. "Me, apologize? Dream on. Those were merely interrogation tactics."

"Tactics?" Nancy refused to back down. "The initial evidence only suggested Errol should cooperate with the investigation. It did not give you the right to publicly humiliate him by calling him a 'murderer.' Now that the truth is out, is this how a professional 'expert' carries himself?"

"This case now involves the theft of vital cultural relics and the harm of a national treasure of a scholar," Simon added, casually checking his phone. "The leadership reached out five minutes ago for an update. Should I include the footage of your interrogation as part of the case analysis I'm sending over?"

Jack glared at Errol—at the boy's jarring red hair and ripped jeans. His throat worked convulsively, as if he were swallowing shards of glass rather than pride. Bowing his head to a street punk like this felt more degrading than being stripped bare.

Under the weight of their combined stares, Jack finally gave a stiff, ninety-degree bow toward Errol. "...I apologize for my excessive language."

Each word sounded as if it had been wrenched from between his teeth. Jack turned and slammed the door behind him with such force that dust drifted down from the frame. He looked like a tiger that had been defanged—nothing left but a tattered, pathetic coat.

Nancy couldn't help but mutter, "Small talent, big temper."

With the source of his oppression finally gone, Errol looked at the two of them as if they were his only lifeline. "Officer... can I go now? Did you catch the people who hurt my grandfather?"

Simon unlocked the restraints on the interrogation chair.

Nancy nodded gently. "Errol, we’ve identified the suspects as a group of tomb raiders. We have reason to believe they are the ones who harmed him."

She pulled up a photo of the evidence bag on her phone, zooming in on the shopping receipt. She pointed to the "I am sorry" written on the back. "This was your grandfather's final message. I am so sorry for your loss."