STATE OF BETRAYAL: A Virgil Jones Mystery (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 2) (23 page)

“Am I?” Augustus Pate picked a
piece of imaginary lint from his sleeve then leaned forward and rested his
forearms on his thighs. He was close enough to touch. “The entire ordeal…it
must have been so very…” he shook his head and let his voice trail away as if
he couldn’t find the proper words. Then an odd transformation took place. He
opened his eyes wide and ran his tongue across his lips. “Tell me, Detective.
What’s it like to be stripped naked and hung from the rafters like you’re being
crucified? Were you afraid? I understand you defecated on the floor. I can only
imagine the pain, the sense of hopelessness and despair, the humiliation and
how that must have...well…you were there, weren’t you? Did you find it
surprising at how little time it took to have so much damage inflicted upon
your person? I have the pictures. Would you like to see them? A little celebratory
trip down memory lane? It might offer you a certain perspective that you seem
to lack. No, no, let me finish if you please. You were off the mark then and
you’re off the mark now. Last time it almost cost you your life. They beat you
senseless and robbed you of your dignity with no more effort than it took to cut
the clothes from your body and hose your pile of
shit
from the floor. Do
you think someone like you can simply walk into my home and question me about
issues you know nothing about? I’m not the one who is delusional, Detective,
you are. I understand you’ve been having conversations with your dead father.
What an experience that must be. Tell me, does he stink yet? Has he rotted
through to his core? Can you smell the stench of his soul? It’s all in your
head,
Virgil.
There are no wrong answers.”

__________

Hector came in through
the back door and heard Pate talking to someone in the study. He listened for a
few moments at the edge of the doorway then stepped inside. When he saw who his
boss was talking to, he pulled out his stun gun and crept into the room, his
eyes locked on Pate, looking for his signal to move.

__________

Pate’s use of his
first name
infuriated Virgil, but he was right about something. Virgil
had
missed the mark. It was the sounds of his footsteps as they walked through his
house. They were identical to the ones he’d heard the day he was kidnapped and
tortured. The rhythm, the length of the stride, the slight shuffle of step were
all precisely the same. “It was you, wasn’t it? I was still blindfolded. I
heard someone walk through the warehouse. I counted your steps.”

Instead of pulling away he tilted
his head and leaned in closer. “Of course it was me. I wouldn’t have missed it
for the world. I think about it every day, just as you do, I’m sure. The
difference is…oh, what’s that saying? One man’s pleasure?”

Virgil saw Pate’s eye shift ever so
slightly and when they did he jumped up from his chair, pulled his gun, grabbed
Pate by the collar of his shirt and pressed the barrel to his forehead. Then he
spun sideways so he could see who was behind him. “Who are you?”

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he
took a step closer and pressed the trigger on the stun gun. Virgil watched a
blue arc skip across the metal contacts, the crackle of the electric current a
sound he hoped never to hear again.

“His name is Hector,” Pate said. “He
works for me. He’s very good at what he does. Very thorough.”

Hector tried to move closer and
when he did Virgil pulled Pate from the chair, got behind him and wrapped his
arm around his neck, his gun now at the side of Pate’s head. The three of them
were moving, circling the group of chairs, keeping their distance from each
other. Virgil tried to move toward the entrance of the room, but Hector blocked
him. Virgil realized that Pate was giving signals to Hector so he spun him
around until they faced each other and stuck the barrel of the gun under his
jaw.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,
Hector,” Virgil said. “First, you’re going to set your little toy down on the
table behind you. Yes, that’s right, that table right there. Good. Now open
your jacket and remove your weapon.”

“Don’t do it Hector,” Pate said.

Virgil pushed the gun up, further
into Pate’s neck. “Shut up.”

“Hector, shoot him.”

“I said shut up.”

“How do you think this is going to
end, Detective? You’re in my home with a gun to my throat. What fantasy of yours
doesn’t end with you either dead or in jail? Hector, shoot him, now!”

Hector had his pistol pointed in
Virgil’s direction, but Virgil kept weaving Pate back and forth blocking his
angle. “I don’t have a shot, boss.”

Murton took three quick steps into
the room, grabbed Hector’s stun gun from the table and then cocked the hammer
on his .45 semi-auto. The sound froze everyone. “I do,” he said. He sidestepped
to his left to remove Virgil from his line of fire. “I’ve never missed from
this distance, Hector, though I guess there’s a first time for everything. Want
to take your chances? How’s it going, Jones-man?”

__________

“It’s going just
fine,”
Virgil said
.
“I’ve
got everything under control.”

“I can see that,” Murton said.
“Hector, drop the gun.”

Hector lowered his weapon then let
it drop on the floor. When he did, Murton walked up behind him, touched the stun
gun to the back of his neck and gave him a jolt. Hector dropped to the ground,
unconscious. “Hey these things pack quite a wallop, don’t they? I might have to
get one.”

Virgil turned Pate around and
pushed him through the French doors and out on to the patio by the pool. Murton
stayed right with them.

“You’re fools,” Pate said. “Both of
you. Do you think you’re going to change anything? The bill was passed in both
the House and the Senate and then signed into law by McConnell. The prison is
going to get built. Thanks to Bradley Pearson and Abigail Monroe, I’ve got the
contract to run it and the entire project is going to be financed on the greed
and delusions of the people of the state. Nothing you do here or in the future
will change that.”

Virgil let go of Pate’s shirt,
holstered his weapon then laughed at him. The message was clear; he was no
longer a threat in any sense of the word.

“You seem to find something
amusing, Detective. Care to enlighten me?”

Virgil shook his head at him. “I’ll
share some of it with you, Gus. The rest you can figure out for yourself.
Pearson has been playing you. He’s been three steps ahead of your game from the
start. You want to blame me for your son’s death? Go ahead. I played a minor
part in that tragedy for sure, except it was Pearson who pointed me at Samuel.
The only connection your son ever had to McConnell was Amanda’s affair with
Sidney Wells, Jr., the governor’s daughter. Pearson knew if that information
ever became public, the deal he was trying to put together with you would fall
apart. The first two victims of the Wells’ shooting spree weren’t even cold when
Pearson had me looking at your son. Why do you think that is? He had nothing to
do with it. The way I see it, if it weren’t for Bradley Pearson, your son Samuel
would still be alive. The governor told me as much not that long ago.

“What’s wrong, Gus? You look a
little bewildered. Let me dumb this down for you a bit. You thought you and
your goons could take me out of the picture by torturing and then killing me
and it almost worked. But the truth of the matter is you played right into
Pearson’s plans. When the Feds got involved, instead of facing the music,
Samuel took his own life. It’s too bad really. A good lawyer and a fat
checkbook probably could have saved him, except you wouldn’t have gotten your deal
with the state had all this played out in the media. Pearson knew that. My
guess is you and he must have a pretty lucrative arrangement on your private
prison contract. I really don’t care about the legalities of all that. I’m not
a cop anymore. I didn’t kill your son, you idiot. Pearson did. Everything you
had done to me was for nothing.”

Virgil shoved him into the pool
then held his hand out to Murton. “Let me see that stun-gun.” Murton handed him
the device and Virgil got down near the water’s edge. “Want to know how it
feels to be tortured, Gus? Want to know what it’s like to lose control of your
bodily functions at the hands of others? Here’s a little taste.”

Virgil pressed the trigger on the stun
gun and moved it close to the water. When Pate saw what was about to happen he
began swimming frantically toward the opposite side of the pool to escape
electrocution.

Virgil let him get almost to the
other side…

__________

When he felt Murton’s
hand
on his shoulder just before the metal contacts touched the water,
Virgil released the trigger and stood up. He dropped the stun gun on the
concrete and smashed it with the heel of his boot then kicked the pieces into
the water. Pate was still swimming toward the far end of the pool. Murton
Wheeler had in all probability just saved Augustus Pate’s life.

26

__________

V
irgil
followed Murton over to Nichole’s apartment. When they arrived there was a city
squad car parked in front of the building and two uniformed officers standing
on the portion of the sidewalk that led to Nichole’s door. One of the cops
moved to intercept them, but his partner pulled him back, nodded at Virgil and
said, “Hey Jonesy.”

“Frank. What’s going on?”

“Not sure. Miles and Donatti are
inside.”

“Crime scene?”

“I don’t think so. At least not the
kind that you’re used to. Looks like someone popped the door. You can go on
up.”

“Thanks, Frankie. Stop by the bar.
Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I will. You feeling okay these
days?”
Translation:
Off the meds?

“Never better.”

“Atta boy.”

Over his shoulder Virgil heard the other
cop say, “Who was that?” Then Frank said, “Go find me a cup of coffee, Boot.”

__________

Ron Miles and Ed Donatti
met them at the door. “Let’s talk out here. I don’t think we should be inside.”

They all moved back out to the
sidewalk and went about halfway to the street before Miles stopped. “What’s
going on, Ron?” Virgil said.

“When was the last time you saw or
spoke with Nichole Pope?”

“A few days ago,” Virgil said.
“Thursday. The day she hired us. Why?”

“Donatti’s got the rotation this
weekend,” Miles said. The rotation was this: every member of the MCU had to
take their turn—at least once a month on the weekend—and be
responsible for accepting incoming calls and other important messages regarding
open cases. “He called me after Mimi called him.”

“What’s going on, Ron?”

“That’s what I ‘d like to know. In
fact, I’ve suddenly got quite a few questions I’d like to ask that young lady.”

“What are you talking about, Ron?
What kind of questions?”

“Where is Nichole, Jonesy?”

“I don’t know.”

Ron looked at him for a long, hard
minute. A cop look. “You wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on me, would you?”

“Ron, you hired us. We work for
you, remember?”

“I do remember. But I hired you to
figure out the meaning behind the coded message. Any progress on that?”

“Not yet.”

“I see. Nichole Pope is your client,
is she not?”

“Yes, Ron. She is. You already know
that. But so are you.”

“You’re right, I do know that. So
I’ll ask you again. Where is she?”

“Ron, we don’t—” Virgil
interrupted himself and looked at Murton. “We don’t know, do we?”

Murton shook his head.

Miles scratched at the back of his
neck. He looked like he didn’t quite believed them. “If you see her, hear from
her, or have any contact with her of any kind, I want to know and I want to
know right away. Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal. Now are you going to tell
me what the hell is going on?”

“I’d just like to ask her a few
questions.”

“What questions?”

“Oh, you know, nothing too over the
top. Just the usual straightforward sort of questions like, ‘Where is your
brother and why did you try to fake his death?”

__________

Virgil and Murton
looked
at each other.
Faked her brother’s death?
“Ron?”

“The budgetary cuts have hurt us,
Jonesy. You know that. The state lab has been backed up for months. When the
crime scene techs processed Pope’s apartment there were some shortcuts taken.”

“What kind of shortcuts?”

“I know you’ve seen the pictures.
That apartment was covered in blood. We got the DNA back yesterday.”

“And you’re telling us that it’s
not Nicholas Pope’s blood?”

“No, it’s his blood. There’s no
question about that.”

“How about you start from the
beginning.”

“Mimi was the lead technician that
day. Her crew took numerous samples from that apartment and they all matched.
Only one person’s blood. Then Pope’s sister, Nichole comes literally crashing
onto the scene. When Mimi heard she was the sister—
twin
sister—she asked Nichole if she’d be willing to give a sample for
comparison. The fact that they were twins would mean an exact match. Nichole
said yes, Mimi took the blood and that’s where we think things started to go
wrong.”

“Wrong how?” Murton said.

“We’d already collected all the
samples by then. Mimi walked Nichole over to the mobile lab, drew the blood,
then sent it out for DNA analysis and comparison.”

“Yeah, so what? How do the budget
cutbacks factor into all of this?” Virgil said.

“Hell Jonesy, you know how it
works…if you’ve got a perfect match on something like we did with Pope’s blood,
they don’t run additional tests unless the prosecution needs them for trial.”

Virgil knew Ron was right. Blood
work, DNA, forensic pathology, ballistics testing, it all cost money. A lot of
money. When the cutbacks were put in place, if you had enough evidence to move
forward without additional testing, that’s exactly what you did. If your case
made it to trial—and many times they did not because of plea bargains or
outright guilty pleas—only then did you move forward with additional
testing. If the case never made it that far, why spend the state’s money if you
didn’t have to? “So why were additional tests run on Pope’s blood, especially
if the DNA matched?”

“It was at Mimi’s discretion. And
we got lucky. She had a class from the academy visiting the lab. One of the
things she always shows them is how they do their tests. Earlier today, when
the class came in she demonstrated ballistics matchups, fingerprint recovery
and basic blood typing. That’s when she noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“Pope’s blood. The only test that
had been done was DNA. Except DNA doesn’t show you anything…visually, that is.
It tells you things, but it doesn’t show you. If you want to see anything, you
have to take the time to look through a microscope and no one had bothered to
do that until the academy class showed up in Mimi’s lab and she put some blood
under the microscope. She used Pope’s blood because it was the most current
case and she had so much of the stuff. That’s when she spotted the problem. All
the cells had burst. Every single cell from every single sample was exactly the
same.”

“What causes blood cells to burst?”

“That’s exactly what I asked Mimi.
The cells had all burst because they’d been frozen, Jonesy. It looks like Pope’s
blood had been in the freezer before it ever hit the walls and floor of that
apartment. Our working theory right now is this: Pope’s blood had been harvested
over a period of weeks…hell probably months and then stored in the freezer
until it was time to use it. And that means someone was trying to fake his
death. The question is, was it Nicholas or his sister, Nichole, or both?”

__________

“What the hell are
they up to?” Virgil said.

“That’s exactly what I’d like to
know,” Ron said.

The four of them were so caught up
in their conversation they failed to notice the young woman jogging up the
street. She made it almost all the way to Nichole Pope’s apartment door before
any of them took note of her destination. When she got to the door, she stopped
dead in her tracks, looked at the door, then back at them and finally at the
door again.

“Hey, hey,” she shouted. “Are you
guys cops? You look like cops. What the hell is going on here? Did someone
break into my apartment?” Then she disappeared inside.

__________

They walked toward
Nichole’s
apartment, but Murton grabbed Virgil’s arm and pulled him back behind Donatti
and Miles. He spoke from the corner of his mouth. “Don’t say anything. Hector
popped the door earlier. That’s how I ended up at Pate’s. I’ll explain later.”

__________

By the time they
got to the door she had already disappeared inside. They followed her in and when
she popped back out from the bedroom the sight of them froze her. “Who are you
guys? Are you cops? Someone has broken into my apartment.”

Ron held out his badge. “Ma’am, my
name is Ron Miles. I’m a detective with the State Police Major Crimes Unit.”

“Are you here because of the
break-in?” she asked.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Donatti said.
“Could we see your identification, please?”

“My identification? Who are you?
What the hell is going on here?”

“Ma’am, I already told you. My name
is Ron Miles and I’m a detective with the State Police. These gentlemen are
with me. Is this your apartment?”

“Of course this is my apartment.
Who did this? Have you caught them? My god, look at my door. What does a new
door cost anyway? That’s going to come out of my security deposit, you know.”

“Yes ma’am,” Miles said. “I’m sorry
about that, I really am, but I’ve introduced myself twice now. If you don’t
mind my asking, what is your name?

The young woman dug through her
fanny-pack, pulled out her driver’s license and handed it to Ron. “My name is Darla
Walker. Would one of you please tell me what the hell is going on here?”

__________

Wu rang the bell,
waited, rang the bell again and then knocked until his knuckles hurt. When
nobody answered he walked around the side of the house and found Pate standing
next to the pool, fully clothed and dripping wet. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Something. You all wet.”

“I was pushed into the pool. It’s not
important. Go inside and check on Hector.”

“What wrong with Hector?”

Just then Hector came through the
French doors, his hand on the back of his neck. “They gone?”

“Yes, but not before I was almost
electrocuted in my own pool. Next time I tell you to shoot, you shoot.”

“I didn’t have a shot, Boss.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you shoot,
Hector.”

“Didn’t have the shot. Couldn’t
risk it.”

Wu wasn’t sure what he’d missed and
he really didn’t care. He moved closer to both men, looked Pate in the eye and
said, “Wu got bad news. Somebody claim ticket.”

Pate closed his eyes, his fists
clenched at his sides. Then he rushed up to Wu, grabbed the hair on both sides
of his head and pulled his face so close that for a split second Wu thought he
was going to get kissed. “Three-hundred-million dollars, Wu. That ticket is
worth three hundred million dollars. That’s my money.” Pate let go of Wu’s hair
and turned away. When he turned back he looked at Wu and said, “We’re out of
time. We need to find out who has that ticket.”

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Wu say no. Say no because not
need. Not need because already know who has ticket. Come. Wu show you video.”
He walked into the house. Pate and Hector stared at each other for a moment and
then followed him inside.

__________

Ron looked at
the
woman’s driver’s license, then her face, then back at the license before he
handed it to Virgil, who did the same thing. The picture, description and
address all matched with the woman who stood in front of them. Virgil handed
the license to Donatti and tilted his head toward the hallway. Ed nodded, took
out his phone and stepped outside.

“Hey, where’s he going with that?”
the woman said.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Virgil
said. “He’s running a check on your identification. It’s standard procedure.”
She looked, Virgil thought, like she didn’t quite believe him. “Do you live
alone?”

“Yes. It’s a one-bedroom unit in
case you haven’t noticed. I’m not married, no roommate, no kids, so yes, I live
alone.”

“How long have you lived here?”

She furrowed her eyebrows, the math
going in her head. “A little over three years or so. Almost four.”

Donatti walked back in, handed the
license back to the woman and said, “Ms. Walker. Sorry for the intrusion.”

They asked a few more questions to
verify her identity and she cooperated. There was some reluctance there, in the
cooperation, but it felt like the type of reluctance you would expect if the
police were questioning you in your own home over something you knew nothing
about. “Ms. Walker, I’d like to ask you a couple of personal questions. You’re
under no obligation to answer, but if you will, it would be a huge help to our
investigation.”

“You never told me what you
are
investigating.”

Virgil grinned at her. “With all
due respect, it’s not the break-in of your apartment.”

“No kidding. Even I was able to put
that together, about ten minutes ago if you haven’t been keeping up. So what
are you investigating?”

“We’re not at liberty to say,”
Murton said.

“Well that’ sounds just about
right.” She crossed her arms, sucked in her cheeks and nodded. “So ask. Maybe
I’ll answer.”

“That’s fair enough,” Virgil said.
“How’s your credit?”

“Good enough that I don’t have to
worry about it constantly. Bad enough that I worry about paying for a busted
door.”

“Ever have any identity theft
problems?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact. I had
my purse stolen from a cellphone kiosk at the mall. I turned my back for maybe
ten seconds and when I turned back around it was gone. That’s where the credit
problems came from.”

“When was this?”

“Right after I moved in here.”

“I see.”