STATE OF WRATH

VIRGIL JONES MYSTERY THRILLER SERIES

BOOK 23

THOMAS SCOTT

Copyright © 2024 by Thomas Scott. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from both the publisher and copyright owner of this book.

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For Debra

Now, and more than ever, evermore

— Also by Thomas Scott —

Wrath /raTH/

Retributory punishment for an offense or a crime

“Wrath doesn’t care who it touches. Only that it does.”

—Unknown

“No one lives longer than they are meant to.”

—Sarah Palmer

MCU Operations Manager

“More grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it .”

—Marcus Aurelius

CHAPTER ONE

On the surface of it all, what happened could almost be described as fractal…both then and now. Some of the events were simple and routine—a part of regular everyday life. But within that bubble of predictable normality, other situations continued to evolve into something much more complex, a journey that ended up becoming downright horrific in nature.

The trouble started long before a lone man died, and while his loss was felt by many, in the larger picture of life, his death continued to leave ever-widening ripples, much the way a stone does when dropped into a watery abyss, never to be seen again. Except the dead don’t lie, and the wrinkles left behind in the wake of his absence would eventually expand into a larger circle of truth...one that would test their resolve in ways none of them could have ever possibly predicted. And even though the entire affair got put to bed within a matter of days, the first six hours damn near killed them all because no one had any idea what was coming.

It was more than hot-tempered anger, rage, or vexation.

It was wrath.

And it was headed straight toward them, driven by the vengeance of one.

Shelby County Sheriff Ed Henderson was having what any reasonably intelligent human being would call a harrowing afternoon. The hell of it was, the day hadn’t started out that way. If anything—based on how his morning had gone so far—Henderson felt like the day was going to be the equivalent of a nice peaceful walk in the park.

The night shift deputies’ reports showed the previous evening had been quiet, the singular exception being that one of Henderson’s men had backed into a tree with their squad car, leaving a nice round oak-shaped dent in the rear bumper.

The deputy had been hiding behind a row of trees, trying to catch either late-night drunks or reckless drivers near the tail end of his double shift. But he hadn’t caught anyone all night, so he thought a quick little catnap was in order. He locked the doors, turned the volume up on his radar detector, and dialed the trip alarm to a setting of nine miles an hour over the posted speed limit. Then he closed his eyes, safe in the knowledge that the detector would let him know that eight over the limit was fine, but nine and you’re mine.

He’d been sitting for only fifteen minutes or so when someone went ripping past at thirty over and the radar detector started screeching at him like a zoo monkey on meth. The deputy woke with a start, dropped his squad car into gear before his eyes were completely opened, and hit the gas. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite fully awake, the damned radar detector was still screaming at him, and when he hit the gas he soon found out that he’d mistakenly dropped the transmission into Reverse instead of Drive.

He made it exactly four feet when the tree seemed to come out of nowhere and crash into the rear end of his car. That’s not what happened, of course, but that was how it felt to the sleepy deputy.

But Henderson was a good guy, and he knew that everyone made mistakes from time to time—he’d made his share over the years—so he gathered everyone together and gave the deputy a polite little lecture about the differences between up and down, left and right, and especially forward and backward. Then everybody had a good laugh about the whole thing, and that was that for the night shift.

All in all, as far as the sheriff was concerned, if no one got hurt, everything was fine. He’d take that any day of the week. So once the lecture was over, the night shift went home, the day shift took over, and Ed Henderson started his peaceful, walk-in-the-park sort of day.

But sometimes a walk in the park doesn’t go exactly the way it should because things can turn ugly. Things can happen in ways that were, less than an hour ago, completely unimaginable. Ed Henderson discovered that fact the hard way, because just after the lunch hour on a fine autumn day, everything went to hell in a hurry.

Betty, the Shelby County Sheriff’s Office dispatcher, had been uncharacteristically quiet most of the morning. So quiet, in fact—against his better judgment—Henderson stopped by her desk and asked her if everything was all right.

“Of course everything is all right,” Betty said. “What’s the matter? You don’t like the look of my hairdo today? Or maybe my shoes don’t match my handbag. Where’s your gun, by the way?”

Henderson closed his eyes for a few seconds and mentally asked himself why he had bothered in the first place. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and said, “My gun is in its holster.”

Betty pointed a finger at the sheriff. “Don’t get smart with me. Where’s your holster? And you can wipe that look off your face because I’ve got enough to do around here without always having to keep track of everybody’s feelings.”

My feelings? Henderson thought. “I was only asking because you seem a little down in the dumps or something. It’s called being social. Are you feeling okay?”

“How I’m feeling is my own business,” Betty said. “Quit trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not. The subject is mine. I brought it up, remember? I asked if everything was all right.”

When the non-emergency phone line rang, Betty snatched up the receiver, her greeting right on par with the conversation she was trying not to have with the sheriff. “Shelby County Sheriff’s Office. Please hold.” Then, still into the phone and with as much exasperation as she could muster: “Did you hear what I just said? I’m guessing you didn’t because you’re still talking. I’ll say it again. It was, ‘please hold,’ in case you’ve got too much wax in your ears or your hearing aid needs a fresh battery. People need to start listening more and talking less. Now hold on and if you’re lucky I’ll be right back.” She punched the Hold button, set the receiver in the cradle, then looked at Henderson and said, “What?”

Henderson hated to do it because trying to correct Betty’s behavior was a little like attempting to convince the wind that it was blowing in the wrong direction. Nevertheless, he gave it his best shot. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Betty, who’s on the phone?”

“Well, how in the world am I supposed to know the answer to that? I told them to hold.”

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“Then they should have called 9-1-1. Now answer my question.”

“I may have forgotten what it was,” Henderson said.

“Don’t get cute. You’re doing the same thing Ben Holden did when he ran this office.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what was that?”

“You’re breaking the rules. An officer’s gun belongs on their hip.”

“I’m not an officer. I’m the sheriff,” Henderson said. “Besides, as I said, my gun is in my office. I’m thinking about using it on myself right about now.”

“If that’s supposed to be funny, it isn’t,” Betty said. Then the phone chirped at her, a reminder that someone was still on hold.

“Maybe you should take the call, Betty. In fact, I insist on it.”

Betty tucked her chin in, put a hand to her chest, and said, “Oh, well…heavens to Betsy, if you’re going to insist, I don’t see how I could possibly refuse.” Then, before Henderson could say anything else, Betty picked up the phone, punched the proper button and said, “Today’s your lucky day. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket. I’m back. What seems to be the problem?”

Henderson audibly exhaled, then turned and stepped back into his office and closed the door. As he did that, Betty listened to the caller, then said, “No, there isn’t. And even if there was, that’s a job for Animal Control, not the sheriff’s department. Is this the first time you’ve ever tried to call someone? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Good. Let me ask you something, sir: Were you by any chance dropped on your head as an infant? Well, there’s no need to be rude. Maybe you should open up more with your therapist and address your anger issues.” Then she hung up. But beneath her veneer of ridicule and sarcasm with her coworkers and the public at large, Betty had a soft spot for certain things…chief among them, animals in need.

The caller had said that a baby goat was wandering around the town square right outside the sheriff’s office. Betty turned in her chair, looked out the window, and saw something that caused her to visibly swallow. The baby goat was standing in the middle of the intersection, and if somebody didn’t do something right away, the goat wasn’t going to survive.

When Betty stood up and ran out of the office she felt a tingling in her chest that she couldn’t quite define. She ignored the tingle, moved down the stairs as quickly as possible, then pushed through the outer doors. With little regard for her own safety, she ran out into the street, waving the cars and trucks out of the way. Traffic was getting jammed up, horns were honking, and the baby goat was standing in the middle of it all, doing a fine impression of a deer caught in the headlights.

Betty scooped up the baby goat—all thirty-two pounds of it—and made her way out of the traffic and back toward the station. By the time she got to the door her heart was hammering so hard she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. When she got to the top of the steps and pushed her way into the sheriff’s office, she was sweating profusely and having a hard time maintaining her balance, though she didn’t understand why.

She set the baby goat down, gave it a pat on its head, and thought, Kids. That’s what they call baby goats.

It was an odd thought to have, especially when it was the last one of her life.

Henderson wanted another cup of coffee, and he’d just stepped out of his office to get a refill when he saw Betty hit the floor. He dropped his cup, ran behind Betty’s workstation and hit a button tucked under her desk. The button sounded an internal alarm within the station house, and by the time Henderson got the goat out of the way—he stuck it in the temporary holding cell—the outer office was filling up with deputies. One of the men grabbed the emergency defibrillation unit that hung on the wall, while another unashamedly ripped Betty’s blouse open and put his ear to her chest. When he couldn’t hear her heart beating, he stuck the pads on her just like he’d been trained to do, then powered up the unit.

“Hit it,” Henderson said.

The deputy pressed the button to shock Betty’s heart, and when he did, her body twitched slightly—she didn’t arch her back and go stiff like they showed on TV or in the movies because this was real life—but no matter, the shock didn’t work. Henderson pulled out his phone to call for the medics, but just as he brought it up, it began to ring before he could dial. He answered without really meaning to and said, “What?”

“You okay, Ed?” Virgil asked. Virgil Jones was the lead detective with the state’s Major Crimes Unit, and he was calling to ask the sheriff if he could spare a man or two to keep an eye on someone for their own good.

Henderson was so caught up in the moment he didn’t even recognize Virgil’s voice on the other end of the line. “No, and I can’t talk.” Then to his deputy: “Hit her again.”

“It’s not working, Sheriff.”

“I don’t give a shit. Do it.” When Henderson killed the connection, he finally realized who it was that had called him, but he’d worry about that later. He got the medics on the line, but by the time they arrived and took over, there was nothing they could do. Betty was gone.

When asked later why he did it, Henderson didn’t have an answer that would make sense to anyone but himself. After the medics took Betty’s body away, as a sign of respect, Henderson walked into his office and strapped his gun to his hip. Then he closed the door to block off the lobby, sat down at his desk, and stared at the wall for a very long time.

CHAPTER TWO

Two days after Betty died, Henderson began to realize that—despite her obvious character flaws—she was very good at exactly one thing: Betty knew how to keep the entire place running smoothly. The noise from the lobby was unbearable, and even though it seemed like things were beginning to quiet down, Henderson walked out of his office to try to regain control of his own station house, which had turned to chaos without an experienced person behind the front desk. That’s when he noticed Lucy Hall had taken matters into her own hands and managed to get everything moving in the right direction.

Lucy was Detective Tom Rosencrantz’s lover, and Rosencrantz had become good friends with Henderson over the years, their friendship glued together through mutual loss. Rosencrantz had lost his former lover, Carla Martin—the previous Shelby County sheriff—when she was murdered during a mass shooting outside the statehouse a few years ago. Both men still felt the loss in their own way, but no matter, the glue had held, and Rosencrantz—who worked for Virgil as third in command of the MCU—stuck with Henderson as friends, their personal and professional lives often intertwining when state and county business overlapped.

Henderson looked at the lovely young woman and said, “Hi, Lucy. What the hell happened? I thought I was going to have to pull the fire alarm to regain control of this place.”

“I took care of it…although there are three people waiting on hold, and I don’t know what to do about the goat.”

Henderson ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah, Jesus…the goat. Don’t even ask.” Then, “Uh, what can I do for you? Is Rosie okay?”

Lucy smiled. “Yup. He’s waiting for me outside. I heard you might be looking for someone to take over for Betty…”

At six that same evening, Rosencrantz turned in to the parking lot and found Lucy waiting just outside the door, holding a leash in her hand—the leash attached to a dog collar wrapped around the neck of a baby goat. He climbed out of his squad car with one eye squinted shut, walked over to where Lucy stood, and said, “I was going to ask how your first day went, but based on what I’m seeing, I’m not sure I really want to know.”

Lucy was beaming, her freckled face lit with enthusiasm. “I thought since we’re moving in together we should get a pet.” She leaned down and gave the goat a scratch on the top of its head. “Isn’t she cute?”

Rosencrantz suddenly found himself sailing in uncharted waters. He loved Lucy to no end…but a goat? He tugged at his earlobe and said, “I’m all but certain when couples decide to move in together and get a pet, two things happen: They do it together, and although I have absolutely no empirical data to back up my next statement, I’m going to say it anyway.”

Lucy tipped her head to the side and smiled. “Say what, exactly?”

“The aforementioned pet is usually a dog or a cat. If they can’t decide on either of those, they start with something a little smaller and easier to take care of…like a gerbil or a goldfish.”

Lucy scratched the top of the goat’s head again. “Did I ever tell you that when I was a kid—no pun intended, by the way—I used to work in a pet store?”

“No,” Rosencrantz said. “I don’t believe that has ever come up in conversation.”

Lucy was nodding her head rapidly. “It’s true. You wouldn’t believe how many requests we used to get for baby goats.”

“I’ll bet I would,” Rosencrantz said. “She is cute, though. I’ll give you that. But a goat? C’mon, Luce.”

Lucy didn’t want to give up. “I thought since your backyard⁠—”

Rosencrantz interrupted and said, “That’d be our backyard.”

Lucy reached out and touched Rosencrantz on the arm. “You’re sweet. And thank you. Anyway, as I was saying, since our backyard is fenced in, I thought we could keep her for a while…at least until she’s feeling better.”

Rosencrantz frowned. “Wouldn’t work. She’d eat all the vegetables out of the garden. That’s what the fence is for, by the way…to keep the animals out, not in. And what do you mean by feeling better?”

“I don’t exactly know because I’m not a vet. But I know a bloated belly when I see one.” Lucy pointed at the goat’s underside. “She’s too young to be carrying, so something is going on with her.”

Rosencrantz bent down, looked at the goat’s stomach, and saw that Lucy was correct. The goat’s stomach was very bloated. Then he stood back up, but when he did, his movement scared the goat and it turned and kicked at Rosencrantz. The kick caught him in the groin, and though it wasn’t that bad, it was enough to bend him back over.

Henderson had just walked out the front door of the station and saw the kick. He tried not to laugh, but couldn’t help himself.

“Christ, that hurt,” Rosencrantz said. “And quit laughing.”

“Well, at least it’s not as bad as the unfortunate spatula incident,” Henderson said.

When Rosencrantz glanced at Lucy he saw a particular expression on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Speaking of things that have never come up in conversation…”

Rosencrantz shook his head. “Ah, you don’t want to know. Really. Trust me.”

“I think maybe I do,” Lucy said. “I’ll bet Ed will tell me.”

Rosencrantz looked at Henderson with a panicked expression and said, “No, he will not.”

Henderson waved them both off and said, “I’m not getting involved. I’ll see you guys later.” Then he walked away…maybe a little faster than normal.

Lucy looked at Rosencrantz and said, “So, what’s it going to be, Tom? The goat or the story? You pick.”

“I feel like I’m being extorted.”

“If you’re lucky. I’ll extort you later tonight, if you know what I mean.” Lucy said.

“Okay, okay, let’s put her in the back seat. We’ll figure something out.” They got the goat in Rosencrantz’s squad car—no small task—then climbed into the front and began to head back home. On the way, Rosencrantz looked at Lucy and said, “I can’t believe that it’s your first day on the job and you somehow end up with a farm animal. I mean, what’s next? A cow?”

Lucy began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ed told me the story of how they ended up with the goat. That’s not the funny part.”

“Then what is?”

“He mentioned something to the effect of he still owes you a cow.”

Rosencrantz shook his head. “Ah, Christ. That was a joke, and he damned well better know it.”

The goat was having trouble getting comfortable in the back seat of the car. When it finally found a position that worked, it stuck its head up front and licked Rosencrantz’s right ear. Lucy laughed and said, “I think she’s trying to apologize for the kick. We’re going to need to give her a name, you know.”

Rosencrantz wiped the goat slobber from his ear and said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m thinking either Wilma, or Bonnie,” Lucy said.

Rosencrantz knew Lucy was just playing, but he turned serious and said, “We can’t keep a goat, Luce. I think you know that.”

“Of course I do,” Lucy said. “But I had to get her out of Ed’s station. Animal Control said if we took her over there they’d have to put her down, and I didn’t want that to happen. I don’t think you do either.”

“Of course not,” Rosencrantz said.

“So what are we going to do?”

Rosencrantz thought about it for a few minutes, then said, “I’m pretty sure I know someone who’ll take her.”

“Who?”

Rosencrantz smiled. “You’ll see.”

When they arrived at Carl Johnson’s farm, Rosencrantz tried to introduce Lucy, but soon found out it wasn’t necessary. Johnson walked up and gave Lucy a hug, then said, “How’s the world’s best waitress doing?”

“You guys know each other?” Rosencrantz said.

“Course we do,” Johnson said. “I’ve been eating my lunch at that diner over in Rushville two or three times a week. They’ve got these french fries…I’m not sure what they do to them, but you won’t find a better fry in the state, guarantee you.” Then he glanced at Lucy and said, “Plus, the help is easy on the eyes, if you take my meaning.”

Lucy smiled, jerked her thumb at Rosencrantz. and said, “Better watch out, Carl. The last time someone made a remark about me, this one kicked him out of the diner.”

“You’re talking about that Biggatto fella, ain’t you?”

“That’s the one,” Rosencrantz said. “But I think I’ll let your remark go. Jonesy told me you know how to fight.” Then: “Hey, speaking of, are you still mad at him? Jonesy?”

Johnson shook his head. “Nope. Never was, tell you the truth. But that Biggatto idiot had my nuts in a vise and Virgil was trying to sell me on the idea of letting the land go. I just didn’t want to hear it.” Then he looked at Lucy and said, “Sorry, little lady.”

Lucy didn’t understand and said so. “Sorry about what?”

Johnson reddened, then said, “For mentioning the parts of my anatomy that was trapped in the vise.”

Lucy gave Johnson a wink and said, “I’ll survive it. But I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

“What’s that?” Johnson said.

“I quit the diner. You’re now looking at the new day shift dispatch supervisor for the Shelby County Sheriff’s Office. Ed Henderson hired me today.”

“Well, congratulations,” Johnson said. He was genuinely pleased. “Ed’s good people.”

“That he is,” Rosencrantz said. “Listen, Carl, we need a favor.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I was wondering if you could take some livestock off my hands. Or to be more specific, out of my back seat.”

Johnson thought maybe Rosencrantz was pulling his leg, but he soon found out otherwise. They all walked over to the squad car, and once the goat was out of the vehicle, Johnson turned to Rosencrantz and said, “How in the world did you end up with this little one?”

Lucy quickly retold the story to Johnson, then finished with, “So we were hoping you might be able to take her in.”

Johnson bobbed his head around in a noncommittal way and said, “I don’t have a problem with it, but to tell you the truth, it’d be more up to Mike than it would myself. He handles the livestock around here, not me. I’m too busy out at the drill site.”

“Is he around?” Rosencrantz said.

“Yeah, he’s in the barn. Let me go fetch him, see what he says…”

Johnson was back three minutes later with Mike Grey. Grey had an unusual appearance: Long orange hair that looked like it came straight from a scarecrow, and a full mountain-man-style orange beard that fell across his upper chest. He said hello to Lucy—he knew her from the diner as well—and to Rosencrantz, then took a good long look at the baby goat.

“Don’t get too close to her,” Rosencrantz said. “She kicked me earlier. Wasn’t a direct hit…she sort of winged me, but it still hurt.”

Grey had a way with animals of all sorts, and he wasn’t afraid. He got down on his knees and wrapped one arm around the goat’s neck, then reached across her back with the other and gently laid her on the ground. Then he rubbed her belly until she rolled all the way over and had all four legs sticking straight up into the air.

Rosencrantz nudged Lucy in the ribs and said, “Jesus, the guy is like a goat whisperer or something.”

Lucy nudged him right back and said, “Shhh…don’t want to startle her.”

Grey looked over at Lucy and said, “What have you been feeding her?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Lucy said. “Today is the first time I’ve ever seen her. She’s been at the sheriff’s office for a couple of days. I think they’ve been giving her dog food.”

Grey shook his head. “Can’t do that. Goats will eat almost anything, but they’re mostly like horses. They need grass and hay, along with a small amount of grain to balance out their diet.” He ran his hands across her belly, then finished with, “That’s probably why’s she’s so swelled up.” He rolled the goat and got her back on her feet, then looked at Lucy and said, “No idea who she belongs to?”

“None whatsoever,” Lucy said. “Maybe she was someone’s pet.”

“So you’ll take her?” Rosencrantz said. There was a tone of desperation in his voice when he spoke.

Grey shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Can’t keep her here though. We’re set up for hogs, mostly.”

Johnson took off his hat and scratched at the back of his head. “Tell you what we could do, Mike.”

“What’s that, Mr. J?”

“Ever heard the expression, kill two birds with one stone?”

“Sure,” Grey said. “What of it?”

“Let’s take some of those six-rail portable corral panels we’ve got stacked in the barn, block off the entrance to that Rush County field, and let her live out there. If we open up that Judas door on the barn she can take shelter inside if need be. She’ll have everything she needs to eat, she can get water from the ditch, and in the meantime I can use her to help keep the overgrowth in check.”

Grey hated to do it because he didn’t want to go against his boss’s wishes, but he spoke up anyway. “I don’t think that would work, Mr. J.”

“Why not?” Johnson said.

“Well, we could block off the entrance like you said. That ain’t nothing but setting up them panels. And the goat would have plenty to eat, that’s for sure. The barn idea is good for shelter too⁠—”

“Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to make your point before supper, or do we need to pitch a tent and build a campfire?”

“I’m gettin’ there, Mr. J. I just didn’t want you to think you was being disrespected.”

“I don’t feel that way, Mike, and even if I did, I’d survive it. I’m certain.”

“Okay. When you and the detectives dug up that truck and found Mr. Stutzman and that other dead fella, you sent me out to retrieve the excavator.”

Johnson did a fine imitation of Virgil’s wrist-rolling maneuver and said, “I remember. What of it?”

“Well, I done what you told me to do. I filled the hole in, smoothed everything over, and got the CAT back on the lowboy.”

Johnson looked at Rosencrantz and Lucy. “Better start collecting sticks for the campfire.”

“I know you’re just funning with me there, Mr. J.”

“Am I?”

“Anyways, I didn’t have no particular reason to do so, but I done it anyway.”

“Done what?” Johnson said.

“I walked over and took a look at the ditch. It’s getting dryer by the day. Tell you something else…this time of year it ain’t gonna get much wetter. Top of that, we don’t have no working well out there and I ain’t never seen any kind of animal that can survive without water.”

Johnson gave Rosencrantz a particular look…one that said, Why’d you have to dump this in my lap?

Rosencrantz quickly got on Grey’s side. “He’s right, Carl. There might be three or four inches in that ditch. Not only that, those banks are pretty steep.”

Johnson took off his faded green John Deere hat and scratched at the back of his head again. “Yeah, you’re right…both of you. I didn’t think about that.”

“Don’t you keep horses out at the cultural center?” Rosencrantz said.

“Well, not me personally,” Johnson said. “But they do have them.”

“And goats eat the same things as horses, right?” Lucy said.

“Okay, I’ll call Patty,” Johnson said. “She’s up at the Isabella with Tony, spending some time visiting his uncle. Don’t think she’ll mind, but I better check anyway.” Then to Grey: “Mike, get her set up in one of the empty pens for now. See if you can find some hay or something. We’ve got a few bales around, don’t we?”

Grey said they did, and that he’d handle it, and then he got to work. As he was walking away, the goat followed him the way a puppy might.

Rosencrantz thanked Johnson, then he and Lucy got the hell out as fast as they could. As far as Rosencrantz was concerned, it was problem solved.

Except it wasn’t, because Johnson’s expression of two birds and one stone would hit closer to home than anyone might ever imagine.

CHAPTER THREE

Over the years, Virgil Jones had managed to wiggle his fingers into quite a few pies, some a little more sticky than others. In addition to being the lead detective with the state’s Major Crimes Unit, he co-owned a Jamaican-themed bar and restaurant called Jonesy’s Rastabarian with his adopted brother Murton Wheeler, and two Jamaicans named Delroy Rouche and Robert Whyte. Delroy ran the bar, Robert was their chef, and together the two men had turned the business into a huge success. Delroy and his lover—a wickedly beautiful woman by the name of Huma Moon—had a little girl of their own named Aayla, and they all lived with Virgil and his wife, Sandy, in their own wing of the house, as Huma was nanny and caretaker to all the children.

Virgil and Sandy were also minority stakeholders in a corporation called Said, Inc., a multibillion-dollar holding company that had been built from the ground up by a man named Rick Said.

Virgil and Said had met a number of years ago when Said’s niece, Patty Stronghill, had been kidnapped during her final semester at Indiana University. Said wasn’t a suspect in Patty’s disappearance, but he had played both sides of the fence in order to get her back…a move that—had it not been for Said himself—could have been a disaster for not only the state, but a large part of the entire Midwest. But in the end, Virgil got lucky, rescued Said’s niece, and in doing so, a course was charted not only for himself, but his entire family for generations to come. Said made Virgil a partner in his sonic drilling operation on land that Virgil and Sandy owned, and when the tech finally began to work, Virgil and his family ended up a little rich.

Actually, they were quite wealthy.

But money wasn’t the driving force behind the work Virgil did. Sure, he could have retired and lived in luxury for the rest of his life, but Virgil not only liked being a cop, he felt he was born to it. And in a way he was, as his late father, Mason, had been the Marion County sheriff before he retired to care for his ailing wife, Elizabeth.

In any event, Virgil followed in his father’s footsteps and became a cop, then a detective for the Major Crimes Unit. There was something about the hunt that made his motor run, and since he did it directly under the governor’s direction—he was as much a fixer as he was a detective—there was rarely a dull moment. The fact that he worked with Murton, who was second-in-command at the MCU, was also a plus. Murton and his wife, Becky, along with their young daughter, Ellie Rae, lived on the same plot of land as Virgil and Sandy, who had two boys of their own, Jonas and Wyatt. Virgil and Sandy adopted Jonas Donatti after both his parents were killed, repeating history in much the same way Virgil’s parents had when they took Murton in as a young boy. Jonas and Wyatt were growing up faster than Virgil liked, but that was the way life went.

At the same time Rosencrantz and Lucy were dumping the goat on Johnson, Virgil was sitting in his office at the MCU facility—an old post office building that had been repurposed for modern-day police work—and talking with his latest hire, Emily Baker.

Baker had been recently promoted to the rank of detective within the state police, and after some political maneuvering, which had mostly been handled by Murton, Baker got the nod and moved from the governor’s protective detail over to the MCU. Virgil was happy to have her, but it had come with a cost. He’d sent Baker and another one of his detectives, Rafael Ortiz, out to make an arrest on their previous case…one that should have been a nice, routine, by-the-book apprehension but had turned into something a little more hairy. Baker ended up killing the woman they were sent to arrest—it had been deemed a clean shoot—but Ortiz was seriously injured when Baker shoved him out of the way in an effort to save his life.

“You did what you had to do, Em,” Virgil said. “Any one of us would have done the same.”

Baker was sitting sideways on the davenport in Virgil’s office, her feet hanging over the end of the sofa. She had short blonde hair styled in a not quite funky way, was fit, trim, and, as a former military fighter pilot, strong as an ox.

“I know that, Jonesy, but I still feel like crap over the whole thing. He shattered his pelvis, for Pete’s sake.”

“Let me ask you this,” Virgil said. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“I tried, but I don’t think he took much of it in. He’s still sort of loopy.”

Virgil had the gene that allowed him to raise a single eyebrow. He pulled out the gene and put it on display, his head tipped to the side.

Baker tipped a finger at him. “Becky said I’m not supposed to let you get away with that. There was also some mention of wrist-rolling, as well.”

Virgil dropped the brow and said, “I can see you’re going to fit right in around here.” There was a note of sadness in his voice when he spoke.

Baker caught the note, but tucked it away for a moment. “Mayo told me that I’m his hero for saving his partner’s life. Hell of a thing, though, when you think about it. Save a guy’s life, but bust him up in the process.”

Virgil gave her a shrug. “Is what it is, Em. Julia told me the surgery went well, and even though he’s going to be out for quite some time, he’s going to make a full recovery. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Julia was Doctor Julia Evans, an orthopedic surgeon who happened to be the girlfriend of Richard Cool, the state’s chief pilot. In the coming months, Baker would be working directly with Cool once she had a chance to go to flight school and learn to fly helicopters. In the meantime, she’d be teamed up with Detective Oscar Mayo, who was Ortiz’s regular partner. She’d also fill in for anyone who was out sick or wanted some vacation time.

“I’ll try not to,” Baker said. “Mind if I ask you something?”

Virgil thought the question was going to be procedural in nature, but it wasn’t. “Of course not. What is it?”

“A few seconds ago when you said I was going to fit right in, there was something in your voice, and I don’t think it had anything to do with what I said. Want to talk about it?”

Virgil didn’t, but at the same time, he managed to put his own feelings aside, mainly because he wanted to see how good Baker really was. He leaned forward, put his elbows on the desktop and said, “Yeah, there was something in my voice, and you’re right…it didn’t have anything to do with what you said or the tone of your voice. So, let me ask you a question, Detective: If it wasn’t any of that, what was it?”

Baker closed her eyes in thought, and for a moment Virgil didn’t think she was going to get it. When she spoke, she kept her eyes shut. “I don’t know why, but I think it was this.” She lifted her hand and tipped a finger at Virgil, then opened her eyes. “Am I right?”

Then the note of sadness came back, and Virgil simply said, “Yeah, Em. You’re right on the money...in more ways than one.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Baker said, “So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really,” Virgil said. “But I will for you, mainly because of something Murton mentioned to me in confidence.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll get to it in a minute, but first you should know something: Murton and I don’t keep secrets from each other. There was a time long ago when we did, but not anymore. There’s much more to that statement than we have time for right now, but he told me about your little meeting in the parking garage after you made detective.”

“I knew he was going to,” Baker said. “We talked about it because when I made the ask about coming to the MCU, he told me he doesn’t keep anything from exactly three people: You, Becky, and Sandy…although I’ve noticed that he still calls her Small.”

Virgil smiled as he nodded. “Yeah, those two, they have this…bond. I’m not sure I have the words to describe it, but the things they’ve endured together have connected them in a way that’s perfectly symbiotic in nature. I’m a bit surprised you didn’t know that. Or hell, maybe I’m making assumptions where I shouldn’t, but you’ve spent enough time with Sandy that I thought some of it might have come up.”

“That’s true,” Baker said. “Some of it has, but I get the feeling there might be plenty of information that hasn’t been revealed yet.”

Virgil laughed through his nose. “That’s true of just about everything, isn’t it? Even your own story. That’s why I mentioned your conversation with Murton.”

“Not sure I follow,” Baker said.

“You’ll get there, Detective. Anyway, when I first met Rick Said…you remember Rick, right?”

“Of course,” Baker said.

“Okay, so…Rick Said: When we first met—” Virgil stopped for a few seconds and rubbed his face with both hands. “The truth is, when I first met Rick, I thought he was a crooked businessman, but as it turned out, he was the exact opposite. The guy was as honest as they come, and one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. But more than that…he was a genuinely good person, right down to his soul. He did things for people that others wouldn’t even dream about, much less consider.”

Baker was intrigued. “Can you give me an example?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I can.” Virgil pulled out his keys, unlocked the bottom desk drawer, and pulled out a King James Bible.

Baker bit into her bottom lip and said, “I hope this isn’t an altar call.”

“Hardly,” Virgil said. He tapped the Bible with his index finger. “But it started with this. Ended with it too.”

“In what way?”

“Remember when you had to stay at the Conrad with Sandy? It was during the MedCap case.”

Baker nodded. “I remember providing protection, and the reason why, but I didn’t know much about the actual case itself.”

“The short version is this: When Harlan Shaw’s son, Connor, and his wife, Alicia, were murdered, it was because of what was in this book. There was a coded message that gave access to an off-shore account—” Virgil waved his hand in the air like he was trying to erase his own words, mainly because he didn’t want to talk about where the money ended up. “None of that really matters. What does matter is this: Harlan Shaw and Rick Said both used the same lawyer…a guy by the name of J. Allen Turkis. Anyway, Rick was providing funding for Connor’s company and he had a business meeting scheduled with him at his house. Connor Shaw’s house, I mean. When Rick showed up, he discovered their mutilated bodies. The murders were horrific…some of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“I did hear about that part,” Baker said.

“Yeah, I think half the country did. We eventually got the case wrapped up, but something happened that very first night when we showed up at the crime scene. When Rick found the bodies, he sort of freaked out. It was so bad he couldn’t calm down, things got a little out of hand, and he ended up getting tasered by one of the county cops. A guy named Deputy Larkins.”

Baker winced. “Yikes. I’ll bet that didn’t go over very well.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement. Said was as mad as a hornet, and even though Larkins tried to smooth it over by apologizing, Rick wasn’t having it. Larkins gave it his best effort, but Rick essentially told to him to fuck right off. But the thing is, Larkins’s kid was dying—his kidneys were failing—and they couldn’t find a donor. So, I’m trying to get Rick to calm down, and in doing so, I told him about Larkins’s boy. I guess I was trying to inject a little humanity into the story, but as it turned out, it was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made.”

Baker was confused. “Why?”

“Because that whole series of events ultimately led to Rick’s death. On the very same night that Deputy Larkins tasered Said, Rick went to the hospital and asked to be tested to see if his kidneys were a match. That’s the kind of man Said was. And as it turned out, they were a match, and by donating a part of himself—to a stranger, no less—he saved that young man’s life. He also paid off all their medical debt, pulled them out of bankruptcy, and set up a college scholarship for the deputy’s boy, Mason.”

“Mason was your father’s name,” Baker said. It wasn’t a question. “And what Mr. Said did sounds generous as hell,” Baker said.

“You’re right on both accounts…and that was Rick. He was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and if I’d been paying better attention, he might still be alive today, because he ended up getting murdered right inside the hospital. I never saw it coming, and it haunts the hell out of me sometimes.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, and I’m sorry for your loss, Jonesy, but how does tipping my finger at you make you sad?”

“Because that was something Rick always did. He’d tip his finger at someone to make a point. Every time someone does it—hell, I do it too—it reminds me of him and how much I miss him because he was by-God one of us, Em. He was family, and now he’s gone.”

Baker sat quietly with that for a minute or so, and Virgil let her. Finally she stood and said, “You were referring to what Murton told me in the parking garage when I told him I didn’t have any family.”

Virgil gave her a tight smile. “Yes…and I like the way you think.”

Baker sensed that the conversation was over, but she had another question. She pointed at the Bible on Virgil’s desk and said, “Do you read it?”

Virgil shook his head. “Nope. Don’t need to. I’ve got the part that matters memorized.”

“What part is that, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Virgil opened the book, pulled out a folded, hand-written note, and gave it to Baker. The note read:

Virgil,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve somehow managed to go where we’ll all end up someday…wherever that might be. Take care of Patty for me, will you? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You, Virgil Jones. You’re the one. I’ll see you on the other side. Watch your back, hotshot.

—Rick

Baker handed the note back without saying a word, but Virgil filled the silence for her. “Welcome to the family, Em. You’re one of us now. The truth of it is, you always have been. All you have to do is recognize that fact.” Then, as if maybe he’d been a little too personal, he tipped his chin over her shoulder, and said, “Have a good weekend, Bake. Get the door on your way out, would you?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Two minutes later, Murton walked into Virgil’s office and sat down in the same spot Baker had just vacated. He leaned back, his fingers interlaced behind his head, his legs straight out, his feet crossed at the ankles. “Everyone’s paperwork on Biggatto and the whole sunshine array debacle is done…except yours, that is.”

Virgil gave his brother a frown. “What are you talking about? Mine’s done.”

“I may have misspoken,” Murton said. “Let me try again. Everyone’s paperwork on Biggatto and the aforementioned giant fireball in the sky has been turned over to Sarah, who, based purely on my own personal observations, would very much like to do her job and send it up the line to the powers that be. In other words, she’s still waiting on yours.”

Sarah Palmer was the Major Crimes Unit’s operations manager, and girlfriend of MCU detective Andrew Ross. Together, the two of them were raising Sarah’s daughter, a beautiful little girl named Olivia, who everyone called Liv. Murton lifted his chin slightly and finished with, “I happen to know she’s waiting because I can see the file—among other things of significant note—still sitting on your desk.”

Virgil picked up the Bible and locked it away in the drawer. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Benefit of being the boss. I’ll get it to her before I leave. I’m about done for the day as it is.”

“How long before Small gets back?” Murton said.

Sandy had flown down to the Said, Inc. estate in Kentucky earlier in the day with the CEO—Hewitt (Mac) McConnell—and the rest of the leadership team for a mini retreat to discuss an ongoing venture the company was trying to complete. “Couple of days.”

“What are they meeting about down there?”

Virgil gave his brother a lazy shrug. “I think the company is getting closer to perfecting their onboard electric vehicle battery extender, or charger, or whatever they’re calling it. Sandy said the engineers are close, but they’ve run into a snag. But the Pope crew is with them…if that tells you anything.”

Murton chose to ignore Virgil’s comment, and instead said, “And the boys are at camp, up in Michigan, right? What’s the name of that place again?”

“Yeah. They’re at Camp Tannadoonah in Vandalia for the fall break. The school does it every year. Little fishing, hiking, archery…outdoorsy stuff.”

“So you’ve got the entire weekend to yourself?”

“Something like that,” Virgil said.

Murton turned the corners of his mouth down. “I’d say exactly like that.” When Virgil didn’t respond, Murton finished with: “What is it, Virg?”

Virgil opened his mouth to answer, closed it, then tried again. “You ever get tired of missing people?”

“Other than Mom and Dad, I’ve got a pretty short list,” Murton said. “You should know that better than anyone. How about you tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Virgil said, but his eyes slid away when he spoke. “I just had a little chat with Baker and something unexpected came up while we were talking. It sort of bit me in the mental butt.”

Murton smiled and said, “That’s quite the visual. Maybe that’s why they say you often have your head up your ass.”

“No one says that.”

“Well, let’s agree to disagree,” Murton said. He waited patiently until his brother looked at him. “How about you and me head over to the bar? We could grab a bite to eat, maybe toss back a couple of Red Stripes. I’m going over there to have dinner with Becky anyway.”

Virgil tried on a smile of his own, but it came across as manufactured and false. “Maybe tomorrow, huh? I was going to swing by the hospital and see how Ortiz is doing.”

“Great. I’ll go with you,” Murton said. “It’s not that far out of the way, and then we can hit the bar and grab some dinner.”

“Ah, I appreciate it, Murt, but you and Becky don’t need a third wheel. Go have fun. I’m fine. Just feeling a little out of sorts, I guess. I’ll say hello to Ortiz, then head home.”

Murton wasn’t quite ready to give up. He also decided it was time to stop dancing. “It was never your fault, Virgil. Not for one single second. The guy did an honorable thing and it didn’t work out. That’s the way life goes. When it’s your time, it’s your time. You can’t change the past. Maybe it’s time to stop trying.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If Virgil thought he’d managed to slide one past his own brother, he was mistaken. “I think you do,” Murton said. Then he stood and moved to the door. Just before he pulled it open, he turned back, tipped his finger at his brother, and said, “Have a good night. And watch your back, Hotshot.”

When Virgil got to the hospital he turned in to the parking garage, locked up his Range Rover, then made his way to Ortiz’s room. The door to the room was closed, and when he reached out to push it open, a nurse on the other side was just coming out, and Virgil almost fell into the door as it swung away from him.

The nurse gave him a sheepish grin, then put a finger to her lips, the flat of her other hand on Virgil’s chest. She wore latex gloves, and gently pushed him back from the doorway, then guided him a few steps down the hall. “Are you here to see Detective Ortiz?”

“I am,” Virgil said. “He’s a friend of mine.”

The nurse looked up and down the hallway, then said, “I know it’s still visiting hours, and you’re welcome to hang around for a while if you want, but Detective Ortiz is sleeping and I’d hate to wake him. He’s exhausted. The first few days are the hardest.”

“I’m aware,” Virgil said. “About the first few days, I mean. I’ve had my own share of hospital stays. How’s he doing…other than the exhausted part?”

“Well, you heard about the surgery, I take it?”

Virgil nodded. “Yes. Julia…uh, Doctor Evans, that is—she’s a close friend of mine—said it went very well.”

“It did. Unfortunately, that’s the easy part. Now the real work begins. I was told the physical therapists had him up and walking today for the first time.”

Virgil winced without really meaning to. “Jeez, I’m not what anyone would consider a medical expert, but that seems awfully soon to me.”

“That’s what most people think, but it’s a necessary evil.”

Virgil bobbed his head around in a circle. “You know, now that you mention it, I remember that.”

“Remember what?” The nurse said.

Virgil turned his palms up like he didn’t want to talk about it. “Ah, a bunch of years ago I got the snot knocked out of me. It was pretty bad, and I ended up with a few pins in my leg. They had me moving around on crutches the very next day. I mean, it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the surgery and I had someone standing over my bed telling me it was time to get up. I can remember thinking that one of the requirements for being a medical professional was you had to be part sadist.”

The nurse laughed and said, “There is some truth to that, but we’re sadistic in a good way.”

Virgil laughed right along with her and said, “I’ll tell you a quick funny story that proves my point. After they sent me out on crutches—I was on this exact floor, by the way—I went down to the end of the hall to look out the window. There used to be a small couch over there, and I managed to get myself seated to rest for a few minutes, then discovered that I couldn’t get back up without my dad’s help. It was sort of embarrassing.” Then, with no segue at all: “Is it always this quiet around here?”

“Not always, but we’ll take it when we can get it. Was he a good man…your father?”

“Yeah, he was. But let me ask you this: You just spoke of him in the past tense. How did you know he died?”

“I didn’t, actually. And I didn’t even realize I did that…the past-tense thing. I guess it was just the tone of your voice.”

Virgil didn’t mind, and said so. “That’s okay. I think sometimes people give off a certain vibe, even when they don’t intend to.”

The nurse looked both ways down the hall again, lowered her voice and said, “I, uh, normally don’t do this kind of thing, but if you’re free, my shift ended the second I walked out of your friend’s room. Maybe we could get a cup of coffee from the cafe, or even something a little stronger down the street…if you’re interested?”

Virgil felt himself turning three different shades of red. “I’m flattered. Really. But a number of years ago I married the woman of my dreams, and I find myself more in love with her each passing day. We’ve got two boys, a golden retriever named Larry the Dog—if you can believe that—and I have the type of life I sometimes think others could only dream of.”

The nurse smiled in a way that felt peculiar to Virgil, but since he didn’t know why, he let it go. “Well, sweet dreams, then,” she said. “And have a nice life, Detective.” Then she turned and headed for the nurse’s station. Virgil watched her go and noticed that she seemed to be hurrying down the hall. He wondered what the rush was, but then thought that she was either simply embarrassed by his refusal of her offer, or she didn’t want to hang around after her shift had ended. Probably both.

Virgil parked his butt against the wall outside of Ortiz’s room and decided Murton had been right. He shouldn’t let a random conversation with Baker ruin his night. She was simply asking questions that were all perfectly normal for a new detective in his unit. Why let a fond memory of someone drag him down? With that thought firmly embedded in his brain, he pulled out his phone. He hit the speed dial to call Murton in hopes that he still wanted to grab dinner at the bar. As he was doing that, Virgil’s brain finally clicked into gear.

The nurse had called him Detective. His weapon was concealed, and his badge wasn’t visible. How did she know he was a cop? Then he remembered his own statement from just a moment ago. Sometimes people give off a certain vibe, even when they don’t intend to. Virgil knew he had the cop vibe. He also knew it couldn’t really be helped. He was about to let the whole thing go, except that’s when he saw the nurse do something else; something that not only changed his night, but the entire Major Crimes Unit’s as well. She pulled her hospital badge from the pocket of her scrubs and tossed it across the counter before disappearing through the stairwell door.

Virgil—who’d already forgotten he’d dialed Murton—stuck his phone in his jacket pocket, hip-checked himself off the wall and began walking toward the nurse’s station, his feet moving faster with each step. By the time he made it to the stairwell he was practically running. When he pushed the door open he discovered the nurse was nowhere in sight. He thought about chasing after her, then quickly realized getting lost inside a hospital was one of the easiest things in the world to do, whether you wanted it to happen or not. He’d let the security footage follow her…if it was even necessary. When he turned away from the stairwell door and looked behind the counter, Virgil’s intention was to examine the nurse’s badge to get her name, but that’s when he discovered the security footage wouldn’t just be necessary…it’d be vital.

Two other nurses were on the floor behind the counter, both of them unconscious and bleeding from stab wounds to the sides of their chests. A blood-covered pair of scissors was visible beneath the desk. All the individual room monitors and computer screens were turned off. The line that connected the desk phone had been ripped from the wall jack.

Virgil hated to do it, but he left the injured nurses alone. He knew his own limitations and he didn’t want to somehow make their condition worse by moving them. As he ran back toward Ortiz’s room, Virgil started yelling for help. He didn’t know if anyone could hear him or not, but just before he pushed through the door he saw a well-dressed man in a business suit standing at the end of the hallway watching him. If asked in the moment who it was, Virgil would have bet every last nickel he owned that it was his long-lost friend, Rick Said.

The bar was uncharacteristically quiet, and while Murton and Becky were enjoying a fine peaceful dinner, Murton mentioned the small crowd size to Delroy when he brought them fresh drinks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place so muted on a Friday night. What’s going on?”

“It dat Jelly Roll concert tonight over at da Gainbridge, mon.”

Becky snapped her fingers and said, “That’s right. The Beautifully Broken Tour. I tried to get tickets, but they were sold out.”

“Dat da one,” Delroy said. “But don’t you worry, you. We pack the place in about tree hours.”

“How’s that?” Murton said.

Delroy leaned over and lowered his voice. “I found out earlier today, me. The house band is going to have a special guest later. I’ve called in all the backup bartenders and waitstaff. We gonna need dem, too.”

Murton was interested. “Why’s that?”

“Ziggy in town, mon.”

Becky almost spilled her drink when she heard the news. When she spoke, her eyes were opened wide. “Ziggy, Ziggy? As in son of Bob, Ziggy?”

Delroy stood back up. “Yeah, mon, yeah. How many Ziggy’s you know, you?”

“Just the one,” Becky said. “How did you pull that off?”

“Wasn’t me,” Delroy said. “But he and Robert go way back…all da way to Trenchtown, mon.”

Murton pulled out his phone and set it on the table, a smile on his face.

“Who are you going to call?” Becky said.

“Your favorite brother-in-law. I tried to get him to come down here and join us for dinner, but he didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I think he was telling Baker about Said, and how he died. The whole ordeal still eats at him. He had that Bible out and sitting on his desk. I gave it my best shot, but he said he was going to go check on Ortiz, then head home. Pretty sure this new intel will change his mind, though.” Murton pulled up Virgil’s number, but never got a chance to dial because his phone started vibrating.

Becky glanced at the screen and said, “Speak of the devil.”

Murton smiled and hit the Speaker button. “Jones-man, I’m about to brighten your evening. Guess⁠—”

But that’s as far as Murton got before they all heard Virgil yelling for help.

Murton tried to yell back into the phone, but it didn’t work. He stood from the table so fast he knocked his chair over. He looked at Becky and said, “Get me a location. He’s probably at the hospital, but I need to know for sure. And get Metro PD moving.” He quickly kissed Becky goodbye, then was gone, out through the kitchen and into the back parking lot.

As Becky ran upstairs to her office, Delroy rubbed his face with both hands, then picked up Murton’s chair, sat down at the table, and thought, Here we go again, no?

CHAPTER FIVE

Murton wasn’t much of a gambler, but he took a chance anyway. It was either that, or sit and wait. And waiting was out of the question because he knew Virgil was in some sort of trouble…that much was clear. When asked later if he’d ever heard Virgil call out for help in such a panicked voice, Murton wouldn’t be able to think of one single time it had ever happened.

He suspected Virgil was at the hospital—mainly because the timing worked out—but there was also the possibility he was still at the MCU, or already either at home or on his way there. If he played the odds, a turn to the left out of the lot would take him in two directions at once—toward the MCU facility, and also back home. If he went right, it’d take him toward the hospital.

When he turned his squad car out of the bar’s back lot—even though it went against the odds—he chose to go right. His reasoning? Virgil knew how to take care of himself. If he was at the MCU—or at home, for that matter—he wouldn’t be yelling for help…he’d be taking care of business. To Murton, that meant his brother was somewhere that put him out of his element, and that meant chances were he was at the hospital. He put his ear buds in so he could hear the phone over the noise of his siren. Virgil had stopped yelling for help, but Murton could hear him breathing heavily. It sounded like he was near his phone, but didn’t actually have it on his person.

Then Virgil’s voice was back, and even though it still sounded like it was muffled, he heard him saying, “C’mon, man, c’mon, c’mon.” Then, from much farther away, he heard someone scream.

Murton hated to do it, but in the moment he felt like he didn’t have any other option. He killed the call. He wanted the line open because he knew Becky would contact him first…and it wouldn’t be via a text message because he was driving hard and she would know that.

He blew through a red light, did a little juke with the steering wheel to miss a pedestrian, then got caught at the next intersection, the traffic completely blocking his path. With little forethought, he hopped the curb, got both of his right-side wheels up on the sidewalk, squeezed around the vehicles in front of him, quickly checked to his left and right, then zipped through another intersection and punched the gas. When his phone rang, he hit the button on the Charger’s steering wheel and simply said, “Go.”

“Hospital,” Becky said.

When Murton spoke, his voice sounded calm, a stark contrast to the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Get Metro PD headed that way, quick as you can. I’m seven minutes out or less, if the traffic holds.”

“I’ve already sent them a priority alert. Every cop working that sector should be lighting things up as we speak. What else?”

“Call hospital security. They’ve got something going on and they might not know it. Keep trying Jonesy’s phone every few minutes. I had to kill the call. He either couldn’t hear me, or couldn’t take the time to respond. Call Julia as well. If she’s still at work, get her up to Ortiz’s room. Love you, Becks.” Then Murton punched off without waiting for a reply. He needed to focus on his driving.

Virgil never heard Murton over the phone. In fact, with everything happening so quickly, he’d forgotten that he’d placed the call to begin with. When he got to Ortiz’s bedside he saw a syringe hanging from one of the IV ports, its plunger completely depressed. Ortiz’s lips and eyelids were starting to turn blue, and he had one arm hanging off the side of the bed.

Virgil took three seconds to look around the room. He pressed a red button on the wall behind the bed—didn’t know if it would do anything or not—then saw an oxygen mask attached to a line that led to a port on the same wall. He cranked the knob all the way open, got the mask strapped over Ortiz’s face, then started doing chest compressions on his fellow detective, the whole time saying, “C’mon, man, c’mon, c’mon.”

Down by the nurses’ station, someone screamed.

After she left work, Sarah made the trip out to Virgil and Sandy’s house to pick up Olivia. The security guards at the end of the road knew Sarah well, mainly because they’d all heard the story about how she hurt her knee, which, in its own way, led to their hiring. The security detail was an expense covered by Said, Inc. because Sandy worked right alongside Mac—who, as a former governor, had his own private security at the Conrad—so when Virgil raised the issue, Mac never hesitated. Two men were always in place, twenty-four hours a day, each team taking an eight-hour shift.

Sarah pulled up to the Tahoes, which were parked nose-to-nose at an angle, completely blocking off Virgil and Murton’s private road from the highway just south of the city. She buzzed her window down and gave both men a friendly wave. One of the guards walked over, smiled and said, “Miss Palmer, I know I’ve said this before, but if you’d call us ahead of time to let us know you’re coming, we can have our vehicles out of the way. You wouldn’t even have to stop.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be very friendly of me, now would it?” Sarah said. “Besides, I know how much you enjoy our little chats.”

“I do enjoy our chats, ma’am, but make no mistake, as a former state police officer, I know what Detective Ross is capable of. I’ve actually had occasion to witness it. That’s my way of saying I hope my name doesn’t come up in conversation very often…or ever, for that matter.”

Sarah decided to have a little fun. “It’s funny you mention that, Frank. It was just last night at dinner when I told Ross what a wonderful conversationalist you are.”

Frank opened his eyes a little wider and said, “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Sarah tipped her head to the side. “Why? It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.” Then she let a pensive expression cross her face, and finished with, “Although, now that I think about it, he did write something down in that little notebook he carries around with him.”

Frank visibly swallowed. “Uh, let me move my vehicle so you can get through, ma’am.”

The guard started to walk away, but Sarah called him back. “Hey, Frank?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You know I’m only playing with you, right?”

The guard seemed to relax a bit. “Well, I do now. But maybe you should just play with yourself. I don’t need to walk around with a bullseye on my back.”

Sarah started laughing, then said, “I’ll be sure to tell Ross what you said.”

Frank didn’t get it, and said as much. “What’s so funny?”

“You just told me to play with myself.”

“No, ma’am, no, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I misspoke. Really. I would never say anything that would be indicative of⁠—”

Sarah, still smiling, buzzed her window back up and cut him off. Once Frank had his Tahoe out of the way, Sarah drove through and gave him a little girlie finger wave as she went past.

After the vehicles were back in position, Frank’s partner looked him in the eye and said, “You’re dead meat, Dude. Let me ask: Do you want the traditional graveside service, or would you prefer cremation? Either way, it’ll be a closed casket. I can damn sure guarantee you that much.”

At the same time Murton was dumping his squad car in front of the hospital entrance, Sarah had just pulled up in front of Virgil’s house, the steering wheel wobbling in her hands. When she got out of her car, she saw a nail had embedded itself in the left front tire, and it was nearly flat. She sighed, then took out her phone to call Ross.

Doctor Julia Evans ran into Ortiz’s room, grabbed the back of Virgil’s jacket, and yanked him out of the way. She put her stethoscope against Ortiz’s chest and listened for a heartbeat, but couldn’t find one. She pushed a lever on the bed to flatten it out, then leaned over and began doing what Virgil had…she restarted the chest compressions. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil said. “There was a nurse—or I think it was someone pretending to be a nurse—who came out of his room just as I got here. There’s a syringe in one of the ports. I think she shot him up with something.”

“Left pocket of my lab coat. Right now. Hurry.”

Virgil reached into Julia’s pocket and pulled out a phone. “Got it.”

Julia had dusty red hair, and it fell across the sides of her face as she worked on Ortiz. “Press and hold the number 9 until you hear three beeps, then stick it right in front of me.”

Virgil did as he was told, and when he heard the beeps, he held the phone close to Julia’s face.

Evans, still pumping away on Ortiz’s chest, said, “Code Blue, Orthopedic Recovery. Crash cart to room 417, stat.”

Virgil pulled the phone away and said, “What can I do?”

“Get me some nurses in here.”

“I can’t. They’ve been injured, Julia. They’re both down behind the main station. I think they’re hurt pretty bad.”

“Damn it. Okay. Any idea what she shot him up with?”

Virgil shook his head in frustration. “No. I have no idea.”

“Check the floor. Look for a vial.”

Virgil got down on his hands and knees and scanned the floor. It took him nearly a full minute, and he almost missed it, the vial stuck behind one of the rollers underneath the hospital bed. “Got it.”

“Read it to me. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”

Virgil looked at the vial and said, “There’s no name on the label. Just a bunch of letters and numbers.”

“Read it, Jonesy. C’mon. We’re running out of time.”

“It says, C13H16CINO…all capital letters.”

“There should be a CID number below that. What is it?”

“3821,” Virgil said.

“Shit. All right. Behind the nurses’ station…row of cabinets, bottom level. They’ll be locked, but bust open the middle one and bring me a syringe and some epinephrine.”

Virgil ran from the room and got to the nurses’ station just as Murton burst through the stairwell door. Virgil heard the door, turned, saw his brother and said, “Knife.”

Murton bent down and pulled a K-Bar knife from his boot, tossed it to Virgil and said, “Where?”

“Ortiz’s room. 417. Julia’s trying to get him back.”

Murton didn’t bother to respond. He simply ran that way. At the far end of the hall, two nurses were pushing a crash cart toward the room.

Sarah was so focused on her flat tire and phone, she’d failed to notice that Ross’s squad car was parked over by Virgil’s garage. When Ross came out the front door he snuck up behind his girl and wrapped her in a hug. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Sarah let out a little yelp, then twisted herself around inside Ross’s grasp. “Hey, yourself. What the heck are you doing here?”

Ross gave her a quick kiss, but didn’t let her go. “I think you’re working too hard.”

“What makes you say that?” Sarah said.

“It’ll come to you.” He glanced at her car and said, “Got a flat, huh?”

Sarah rolled her eyes in a friendly way at her lover. “No, sharp stuff. The other three swelled up on me for some reason.”

“That’s not the only thing beginning to swell,” Ross said. “Let’s grab Liv and head home, huh?”

“What about my car?”

“Ah, let’s leave it for now. The weekend is just getting started. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Hand me your keys, then go get Liv ready. I’ll limp this thing out of the way so Jonesy doesn’t have a conniption.”

The hospital got locked down, the two injured nurses were rushed down to the emergency department but couldn’t be saved—both had died when their lungs filled with blood—and the entire floor was crawling with city and county cops. Once Virgil and Murton had a minute, they went back into Ortiz’s room to see how he was doing.

Julia took them out into the hall and explained the situation. “It took three shocks and two direct injections of epinephrine to get Ortiz’s heart going, so we got him back, but he’s not out of the woods yet. They’re putting him on a vent right now because he still isn’t breathing on his own.”

“Can he be moved?” Virgil said.

“They’re going to take him down to the ICU in a few minutes…once they’ve got everything hooked up. They’ve got better monitoring down there. But let me ask you this: Why do you want him moved?”

“That room is a crime scene,” Murton said. “We’ll have to get it processed.”

Evans understood, but felt like she had to make her point. “Look, you guys are the professionals, but how much processing could your crime scene people possibly do after everyone who’s been in there?”

Murton had to concede the point. “You’re probably right, Julia, but it still has to be done. Same with the nurses’ station. We might need to clear the entire floor.”

“I’ll have security get with the admin people to make that happen,” Evans said.

“What did they shoot him up with?” Virgil said.

“Ketamine. And based on the vial and the size of the syringe, I’m guessing he got the whole bottle.”

“But he’s going to make it, right?” Virgil said. There was a note of anxiety in his voice.

Julia put her hand on Virgil’s arm. “We’ll know soon enough. If he’s a fighter, he will. Ketamine is becoming a real problem…not only in our state, but others. It’s far too easy to get, and people don’t think it’s dangerous because it’s not really addictive in the traditional sense, but it can be deadly, as you’ve just witnessed.” She looked Virgil right in the eyes and said, “I can tell you this, though. If you hadn’t done the things you did…pressing the alarm button, the chest compressions, and putting the oxygen mask on him, we wouldn’t be moving him to the ICU. We’d be moving him down to the morgue for an autopsy. You saved his life, Jonesy.”

Virgil wasn’t trying to be unkind, but he didn’t want to hear it, and the tone of his voice said so. “Yeah, tell it to Rick Said.”

Murton snapped his head at his brother and said, “Virgil…”

“What? I’m simply telling the truth. When it comes to saving people in the hospital, my batting average is exactly half of what it should be.” Then he started to walk away. He’d only gone three or four steps when he stopped, took a deep breath, then turned and walked back. He gave Evans a hug and said, “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You’re the best, Julia.”

Evans hugged him back, but she could feel a bit of resistance so she let go. When Virgil pulled out his phone, she said, “Who are you calling?”

“The superintendent of the state police. Tell your hospital administration people that there are going to be two state troopers positioned outside of Ortiz’s ICU room around the clock until we can figure out who did this, and why.” He watched as the hospital personnel moved Ortiz out of the room. It took a total of six people to do it because of all the equipment he was hooked up to. Once Ortiz was on his way to Intensive Care, Virgil and Murton followed everyone and they all crammed into the elevator together.

When Ortiz was finally settled, Virgil and Murton stood guard until the troopers showed up. After that, Virgil knew there wasn’t much else he could do until the crime scene people did their job upstairs. He felt like the night was winding down.

The problem was, their night was just getting started because—as Virgil and Murton would soon discover—everything was happening at once.

They just didn’t know it yet.

CHAPTER SIX

Virgil and Murton went to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee, then found a booth at the far corner where they could have some privacy. Murton took a sip of his coffee, winced at the flavor, pushed his cup aside, and said, “Run it for me.”

“You know most of it,” Virgil said. “When I got to Ortiz’s room, some woman—I didn’t get a name—who was either a nurse, or pretending to be one, opened the door just as I was getting ready to step inside. I damn near fell over.”

Murton didn’t want to interrupt, but he did anyway, mainly because he wanted Virgil’s thinking to stay between the lines. “Just so you know, the woman definitely wasn’t a nurse.”

“I suspected as much,” Virgil said. “How’d you know?”

“In a minute. Keep going.”

Virgil slid his own cup of coffee aside and said, “Anyway, she was wearing gloves…I didn’t really find that out of place because nurses wear gloves all the time, right? So, she sort of pushed me back—wasn’t aggressive or anything like that—but in hindsight I realize she didn’t want me going into that room.”

“How could you tell?” Murton said.

“Well, she said Ortiz was sleeping, and she sort of guided me away from the room. Then she started chatting me up. Hell, she even told me that her shift was over, and asked me out for a cup of coffee…or something stronger.”

“So, we’re clearly dealing with a sociopath,” Murton said.

Despite the situation, that got a chuckle out of Virgil. “Yeah, I guess so.” Then he pulled out his phone and made a quick call.

“Who are you calling?”

“Mimi. I want her and Chip to lead the crime scene crew over here.” Mimi Phillips and Chip Lawless were the crime scene technicians for the MCU. “Metro’s people are good, but unless they’ve got someone supervising, they’re going to be stepping all over each other and no one will be able to tell what’s what.”

When Mimi answered the phone, Virgil spent a few minutes speaking with her and explained what was going on, then asked her to get whatever she needed from the MCU facility and find Lawless, then get to work. “The chief technology officer of the hospital isn’t here right now—Murton already checked—but he’s on his way. Make Chip’s first order of business to get us a copy of every bit of security footage they’ve got. Murt and I are going to try to get a look at it, but I’ll let Chip handle the copying for chain of custody.”

Mimi told Virgil they’d take care of it, then ended the call.

Virgil stuck his phone back in his pocket, looked at Murton and said, “Okay, where were we?”

Murton grinned and said, “In agreement that you were speaking with what any reasonably intelligent person would describe as a seriously deranged woman…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Virgil told Murton the rest of it, then finished with, “I’ll tell you something, Murt: If she hadn’t tossed that hospital badge across the counter before she disappeared down the stairs, Ortiz would be dead right now because I was going to do what she said: I was going to leave him alone. I got lucky when I saw her do it, but I don’t know why she did.”

“Didn’t want to get caught with it,” Murton said. “That’s how I knew she wasn’t an actual hospital employee. I checked with hospital security. The badge belonged to one of the nurses who died.”

They were all standing by the front door of the house, and Ross had Olivia in one arm and Ellie Rae in the other while Huma held Aayla. Both girls were giggling with delight at Ross, who was sort of bouncing them around. Huma smiled at him and said, “You’re good with kids. They adore you.”

Ross grinned and said, “What’s not to adore? I know myself…and I know my schedule.” He was looking at Sarah when he spoke.

When Sarah heard that, she shook her head. “That’s why you’re here. I forgot. This was your night to pick up Liv.”

“No big deal,” Ross said. “Besides, now we all get to ride home together.”

Huma parked Aayla on her hip like a pro, then reached out for Ellie Rae to take her from Ross, but Ellie Rae didn’t want to let go. Huma laughed and said, “We may need to surgically separate them.”

“They are like sisters,” Sarah said. Then, with little forethought, she looked at Huma and said, “Why don’t you let us keep all the girls tonight? Give yourself some quiet time.”

“I’d love to,” Huma said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Ross, ever the detective, didn’t mind at all, but he did have a question. “That was an awfully quick yes. Is there something we should know?”

Huma laughed and said, “Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway. Delroy called me earlier and said Ziggy is coming to the bar tonight. He might do a few songs with the house band. I’d love to see him perform.”

“Then we’re definitely taking her,” Sarah said. “But do me a favor, will you?”

“Of course,” Huma said. “What is it?”

“Stay close to Delroy. If Ziggy gets one look at you, we might never see you again.”

Huma smiled at the compliment, then said, “Give me two minutes to grab the other car seat.”

“Thanks,” Ross said. “I’ll get the one from Sarah’s car.” He handed the girls off, then jogged over to Sarah’s vehicle, got the seat buckled into his squad car next to Olivia’s, did the same for Ellie Rae’s, then loaded all three of the girls inside, giving them each a little rib tickle.

“Have fun tonight,” Sarah said to Huma. “Wear something that will knock their socks off.”

Huma let a little of her manufactured Jamaican accent out and said, “Don’t you worry, you. Dey be drooling at da sight of me.”

Everyone got a good laugh out of that, and Ross said they’d be back tomorrow morning with Aayla and Ellie Rae…and to take care of Sarah’s car. “Tell Jonesy the keys are in the ignition if he needs to move it or something.”

Huma said she would, then leaned into the squad car, kissed Aayla goodbye and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, you.”

“I see you, you too, you,” Aayla said.

Huma looked at Sarah and Ross and gave them a shrug. “She’s still getting the hang of it.”

Once they were on their way, Sarah turned to Ross and said, “Hey, want to have a little fun with one of the guards? I’m speaking of Frank.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“You know that deadpan stare you like to give someone when they say something you don’t like?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“When we get to the end of the road, slow way down and use it on him.”

Ross was suddenly a little suspicious. “Why? What’d he do?”

Sarah smiled. “Nothing. But why not have some fun when you can?”

“Okay, whatever you want, except I’m hoping you’ll tell me why at some point, because⁠—”

When Ross stopped talking, Sarah looked at him and said, “Hey, what is it?”

They were less than a mile from the intersection, and Ross did three things at once: He killed the headlights on his squad car, slammed on the brakes, then held up a hand, and said, “Shh…listen.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

Ross lowered his window, then they both clearly heard the sound of automatic weapons gunfire off in the distance.

“Is that what I think it is?” Sarah said.

Ross nodded, but didn’t speak. He put the transmission in Reverse, spun the wheel, then dropped the car into Drive and got them headed back toward the house. Sarah had one hand on the dash, and the other on the door to brace herself. “Careful, Ross. We’ve got some precious cargo in the back seat.”

Ross let the cargo comment go and said, “Get Huma on the phone. Tell her to get over to Murton’s right now. We’re ninety seconds out. She knows about his safe room, right?”

Sarah already had her phone out. “She does.”

“Tell her to keep all the lights off, open the back door by the deck, then wait right outside the safe room.” When Ross looked in the rearview mirror, he saw headlights closing in on them. He increased his speed—a dangerous thing to do in the dark—then reached down and switched his Motorola police radio to the common frequency. When he keyed the mic, he said, “MCU Four under attack. Gravy Train Lane. All available units: Signal 10. Break: Signal 7 at my location. Break: 10-31, 10-32, 10-35.” He waited for an acknowledgment of his call, then he dropped the mic in his lap and focused on his driving.

Sarah looked at Ross. “Huma’s running right now. She’ll be waiting. What were all those codes?”

“I just called in the entire cavalry. Help is on the way.”

In the backseat, Olivia said, “Mama?”

“It’s okay, sweetie. We have to go back. Don’t worry. Daddy Ross will protect us.”

Ross looked in the rearview mirror again and saw that the other vehicle was closing in fast. He turned on his headlights and floored the accelerator. Virgil’s house was still a half-mile away. Three seconds after Ross turned on his lights the rear window of the squad car blew apart, followed immediately by the front. Sarah screamed, and the girls started crying.

“Get down,” Ross said. Then he picked up the mic from his lap. “Unit Four, Signal 100. Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired. Officer needs immediate assistance…”

Mimi Phillips, the lead crime scene investigator for the Major Crimes Unit, got her partner, Chip Lawless, on the phone and said, “I’m about to ruin your Friday evening.”

“Can’t happen,” Lawless said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, that is.”

“Never,” Mimi said. “I’m more excited than I’ve ever been. Most of my stuff is boxed up, and the landlord tells me that he’s already got my place rented, so I won’t have to worry about breaking the lease.”

“See,” Lawless said. “I told you everything was going to work out.”

“When do you think we should tell everyone?”

“Let’s wait until we’re all moved in together. Speaking of, when am I going to see you? I thought you’d be here by now.”

“I would have, but it looks like there’s been some trouble at Methodist. Jonesy wants us over there to coordinate with the Metro crime scene techs.”

Lawless blew out a breath and said, “Okay. Want me to swing by the shop and get the van?”

“Nope. I’m already on my way there.”

“Good enough,” Lawless said. Then, “Say, I almost forgot…my camera gear is still in the trunk of your car. I forgot to get it back from you after we took those shots down in Brown County last weekend. Would you grab it for me? I need to swap out the memory card anyway because it sounds like we’re going to need the camera.”

“No problem,” Mimi said. “I’ll meet you at the hospital. Murt and Jonesy are already there, so give them a call, find out where they are inside the building, then let me know. Jonesy wants you to get a copy of the security footage first thing. I’m turning in to the MCU lot right now. Love you, Chip.”

“I love you too, Meems. I’ll see you there.”

And he would, just not the way he expected.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ross was weaving back and forth across the gravel road to create as much dust as possible. He was hoping it might slow whoever was chasing them. Just before he made the turn into Virgil’s driveway, he reached down and flipped a switch right next to the radio. The switch would cut the power to his brake lights. When he began to slow to make the turn, he killed his headlights, and once he was on the asphalt drive, he punched the accelerator and headed straight for the house.

Sarah wasn’t exactly panicked, but she was very scared. “Why did you turn in here? You told Huma to go to Murt’s house.”

“Diversion tactic. Hang on. This might be a rough ride.”

Ross drove up the driveway as fast as he dared, then just before it seemed he was going to plow into the front porch, he yanked the steering wheel to the right and took them through the grass and around the far side of the house. When they got to the end, he turned left around the far corner, and that put them directly in line with both the helipad and Murton’s house on the other side of the pond.

Sarah took a deep breath and said, “Ross?”

“It’s our only chance, baby. Here we go.” Ross drove straight down the hill, bounced hard across the helipad, then kept the accelerator pressed all the way to the floor. He needed the speed to climb the embankment up to Murton and Becky’s house. The squad car had front wheel drive, and even though he was carrying as much speed as possible, the wheels began to slip on the damp grass as they attempted to climb the hill. For a moment, Ross didn’t think they were going to make it, but just as they were about to crest the top of the hill, the wheels caught, and Ross drove right up close to the edge of Murton’s deck. He jammed the transmission into Park and said, “Glove box. Pop the trunk, then get out and stay low.”

Sarah got the trunk open, climbed out of the passenger seat, and said, “I’ve got Liv.”

Ross got out, opened the driver’s-side rear door, and grabbed Aayla, then Ellie Rae. When he turned and looked at the end of Virgil’s driveway, he saw a black cargo van turn in and begin to creep up toward the house.

“Straight inside now,” Ross said. “Up the deck and through the door. Let’s go. We might have bought ourselves sixty seconds, but they’re coming…”

Mimi parked her car in the MCU’s lot, then reached into her purse for the opener to the overhead door where the crime scene van was garaged. She made it almost halfway to the building and was just getting ready to hit the button that would open the overhead door when she realized that she’d forgotten to grab Chip’s camera gear from her trunk. She turned back, walked over to her car and opened the trunk, then grabbed the bag.

But the strap on the bag was caught on something…Mimi couldn’t see what because the trunk light on her car wasn’t working, so she leaned down inside—the remote still in her hand—to get a better look at what the problem was. When she put her hand on the floor of the trunk to balance herself, she pressed the button on the remote without meaning to.

At the exact second the signal from the remote was sent, the motor on the opener kicked into gear, the chain began to turn, the springs began to release their tension, and the door started to rise just like it was supposed to. Just like it always had, time after time.

And that’s when the entire MCU facility exploded.

Sarah and Ross got the girls inside Murton and Becky’s house and took them straight to the safe room, where they found Huma waiting right by the door. She took Aayla and Ellie Rae from Ross and said, “How bad?”

“Don’t know,” Ross said. “Help is on the way. Get inside and don’t open this door for anyone unless they’ve got a badge.” He began to gently but physically push the women and girls through the door. “You know how to work the cameras, right?”

“I do,” Huma said. “Murton showed me.”

“Good.” Ross grabbed the edge of the door and began to pull it shut. “Lock it up now.”

Sarah had a look of shock on her face. “Ross, where are you going? You’ve got to get in here.”

“Can’t. I’ve got a job to do. You’ll be safe. I love you. Now close the door.”

“No,” Sarah said. “You’re coming in here with us. Please, Ross. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I give you my word.” Ross reached up and ran his hand across the side of Olivia’s face, then gave Sarah a quick kiss. Then he stepped out of the doorway and held Huma’s eyes until she shut and locked the door.

Once he heard the locks click into place, Ross turned and ran back outside.

The blast from the explosion blew out the windows of Mimi’s car and slammed the trunk lid down on her back—right at the base of her spine—before it bounced back open. Mimi fell to the ground and hit the back of her head on the pavement hard enough to knock her unconscious. A chunk of concrete from the explosion hit her shoulder, but she never felt it.

Inside the MCU, the fire suppression system kicked on, but there was little left to save.

Virgil and Murton were getting a little antsy standing around watching everyone work the scene, so Virgil suggested they go down to the security offices to see if anyone had shown up yet to let them watch the footage.

When they finally arrived at the office—they got turned around twice trying to find it—the door was locked up tight, and all the lights were off. Virgil cupped his hands and peered through the glass. “No one’s home.”

“All the hospital security personnel are busy with the lockdown,” Murton said. “We could kick it.”

“Yeah, like we need that kind of grief,” Virgil said.

Once Ross got back to his squad car, he reached into his bag and strapped on his night vision gear. He put his earbuds in, then pulled out his Colt M16A4 rifle, along with four extra magazines, which he stuffed into his pockets. He quickly attached the suppressor and made sure the rifle’s selector switch was set to single fire, then began making his way down Murton’s driveway. He knew the shorter route to Virgil’s house was to simply walk across the back yards, but he’d be far too exposed if he did that. The problem, Ross knew, was he had no idea how many targets he was facing.

When he got out to the road, Ross didn’t see any other vehicles, so he ran as fast and quietly as possible until he reached the end of Virgil’s driveway. Two men were up by the front porch scanning the area, and another was off to the side, following Ross’s tire tracks through the grass. When the intruder discovered what Ross had done, he turned back and all three men began moving toward Murton’s.

Now Ross had a choice to make. If he hurried, he could get back to Murton’s house and cut them off. But if they made it inside before he got there, the whole situation could go sideways on him. His other option? Take them out from behind.

He moved the selector switch from single fire to burst, which would give him three rapid shots with a single pull of the trigger. Off in the distance, he heard the beat of a helicopter’s rotor blades. Ross wasn’t much for prayer, and never had been, but he hoped it was Cool. Then another thought occurred: This was either a suicide mission or the attackers had an alternative escape planned, because Ross could already hear the sirens approaching down the gravel road.

He ran to the corner of the garage, dropped to one knee, leveled his rifle, and took aim at the leading man. He took a deep breath, exhaled and waited for his heart to slow, then pulled the trigger. The lead attacker dropped just as he set foot on the helipad. The other men were caught off guard by the gunfire, and as they spun around looking for where the shot had come from, Ross thumbed the selector to full auto and fired at the other two men until his magazine ran dry. He ejected the empty mag, took another from his pocket and slapped it in, then ran toward the men and fired again to make sure they were no longer a threat.

When the helicopter came into view, the pilot hit his spotlight and Ross had to yank his night-vision goggles off. The aircraft hovered down low for no more than ten seconds before pulling back up and began to sweep the area. When the light stopped on Ross, he dropped and rolled, the shots fired from the aircraft missing him by mere inches. He returned fire, but the helicopter banked away, killed both its running lights and the spotlight, and Ross, who desperately wanted to keep firing, kept himself in check because he wasn’t sure the background was clear.

Behind him, a line of police cars was just pulling to a stop. Ross gently set his rifle in the grass, turned to face the officers, then pulled out his badge and held his hands away from his body. “I’m a state cop…Detective Andrew Ross, Major Crimes Unit…”

The Marion County cops who arrived at the scene knew Ross, so he picked up his weapon and strapped it over his shoulder. He’d just finished telling them everything he knew—which, from an investigative perspective, wasn’t much—when Jon Mok and his SWAT team came ripping up the drive in their command vehicle. Everyone was standing close to the bodies by the helipad, and when Mok walked over, he looked Ross right in the eyes and said, “Boy, when you call it in, you call it in, don’t you?” Then before Ross could even answer, Mok finished with: “You okay?”

Ross gave his former boss a casual nod and said, “Yeah, I’m good. Got a little hairy for a second, though. Sarah, Huma, and the girls are still in the safe room over at Murton’s. If your guys could clear the area for me, I’ll go let them know it’s okay to come out.” He tipped his chin at the dead men. “I only saw these three, but a perimeter check couldn’t hurt. I haven’t checked their vehicle yet. It’s the black van in the driveway.”

Jim Wilson, who spent a short period working for the MCU as Ross’s partner before transferring over to SWAT, stepped up and said, “I’ll handle it. Good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Ross said. “But hang on a second. What is it? I can see it in your eyes.”

Mok answered for him. “These assholes you just shot? They killed both private security guards out at the intersection. Any idea what’s going on?”

Ross shook his head. “None whatsoever. I came out here to pick up Liv, and after that, things went downhill pretty fast. We were almost to the intersection when we heard the gunfire.”

Mok gave him a dry look. “Well, it seems the detectives will have to sort things out, then. Thanks for doing our job for us, though…Detective.”

Mok had trained and worked with Ross for thousands of hours before Ross went to the MCU, and in short, knew everything there was to know about how his former sniper operated, right down to the tiniest detail. When Ross didn’t answer him, Mok noticed that Ross was looking past his left shoulder, his eyes going flat, his finger inching up on the trigger as Ross began to bring his weapon to bear.

Mok dropped as Ross’s gun came up and let off another rapid three-round burst. Everyone suddenly had their guns back out, but it was over as quickly as it had started. Another intruder had been hiding behind the far side of the house, and when Ross shot him, he rolled halfway down the hill before coming to a stop.

Ross slung the rifle back over his shoulder, looked at Mok, and finally answered. “You’re welcome.” Then to Wilson: “Now might be a good time for that perimeter check.”

Becky was sitting downstairs at the bar, waiting to hear back from Murton, her phone right in front of her. She wanted to call her husband, but she knew the hospital would be a madhouse, and she’d already spoken to him once. And since everything was under control, there wasn’t much she could do until someone gave her something to work with.

Then her phone lit up, and when she looked at the screen the first thought that went through her head was: Wait. That can’t be right.

Her phone was telling her that the computer system at the MCU facility had dropped offline. Becky knew it wasn’t due to a power failure because not only did they have battery backups, they also had a standby generator that was robust enough to run the entire building in the event of a power outage. That meant only one thing: The power had gone out, and both the generator and the battery backups had failed at the exact same time…and the chance of that happening was so close to zero it was all but impossible. She grabbed her phone and started up the stairway toward the office. The computer system she ran at the bar was able to connect with the one at the MCU, though it rarely happened for obvious reasons. They wanted to keep both systems isolated, but it was possible to tap into one from the other if necessary.

When she made it to the top of the steps and into the office, Becky saw her monitor was running off lines of code faster than she could read them. She pulled out her chair, sat down, and ran the code back and started at the beginning. She didn’t get very far before she said, “Oh my God,” even though there was no one in the office to hear her.

She quickly scanned the rest of the reports that had been sent through, then grabbed her desk phone and started dialing.

Everything was happening at once, and no one knew it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Virgil had just said, ‘Yeah, like we need that kind of grief,’ when his phone buzzed at him. He checked the screen, saw who was calling, and said, “Huh.”

Murton looked at his brother and said, “Huh, what?”

“It’s Jack Grady,” Virgil said. Grady was Virgil’s counterpart down in Kentucky, where he led his state’s version of the Major Crimes Unit, known as the Criminal Apprehension Bureau…CAB for short. Virgil punched the Answer button, put the phone up to his ear, and said, “Hey, Jack, always a pleasure to hear from you, but Murt and I are sort of in the middle of it up here. Someone tried to take out Ortiz at the hospital and things are a mess right⁠—”

Grady needed Virgil to stop talking, so he said, “Jonesy, shut up and listen.” Virgil and Grady had worked together any number of times, and they usually got along well, even though they both had very different types of leadership skills. So, Grady knew he was going to need some help. “You just mentioned Murton. Is he there with you right now?”

“Yes,” Virgil said, already a little irritated.

“Put me on speaker. I want both of you to hear this.”

Virgil did as Grady asked, then said, “Okay. We’re both right here. Make it quick, Jack.”

“I’ll try, but I have a feeling you’re not going to let me. Anyway, here goes…first, and I want you to hear me loud and clear when I say this, Sandy is okay. She is not hurt in any way whatsoever. She’s perfectly⁠—”

“What happened, Jack?” Virgil said. He was practically shouting into the phone. “Tell me right now.”

“I’m trying,” Grady said. “Please just listen and let me say it. I’ll answer any questions I can, but you’ve got to let me tell the story. Murt, you there?”

“Yep. I’ve got him, Jack. Go ahead and say it.”

“Somebody made a hard run at the Said estate and shot the place up just as everyone was sitting down to eat. Two of Mac’s people took direct hits, and both of them are dead. Mac himself caught a through-and-through in his calf, but the medics tell me he’ll be okay. A woman…Linda, uh⁠—”

“Wu,” Murton said. “Linda Wu. She’s Wu’s wife. No one knows what his first name is.”

“Yeah, I’ve already pieced that part together,” Grady said. “Linda fell and broke her arm when the bullets started flying. Everyone else is mostly okay, including the Popes, uh, Nicky and Nichole. Roger Getz…the caretaker of the property? He and Sandy saved everyone else, Jonesy. I’m watching the security camera footage right now, and if I wasn’t looking at it, I don’t think I’d believe it.”

“Where’s Sandy, Jack?” Virgil said. “I want to speak with her.”

“She went with Linda, Mac, and Getz in the ambulance—Getz caught a ricochet in his ankle—and the cell service down here in the hills is pretty bad. Her phone got busted up in the chaos anyway, so she asked me to tell you that she is going to call as soon as they arrive at the hospital. And don’t worry, Justin Cole is with them as well. He’ll stay until we figure out what’s going on. But you gotta hear me on this, Jonesy. Sandy’s okay. She wasn’t hurt in any way at all.”

Murton’s phone beeped at him, and when he pulled it from his pocket he saw that it was Becky calling. And since Sandy was okay, he stepped away from the conversation to take her call. After he answered—and unlike his brother—Murton did exactly what he needed to do. He listened.

Becky quickly told him everything she knew, and when she was finished, Murton made a snap decision. “Clear the bar, sweetheart. Do it right now. Pull the fire alarm if you have to, but get the staff and every last customer out of there. You and Delroy and Robert get out to our place. I’ll have an escort waiting by the time you’re ready. Go right now, Becks.”

Becky said she would, and ended the call. Murton immediately called the District 5 Indiana State Police post, got put through to the watch commander, identified himself and told him what he needed. Once that was done, Murton thanked the man, then ran back over to where Virgil was just wrapping up his conversation with Grady. “Don’t hang up, Jonesy.”

“Hang on, Jack.” Virgil said. “Murton might have something.”

Murton physically took the phone from Virgil, even though it wasn’t necessary, and said, “Jack, there’s a definite possibility that the attack on Said’s estate was a coordinated effort and part of a larger plan, one that’s connected to what’s going on up here. I’ll explain later, but right now, make sure you keep our people surrounded. Every last one of them, Jack. In fact, as soon as you can, get them all to the airport and put them on the Popes’ jet. Tell Nichole we’ll be in touch in less than a half-hour. Got it?”

“I’m on it,” Grady said. “Keep me in the loop.”

Murton killed the call, then looked at his brother and said, “Let’s find a place to talk, Virgil. We’ve got trouble. All kinds of trouble.”

“Where?” Virgil said.

“Everywhere.”

“No, I mean where do you want to talk?”

“Someplace private,” Murton said. Then he looked at the hospital’s security office window, pushed his brother aside, then stepped back and kicked the door in. “This will do.” They walked in, turned on the lights and closed the blinds, then Murton told Virgil everything he knew.

Kentucky happened like this:

Cool had flown Mac, Sandy, and two other people down to the Said estate, where they met up with the Pope twins, who’d flown up from Jamaica with Wu and his wife, Linda. Mac wanted to get everyone together to talk about what needed to be done to get his engineers pointed in the right direction regarding the onboard electrical vehicle chargers.

As that was happening, two men stood on the far side of the estate’s lake, taking turns watching the house through a pair of image-stabilizing binoculars. One of the men had an arm wrapped in a sling. The arm was a useless, wasted appendage that he carried with him from an incident some years ago. He looked at his partner and said, “Take out as many of them as possible. Use the first shot to blow out the glass, then don’t stop shooting until you’ve painted the walls.”

“Would have been better if we could have set up the explosives,” the other man said.

“Didn’t have time to make it happen. They didn’t tell me about the meeting until the last minute. Just row across the lake, do your job, and I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

“If I get back. I’m going in blind.”

“You’re also going in armed against a bunch of paper pushers. I’d do it myself if I had two good arms. Get in the boat, already. I’ll shove you off.”

The attacker climbed into the boat with a shotgun in his hands and a semi-auto handgun tucked in his waistband. He got himself seated, set the shotgun on the front seat, then picked up an oar and said, “Ready.”

His partner reached down with his good arm, gave the boat a shove, then watched as the other man disappeared into the darkness. Then the one-armed man climbed partway back up the hill and sat on a not so unfamiliar outcropping of rocks and waited, the binoculars in his lap. He’d taken the job for the money, but that wasn’t the only reason. When he picked up the binoculars and looked across the lake at the mansion, he thought, Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? Then he set the binoculars aside and looked down at his useless arm. He’d cut it off if he could. It was an odd feeling…to hate a part of yourself.

Mac had just poured himself a drink and walked over to the window to look out at the lake beyond. Even though the sky was clear, he couldn’t actually see much of the lake itself because Roger Getz, the caretaker of the estate, was grilling steaks for everyone. Getz had just flipped the meat, and when he did, the air filled with smoke and flames, blocking Mac’s view. He took a sip of scotch, then turned and looked at Nicky and Wu. “The problem, as I see it, is the coding for the computers that handle the onboard generators.”

Nichole walked over and slipped her hand into the crook of Mac’s elbow and said, “I’m certain we all decided that we weren’t going to discuss business until after dinner.” Then she gave him a kiss and said, “I’ll take one of those drinks, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Mac said. “My apologies.” He fixed Nichole a drink, handed it off to her, then went back to Nicky and Wu. “We will talk about it after dinner. All I’m suggesting is that we focus on where the actual problem lies.”

Wu was sitting on the sofa with his arm around Linda. He turned his head back over his shoulder and said, “Actual problem not code. Actual problem generators.”

Mac was already weary of the debate, mainly because it’d been going on for months. “Look, Wu—and Nicky, this applies to you as well—I know you guys know what you’re doing, but the engineers are telling me it just won’t work the way you’ve got it set up.”

“Will work,” Wu said. “Need either smaller or lighter generators. Both would be best.”

Nicky jumped into the conversation. “My little Asian friend is right, Mac. The code is perfect, the onboard computers work exactly as they should, but you’re not getting enough power output from the generators to accomplish what you want to do.”

“But that’s not entirely accurate, now, is it?” Mac said. “The simulations show that we’re putting out more power than we’re consuming…the net effect of which should be full sustainability.”

“Then stimulations wrong,” Wu said.

“That’d be simulations, Wu,” Nicky said.

Wu looked at Linda. “Every single time. It like he lives for it.”

Nichole cleared her throat, but Wu simply laughed. “It true.”

“Look, I know you guys have more money than God, but the company has already invested millions into this project, a great deal of which came from your organization. I want this to work, and I think you all do as well. So how do we fix it?”

“Wu already say. Smaller or lighter generators.”

Mac shook his head. “Smaller is out of the question, Wu. If we go smaller, the power output would be insufficient.”

“Mac, the power output is already insufficient,” Nicky said. “Let me ask you this: When your engineers ran the simulations, did they account for the extra weight or the coefficient of drag?”

Mac glanced at Sandy, who simply shook her head. He didn’t know if that meant they hadn’t, or Sandy didn’t know. “I’ll look into that, but we need some fresh ideas on the table.”

“I think we need dinner on the table, darling,” Nichole said.

“I’ll get the salad going,” Sandy said. “Linda? Care to join me?”

Linda said she did, mainly to get away from the debate.

“You know,” Nicky said, “if you went with ceramics on the generators, you might be able to shave off enough weight to overcome the coefficient of drag problem.”

Mac sighed. “If we go with ceramics, that would mean a complete retooling of the plant…again. The costs alone would be enormous, not to mention the amount of time we would lose. There is more than one vehicle manufacturer out there making great strides with hydrogen fuel cell programs, and I don’t want to be standing around with my dick in my hand when everyone goes zipping past in the most fuel-efficient vehicles the world has ever seen.”

“They still have the infrastructure problem,” Nicky said. “It’ll be years…decades, even…before that happens.”

Like that…back and forth around the room, all the way up until Getz finally walked in with the steaks.

Then everything went to hell.

“Dinner is served,” Getz said. He placed the tray of steaks on the table, then finished with, “Let me get the mushroom sauce off the stove.”

Everyone began to take their seats, Linda had just walked out of the kitchen with a huge salad bowl, and that’s when the entire glass wall that looked out over the lake shattered from a shotgun blast.

Linda screamed, dropped the salad, and as she fell, her arm cracked against the side of the doorway. Mac grabbed Nichole by the shoulder and pulled her down to the floor, then did something stupid. He stood up.

The next two blasts from the shotgun killed two of Mac’s company executives at the table, and Mac himself caught a pellet in his calf that took him back down. He looked at Nichole and shouted, “Call 9-1-1.”

Sandy and Getz were still in the kitchen when the shooting started, and Sandy tried to run out to the dining room to see what was happening. Getz grabbed her arm to hold her back, and said, “Wait.” Then he reached into the cabinet over the refrigerator, pulled out a Beretta M9 semi-automatic handgun, and said, “Know how to use this?”

Sandy took the gun, checked the magazine, slapped it back in place, pulled the slide to chamber a round, released the safety, then said, “Yep. Let’s go.”

“Hang on, there.” Getz reached into the pantry, pushed a trip lever that slid a portion of the wall back, and grabbed a Heritage 92 Ranch Hand 357 rifle that was hidden on the other side. He didn’t bother to check if it was loaded or not, because he’d put it there and knew it held six rounds. He looked at Sandy and said, “C’mon, out the side door. That’ll take us around the corner. Hopefully we’ll have an angle from there.”

The shooter’s shotgun had jammed when he tried to pump the action, a spent cartridge caught in the ejection port. He tossed the shotgun aside and pulled out his handgun. He was backing up and firing blindly through the empty hole where the window used to be, but his shots were all off the mark because his aim was high and his targets were all on the floor.

When he saw Sandy and Getz come around the side of the building, he turned his gun on them and fired twice. Both shots missed, but one clipped the square stone support pillar at the corner of the deck, ricocheted away, hit Getz in the ankle, and he went down without getting a shot off. Sandy leveled her gun at the intruder and did what she’d been taught at the police academy years ago. She put two rounds into the man, center mass, then grabbed Getz by the collar and began dragging him back around the corner, her gun still fixed on the intruder.

Sandy didn’t know if there were any other shooters out there or not, so she got Getz inside, ushered everyone up the back stairwell, and waited, her gun ready, until the police arrived.

No other intruders tried to enter the premises, but off in the distance on the far side of the lake, the man with one arm in a sling held a pair of binoculars and watched the whole thing. When it was over, he climbed back up to the top of the hill—no easy task with a useless arm—then got in his car and drove away, leaving the estate behind in his rearview mirror. It wasn’t the perfect outcome, but it’d do for now…he hoped.

Thirty minutes later Grady and Cole showed up, took charge of the scene, and when Sandy showed the security footage to Grady and told him everything she knew, he tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself.

“What’s with the look?” Sandy said.

“Jonesy’s going to have a conniption when I call him. C’mon, let’s get you guys out of here, huh?”

CHAPTER NINE

Becky had given Murton the basics, which he in turn passed on to Virgil, but there was so much information…so many things happening at once, that both men were having trouble parsing it into any sort of actionable plan. They were both talking to each other at once, and neither of them were doing much listening. Finally, Virgil held up his hands and said, “Stop. Just stop. We’ve got to take this one step at a time.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Murton said.

Virgil stood and began moving around the room, mainly because he’d discovered some time ago that he did his best thinking while on his feet. “We need to start from the top down, because we don’t know where this is coming from, who’s behind it, or why.”

“When you say top down, you’re speaking of Cora.”

“I am,” Virgil said. “Get the superintendent on the line and double her security. In fact, triple it for the time being.”

Murton said he’d handle it, and made the call. As he was doing that, Virgil tried to call Mac but couldn’t get through. When that call failed, he called Becky. “Did you clear the bar?”

“Yes. Everyone is out, and the place is secure…for now anyway. I’m with Delroy and Robert in my car, and we’ve got two state troopers flanking us back to the house. I’ve already talked to Jon Mok, and he’s going to split his team for the duration and handle security at the intersection, so we should be fine there.”

“Good. What do we know about Mimi?”

Lawless walked into the room right when Virgil asked the question. “What about Mimi?”

Into the phone, Virgil said, “Hang on, Becks.” Then he pointed at a chair and said, “Take a seat. I need two minutes.”

Lawless sat, and Virgil said, “Go ahead, Becks.”

“Nothing yet,” Becky said. “I thought since you guys were at the hospital, you’d know more than I do.”

“Okay, we’ll check on her. Let me ask you something: How much work can you do from your house?”

“I can do some, Jonesy, but if you’re talking about extensive research like I normally do, I’m going to need the equipment at the bar. There’s no other way around it.”

“Can we move it…or replace it at the house? The budget goes out the window on this one.”

“Both can be done, obviously,” Becky said. “But the real issue is time. Moving or replacing would take far too long. Besides, we don’t even know where to start…or do we?”

“Not exactly,” Virgil said. “But I’m hoping we’ll be able to piece some things together and find a launching point.”

“It sounds like you might have something going already.”

“We don’t really, but Kentucky is involved as well, so that gives us something to consider.”

“Wait,” Becky said. “What do you mean? I don’t know anything about Kentucky.”

Virgil gave her the basics of what had happened at the Said estate, and finished with, “So, our initial thinking is someone wanted us all running around at the same time like our hair is on fire, but we don’t know why. None of that matters right now anyway. It’s safety first from here on out. Get home, get safe, keep Ross there, and Murt and I will be back as soon as possible.”

“What about the rest of the unit?”

“We’ve already made those calls. Mayo and Baker are on their way here, and Rosencrantz is headed to the house with Lucy. You could save me some time if you can get Cool out to the airport and ready to go. The Pope crew, Mac, and Sandy are going to be showing up there soon.”

“I’ll call him as soon as we hang up. Do me a favor?” Becky said.

“What’s that?”

“You guys…you and Murt. You think you’re invincible, but you’re not. Don’t do anything until we can all get together and figure some things out. Will you do that for me?”

“I love you too, Becky. Don’t worry, we’ll see you soon.”

Chip Lawless was smart, and he was able to piece part of Virgil’s conversation together simply by listening to what was said. When Virgil ended the call, Lawless stood and said, “What happened, and where is she?”

“The last time we checked—which was less than five minutes ago—she was still en route here,” Murton said. He glanced at Virgil. “Cora is set. The mansion is surrounded, and she’ll have the full escort for the duration. She’s not happy about it, but she understands.” Then back to Lawless: “Mimi should be showing up in the emergency department very soon.”

“That’s only half an answer,” Lawless said. “If that.”

Virgil put his hand on Lawless’s shoulder and said, “She was injured at the MCU facility, Chip.”

“Injured? Injured how?”

Virgil glanced away for a second, then said, “A bomb went off inside the building. We’re working with limited information, but as far as we know, she was still in the parking lot. But…she has an injury to her lower spine and her shoulder—we don’t know the extent of those yet—and she was knocked unconscious after the blast. Unless something has changed in the last five minutes, she, uh, hasn’t regained consciousness as of yet.”

When he heard that, Lawless ran from the room and headed down to the emergency department. He’d no sooner left when the hospital’s chief technology officer, a guy by the name of Jake Hole, walked into the room and introduced himself. He looked at Virgil and Murton and said, “Sorry it took me so long to get here. The lockdown is creating chaos out there. What the heck happened to my door?”

“No idea,” Murton lied. “We need to see some footage if you can pull it up for us, though.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” Hole said. “I’ll also be able to see what happened to my door. It sort of pisses me off because they’re going to take the repair bill right out of my budget.”

Murton looked at Virgil, who simply shrugged.

“I, uh, may have misspoken regarding the door,” Murton said. “You see, what happened was sort of a heat of the moment thing. We thought someone might have been hiding inside, so I had to kick the door. Don’t worry about the repair bill. I mean, who needs that kind of grief, right? The state will cover it, won’t they, Virg? Hey, Jones-man?”

Virgil and Murton spent a few minutes watching the hospital security footage, but a casual review didn’t really show them much more than they already knew. Murton gave Becky’s phone number to Hole and said, “Look, we’ve got to go, but run a copy of the footage and get it to that number, if you would. Also, at some point you’re going to be hearing from a guy by the name of Chip Lawless. He’s one of us, and he’ll want a copy as well. There will be some paperwork involved for chain of custody and all that.”

Hole said he’d handle it, then Virgil asked if he could see one more angle from the cameras. “It was right before I went through the door and into Detective Ortiz’s room.”

“Yeah,” Hole said. “What angle do you need?”

“End of the hall. I saw a guy in a business suit standing at the end of the hallway watching me. I’d like to get a look at his face, if I could.”

“Just a second,” Hole said. He fiddled with the keyboard for a few seconds, then ran the footage. “Here you go, Detective.”

They all watched the video play on the monitor for a few seconds, but no one saw what Virgil had described. “Are you sure that’s the right angle?” Murton said.

Hole nodded. “Yeah, I’m positive. Watch…let me back it up and zoom out.” Hole did that, then hit the Play button again. “See, there’s your partner pushing through the doorway. There’s no one at the end of the hall, sir. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil said.

Just before they left the security room to head down to the emergency department to check on Mimi, Murton looked at Hole and said, “Anyone ever give you a hard time about your last name?”

Hole gave him a frown and said, “No. Why would they?”

Murton opened his mouth to answer, thought better of it, and instead said, “No reason. Have a nice night.”

Once they were gone, Hole muttered to himself. “You too, asshole.”

In the elevator, Virgil tried Mac again, but still couldn’t get an answer. He shoved the phone in his pocket, then pulled it right back out, called Nichole, and finally got through.

“Are you okay?” Virgil said.

“Jonesy, hello. Yes, I’m fine. We’re making a quick run to the hospital to check on everyone, then it’s straight to the airport for us as soon as Linda’s arm is set. The medics who showed up at the Said estate told us they didn’t think the break was too bad, but she’ll need X-rays and all that. Do you have any idea where this is coming from, or why?”

“Not yet,” Virgil said. “But I can promise you this: We’re going to find out. I take it you’re going back to Jamaica?”

“I think that’s the wisest choice right now,” Nichole said.

“I agree. But before you do, I’m hoping you and I might have a chance to speak with each other…in person.”

“I can make that happen,” Nichole said. “Just tell me when and where.”

“Call me or Murton once you’re on board your jet. I assume your plane is at the Capital City Airport in Frankfort?”

“It is.”

“Good. If you could run everyone back up to Indy, I’d appreciate it. Let us know when you’re leaving. We’ll meet you at the Million Air FBO.”

“Will do,” Nichole said. “And Jonesy?”

“Yeah?”

“That wife of yours…she saved the rest of us. I’m terribly sorry about what happened to Mac’s other people, but I get more and more impressed with Sandy every time we see each other.”

“Me too,” Virgil said. “See you soon.”

Virgil and Murton had just stepped off the elevator when they ran into Julia. She pulled them aside and said, “Look, I’ve got some good news and some not so good news.”

“What’s the good?” Murton said. “We could use some.”

“Ortiz is awake,” Evans said. “He’s a bit groggy, which is to be expected, but it looks like he’s going to make it. He’s off the vent and breathing on his own.”

Virgil rubbed his face with both hands. “Ah, that’s great, Julia. Thank you. Look, about before…what I said to you?”

Evans didn’t want to hear it. “Jonesy, stop. Adrenaline is a powerful thing. Yours was running on overdrive, and probably still is. All is forgiven. Always. Let it go. I have.”

Murton cleared his throat and said, “You mentioned some not so good news?”

Evans puffed her cheeks. “Mimi is hurt…badly. She’s going to need spinal surgery at some point, but that’s not the main concern right now.”

“What is?” Virgil said.

Evans looked at Virgil and Murton and said, “You guys have kids, so I know you’ve probably heard the rule about them bumping their heads.”

Murton nodded. “Yeah, we know the rule, Julia. If they end up with a bump, they’re probably okay, but if they end up with a dent, they’re in big trouble.”

“That’s the one. Mimi hit her head hard. Very hard, in fact. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come right out with it. She has a hell of a dent, which is another way of saying her skull is fractured. The neurological scans do not look good.”

Virgil threw his grammar out the window and said, “How not good?”

“It’s no different than what happened to Sara’s former boyfriend, Gary White. The pressure is building inside her skull, and if the neurologists can’t get it under control she might not survive the night.”

“So, they’re going to operate?” Virgil said.

“They already are, Jonesy. She went into emergency surgery five minutes ago. I was just coming to find you guys to let you know. Mayo and Baker are in the surgical waiting area with Chip, who is not handling things very well right now, as you might imagine. I’ve given him a mild sedative, but if you had planned on him working this thing here at the hospital, you’d better find someone else. He is definitely not up to the task.”

Virgil felt like he and Murton needed to be in five different places at once. “Okay, thanks, Julia. We’ll run in there really quick. We don’t have any idea what’s happening yet, but let me ask you something: When do you leave here? When is your shift over?”

Evans glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “About two hours ago. Why?”

“Because we don’t want you to be by yourself,” Murton said. “You’re probably as safe as you can be here at the hospital with all the cops around, but do not go home until Cool can pick you up.”

“How long will that be?”

“We don’t know,” Virgil said. “But promise us, Julia. We can’t do our jobs properly if we have to worry about everyone.”

Evans shook her head, a look of disappointment crossing her face.

“What is it?” Murton said.

“This is the start of my vacation. I was going to go home and do nothing but veg out for the next ten days. You have no idea how tired I am.”

Virgil put his arm around her and said, “Just stay put until you hear from us, okay? Take a nap in the residents’ lounge, or whatever it’s called. I’ll get something worked out for you as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Better be something good,” Evans said. Then she gave Virgil and Murton a hug, turned, and walked away.

Murton looked at his brother and said, “What are you thinking?”

“That we need to be in about five different places at once.”

“Then let’s get to it,” Murton said.

Ross ran over to Murton and Becky’s house, gave the all-clear to Sarah and Huma, then said, “Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but you guys all need to hang out over here for a while.”

“We can do that,” Sarah said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I like to keep my promises.” He glanced at the girls, then pulled Sarah aside and said, “How are the little ones?”

“Confused and tired. They keep going back and forth between it being some kind of adventure, or maybe a game of sorts, but then they sort of blank out when they really think about it. I can see it in their eyes. I’m not overly concerned, but trauma is trauma, Ross.”

“I know, baby. I know. But right now it’s one step at a time. Reassure them that they are safe, and everything is all right. It’s the best we can do…tonight, anyway.”

“What about everyone else?”

“I spoke with Becky. She’s on her way here with Delroy and Robert. Rosie and Lucy should be here soon as well. Virgil and Murton are at the hospital and will be here at some point.” He told Sarah the rest of it, put his arms around her, then finished with, “I like the way you handled yourself out there.”

Sarah looked over Ross’s shoulder and down at the helipad next to the pond. “Right back at ya.”

Then Wilson walked inside, stepped into the main room, and said, “Hey, Ross?”

Ross turned around, let a half smile form, and said, “You’re sort of ruining a moment here, former partner of mine. Did you clear the perimeter?”

“Yeah, we did. You got them all. But you’d better come take a look at what we found in the van.”

And Ross being Ross, said, “Or you could just tell me.”

Wilson glanced at Sarah, then looked Ross right in the eyes. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Ross gave Sarah a kiss, and said, “Hang tight, and stay put. I’ll be back over as soon as I can.”

Sarah said she would. Just as Ross was getting ready to go back outside and over to Virgil’s, Sarah stopped him. “Hey, Ross?”

Ross turned back. “Yeah?”

“What about Frank and the other guard out at the intersection?”

Ross simply shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, baby. They’re gone.”

CHAPTER TEN

Virgil and Murton got on the elevator to make the rounds at the hospital before leaving, and while they were doing that, Murton said, “It sort of makes me feel like a doctor…running around and checking on patients.”

When Virgil didn’t respond, Murton said, “You with me, Jones-man?”

“Yeah, I’m just thinking about that security footage. I’m telling you, Murt. When I looked down at the end of the hallway right before I went into Ortiz’s room…I saw Said.”

“They say everyone has a doppelgänger out there somewhere…except yours wasn’t caught on camera.”

“I know. And I’ll tell you something else: I don’t know if I’m glad he wasn’t, or not.”

“Why?” Murton said.

“It’s all the conversations I’ve had with Dad over the years…I’m still trying to work through it all. Hell, I’ve got video of him and sometimes I still can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe it’s time to quit trying. The universe is full of things no one can explain. There’s no reason to think the experiences you’ve had with Dad should be any different. I’ve heard him speak to me before. Robert has seen him, and you and I both know that Huma can sense his presence. But here’s the thing, Virg: I don’t question it. I take it on faith for what it is.”

Both men were staring straight ahead as they spoke. Virgil turned his whole body and looked at his brother. “And how do you define it?”

“The only logical way there is. It’s a gift. And it’s one I hope to receive again at some point. But even if I never do, it still remains a gift. It gives me hope. For you, for me, for Becky and Sandy and the kids…all of us.”

The elevator dinged, then the doors opened up on the surgical floor, and both men stepped off. They saw Mayo and Baker sitting with Lawless in the waiting area, and Virgil said, “Speaking of hope…”

Virgil gave Mayo and Baker a quick nod, then sat down next to Lawless. “Murt and I just heard from Julia that Mimi is already in surgery. Did the neurologist say anything to you before they took her in?”

“He told me to prepare for a long night,” Lawless said. “I don’t understand how this could have happened.” He pointed at the doors that led to the surgical suites. “She’s in there fighting for her life because somehow someone managed to get a bomb inside the MCU. How can that be?”

“We don’t know, Chip,” Virgil said. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“And how much good is that going to do Mimi? Don’t bother answering. I’ll just tell you. None. It will do her absolutely no good whatsoever.”

Baker stood and changed seats so she could sit opposite of Virgil, on the other side of Lawless. She put her hand on his thigh and said, “Chip, you and I don’t know each other that well…not yet anyway, but I hope you’ll hear me when I say this: Jonesy is right. We’ll figure it out. And it will be for good. It’ll be good for you, for Mimi, for all of us. It’s no different than when you guys are working a crime scene. You do your job in hopes of finding something that helps others. It’s what we all do. It’s also why I wanted to be a part of this unit…because of people like you and Mimi. And I’ll tell you something else: Until Jonesy tells me otherwise, I’m going to be right here by your side until she comes out of surgery. You’re not alone, and you never will be.”

Murton caught Virgil’s eye and tipped his head. They walked over to the corner of the room, and Virgil said, “What?”

“I think Baker is right. She should stay with Chip…at least until the surgery is over. Plus, we’ll have someone from our unit here at the hospital, watching out for not only Chip and Mimi, but Ortiz as well. It can’t hurt.”

Virgil agreed, and said so. “I think you’re right. She seems to have her finger on the pulse of what Chip is feeling right now.”

“It should come as no surprise, based on what we know about her,” Murton said. “What about Mayo?”

“We gotta take him with us,” Virgil said. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Mayo was sitting by himself, watching the conversation between Virgil and Murton. Virgil looked his way and wiggled a finger at him in a come-over-here gesture.

“Where do you want me?” Mayo said.

“You’re coming with us,” Virgil said. “Airport first, then out to my place.”

“Mind if I go check in on Ortiz before we leave?”

“Go ahead,” Murton said. “We were headed down to the ICU next anyway. We’ll meet you there.”

Mayo said that was fine and he’d see them in a few minutes. He went over and gave Chip a pat on the back. “Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got no logical explanation for what I’m about to say, but I have a feeling she’s going to make it through all this.”

“You don’t know that,” Lawless said. “How could you?”

“Gotta keep the faith, man.”

Lawless said he’d try. Mayo gave Baker a nod, then walked out of the room and headed for the ICU.

Virgil walked back over and said, “Baker, you’re with Chip until Mimi is out of surgery. I’m going to send you a copy of some security footage. Keep an eye out for the woman I was speaking to on the video. It’s highly unlikely that she’ll show back up, but stranger things have happened. If you see her, arrest her on the spot and let me know. And no matter what, do not leave the hospital by yourself. Whenever you’re ready to go, someone will come back for you. Got it?”

Baker said she understood, and that she’d keep everyone updated on Mimi’s condition.

Virgil felt like everything was starting to unravel.

And he was right.

Wilson and Ross made their way over to the black cargo van that was in the driveway by the front of Virgil’s house. Both of the van’s rear doors were open, and when they got close, Wilson looked at Ross and said, “Don’t shit yourself when you look inside.”

Ross walked up, pulled his flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on. When he saw what was inside the back of the van, he took out his phone and called Virgil.

Virgil and Murton made their way down to the ICU to make sure the troopers were in place and to check on Ortiz. The troopers were there, and Virgil was relieved by the sight of the men. One of them slid the door open for Virgil and Murton, and when they stepped into Ortiz’s room, they found Mayo sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed.

“He’s sort of in and out of it,” Mayo said. “The nurse told me that’s normal, and nothing to be concerned about.”

“You know what’s not normal?” Ortiz said, his voice thick. “Almost getting whacked in the hospital. That’s not normal.” Then he looked at Virgil and said, “I heard about what you did. Thanks, man.”

Virgil shook his head. “Wasn’t me. Julia did the heavy lifting.”

“Bullshit. From what I heard, she wouldn’t even have known about it if you didn’t sound the alarm. The words I’m looking for are, ‘You’re welcome.’”

Despite the situation, Virgil smiled. “Okay, tough guy. You’re welcome. Is there anything you can tell us about the nurse who shot you up?”

“Nope. I was asleep. Never saw her.”

“Okay, look. We’re running. We’ve got to leave, but don’t worry. You’ve got two of Indiana’s finest right outside the door.”

“Did they really bomb the MCU?” Ortiz said.

“Yeah, they sure did,” Murton said. “We haven’t seen it yet, but based on the reports, it sounds like we’ll need to find a new home.”

Ortiz reached over and pressed his pain button, then said, “Mimi?”

Virgil watched as his friend’s eyes started to glaze over. “In surgery now.” He didn’t want to deceive his detective, but he also didn’t want to cause any undue stress after everything Ortiz had been through. “They just got started about a half hour ago, so that’s really all we know.”

“When you figure out who did all this, put them in the dirt, will you?”

“Count on it,” Murton said.

Virgil’s phone buzzed at him. He checked the screen, and said, “I gotta take this. Baker is upstairs with Chip. She’ll keep you up. Hang in there, man.”

Virgil, Murton and Mayo all left the room, and once they were out, Virgil answered by saying, “Give me two seconds, Ross.”

Ross said he would, then Virgil spoke with the troopers. “Listen, you guys…I appreciate you.”

“He’s one of us, sir. Wouldn’t have it any other way,” one of the troopers said.

Virgil pointed at the door to Ortiz’s room. “I know I probably don’t have to say this, but I’m going to anyway. No one…not the nurses, the doctors…nobody gets in that room until you match their ID with their face. And I’d like you to keep a log of everyone who goes in anyway. Pass the word to whoever relieves you.”

“We’ve already been instructed, sir. Detective Mayo laid it out for us.”

Virgil glanced at Mayo, who pretended like he wasn’t listening. “Good enough.” Then he brought the phone up and said, “Go ahead, Ross.”

“That was a lot longer than two seconds.”

“Figure of speech,” Virgil said. “What have you got?”

“How soon before you guys get back here?”

“It shouldn’t be too much longer. We’ve got to make a quick run out to the airport, and then you’re our next stop. Is everything secure on your end?”

Ross took a closer look inside the van and said, “Yeah. It is. I spoke with Becky a few minutes ago. She, Delroy and Robert are about five minutes out. Rosie should be rolling up any second. In fact, he’s turning in now. Becky told me about the MCU…and Mimi. How is she…do you know?”

“Only that we’ve been told it isn’t good.”

Ross wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so instead he offered a suggestion. “If I were you, I’d get the bomb squad headed over to the bar.”

“The bar? Why?”

“Because I’m standing in your driveway right now looking inside the back of the van our shooters rolled up in. The MCU has already been hit, Ortiz was nearly killed, Mimi is down from the explosion, and this van has two bricks of military-grade C4 sitting in the back. I’m guessing one was for your place, and the other was for Murton’s. The detonators aren’t hooked up, so like I said, we’re secure, but the bar is the only spot left I can think of that they’d try to hit.”

“Good call,” Virgil said. “Keep it tight, young man. We’ll be there soon.” Virgil ended the conversation with Ross, looked at Murton and told him everything he’d just heard. “Your idea to clear the bar might have been a good one. Get the bomb squad rolling that way right now.”

Murton made the call and as they were walking out of the hospital Virgil’s phone barked at him again. He checked the screen, then said, “Nichole?”

“Right number, wrong woman,” Sandy said. “Nichole let me use her phone. Are you okay, Virgil?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally? I’m up to my neck. I heard you saved the day at Said’s estate. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t save everyone, Virgil. Two of our people died. Good people. What the heck is going on?”

“We don’t know. Nobody knows anything yet, except for what’s already happened. I’ll fill you in as soon as I see you. How long before you leave?”

“We’re at the airport and should be ready for departure in about ten minutes. You’ll be at Million Air when we arrive?”

“Or shortly after,” Virgil said. “Look, Sandy, do not get off the plane in Indy until we arrive. Don’t let anyone off…not even the pilots. The airport is about the most secure location there is, so just wait until we pull up on the tarmac, okay?”

Sandy said she’d pass the word to everyone, then told Virgil she’d see him soon. But as it turned out, it’d be a little longer than either of them thought.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Virgil, Murton, and Mayo all walked out to the hospital’s parking area, and along the way, Murton said, “Are we all going together, or taking our own vehicles?”

“I think we should do both,” Virgil said. “We’ll stay together, but take all the cars. I’d rather have them and not need them, than the other way around.” He turned to Mayo. “You take the lead…emergency lights on at all times, siren if you need it. Murton will be right behind you, and I’ll bring up the rear.”

“Good enough,” Mayo said. He pointed at a parking spot and finished with, “My squad is right over there, next to Murt’s.”

“Okay, you guys wait here,” Virgil said. “I’m in the parking garage. I’ll be right out.”

Virgil started to walk away, but Murton cleared his throat and said, “Jonesy?”

Virgil stopped, turned, and said, “What?”

Murton looked at Mayo, who turned his palms up and said, “I know. It’s like the rules don’t apply or something.”

“Happens all the time,” Murton said.

“What are you guys talking about?” Virgil asked.

Murton let out an exaggerated sigh. “Staying together means staying together, Jones-man. Have you forgotten what once happened to me in the hospital parking lot?”

“No, I don’t think I ever will, but I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

“So did I, and it didn’t change one single thing,” Murton said. “Let’s go. You can give us a ride back down here.”

As they were walking into the parking garage, Virgil said, “I was really just testing you guys to see if you’d let me go by myself.”

Murton: “Right.”

Mayo: “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Virgil didn’t say anything. He was busted, and he knew it.

They all piled into the Range Rover without incident, and just after Virgil started the engine, the nav screen lit up with a phone call from Nichole. And since Virgil wasn’t quite sure it was actually her, he pressed the button on the steering wheel and said, “Yes?”

“I see you’re getting the hang of it,” Sandy said.

“I’m a quick study. Are you guys airborne yet?”

“We just took off. Listen, I want to talk with you about the boys. I think we should go get them.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Virgil said. “But they’re all the way up in Vandalia. I think they’re safe enough.”

“I can’t really argue the point, Virg, but these are our boys, and I want them with us. Mac and I have already spoken with Gretchen, and she has two Michigan state troopers en route right now to pick them up. I’ve called the camp, and they’re getting the boys’ gear together as we speak.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Whatever you want, sweetheart. Where are you going to land?”

“The pilots tell us that the closest airport to the camp that can handle the Popes’ jet is Elkhart. The Michigan troopers will take them all the way to the state line, but we’ll need someone to pick them up…right by Simonton Lake. Can you arrange that?”

“Yeah, I’ve got the perfect guy. How long will that delay your arrival at Indy?”

“No more than an hour or so if the boys are ready.”

“Okay, I’ll make the call right now,” Virgil said. “Fly safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, boyfriend. Be careful.”

“Always.” Virgil killed the connection, then brought up another number. When Murton looked at the nav screen, he said, “Good choice.”

“Yeah, the Indiana troopers would have been fine, but—” Virgil had to interrupt himself when the phone was answered on the other end.

“Jonesy, that you?”

“Hey, Jim. How’s everything going up in Elkhart County?”

Jim Bennett was the Elkhart County sheriff, and long-time friend of Virgil’s. “About like you’d expect. Although if I told you what I was doing right now, I don’t think you’d believe me.”

“What is it?” Virgil said.

“You ever eat at Chick-fil-A?”

“Of course. Who hasn’t?”

“Well, I think the LGBTQ folks tend to steer clear of the place. And I just used the word clear, there, with a C in case we’ve got a bad connection or something. Anyway, they just put a new Chick-fil-A in on the north side of Elkhart and traffic is so backed up you’d think it was the second coming of Jesus H. Christ himself. I’m out here with about ten of my deputies helping direct traffic. It’s a goddamn madhouse.”

“Might be a madhouse, but it is good chicken,” Virgil said. “Gotta admit that.” Then: “Jim, I need a favor, and I need you, personally, to do it.”

“Help if I can, Jonesy. You know that. What do you need?”

Virgil dropped the Rover in gear and began creeping down the ramp. He didn’t want to take the time to explain the entire situation to Bennett, mostly because he didn’t have very many answers, so he went with the basics. “We’re getting some pretty heavy blowback on something—don’t know what it is yet—but two of my people are in the hospital as we speak. That means we’re tightening up our security everywhere we can. My boys are up at Camp Tannadoonah right now, and I need to get them home. The Michigan troopers are going to run them from Vandalia down to the state line…right there by Simonton Lake. I’m hoping you…as in you yourself, can grab them and run them over to the Elkhart Airport.”

“Are you kidding? I’m walking to my squad car as we speak. Anything to get out of this mess. How long until they arrive?”

Virgil gave Bennett his best guess on the travel times, then said, “You might have to wait a bit at the airport. Don’t leave the boys alone, okay?”

Bennett chuckled and said, “We insulting each other now?” Then before Virgil could answer, he asked, “How’s Wilson doing down there? Fitting in with SWAT?”

“Like a duck to water. We miss him at the MCU, but he’s doing what he wants, so it’s all good. I gotta run, Jim, but I can’t thank you enough. I owe you one.”

“More than one, I’d say, but who’s keeping tabs? Don’t worry about your kids, Jonesy. I’ll treat them like my own.”

Virgil thanked Bennett again, then ended the call. Murton glanced over at his brother and said, “He’s a good guy.”

“You can say that again.” Virgil made the last turn down the ramp, and when they got to the gate, the attendant took Virgil’s parking stub and said, “That’ll be seven-fifty.”

Virgil frowned at the man. “Seven-fifty? That’s a little steep, isn’t it?”

Murton leaned forward, dropped his head and let it rest on the dashboard. “Virgil, just pay already.”

“I will, but I think he’s trying to take me to the cleaners. I mean, how do I even know that’s the correct price?”

The attendant reached outside the booth and tapped his fingers against the rate sign attached to the side of the structure, which was displayed at eye-level and in plain sight. “I don’t set the prices, sir, and based on how long you were here, the total amount due is seven-fifty.” Then he checked his watch and finished with, “However, if we debate the issue for another three minutes, the price will be an even eight bucks. Based on the ride you’re in, I’m guessing you can probably afford it.”

“Affordability isn’t the issue,” Virgil said. “It’s a matter of principle.”

“Is it, though?” Murton said. His head was still resting on the dash. “You parked, and now you have to pay. It’s the way the system works. So please, for the love of God, country, and all mankind, give the man his money and let’s go.”

Virgil looked over at his brother. “You’re not helping.”

“It’s not for lack of trying,” Murton said.

“You could always go back inside and have someone validate your ticket, sir,” the attendant said.

Virgil sighed. “Look, I’m a state cop, and I’m sort of in a hurry here. How about we just call this one even?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir. It’s well outside the scope of my authority. Did I mention how nice your ride is? How much do state police officers make these days?”

“Not nearly as much as they should,” Virgil said. “I’m serious. I’ve got two other side hustles going just to make ends meet.”

When Murton heard that, he sat up, and said, “Oh for fuck’s sake.” He pulled out his wallet, leaned over and handed the man a twenty. “Keep the change.”

“We’re not allowed to accept tips,” the attendant said. “I could lose my job.” He counted out twelve dollars and handed it to Virgil.

And Virgil being Virgil, looked at the ten and two singles, then said, “You shorted me fifty cents.”

“Actually, I didn’t,” the attendant said. “You took so long to pay that the price jumped to eight dollars. If you’d have⁠—”

Murton looked at his brother. “Virgil, I’m begging you. Just go already, will you?”

Virgil went, but he didn’t like it. When he let Murton and Mayo out by their squad cars, he buzzed his window down and said, “I just thought of something. We’ve got a little extra time, and we’re close enough, so let’s go meet the bomb squad at the bar and let them inside. I don’t want them kicking the door in or some damned thing.”

“What if there’s a bomb?” Mayo said.

“Then you’ll have everlasting eternal peace,” Virgil said. “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

“Don’t you?” Mayo said.

“Well, I believe in something, but I don’t want to talk about it right this second. What I want to do is get over to the bar and save a few bucks on a repair bill. So, if nobody has any objections, can we please get moving?”

Mayo rolled his head over toward Murton and said, “Can I? Please?”

Murton pointed a finger at him and said, “Yeah, but just this once.”

Mayo rolled his head back at Virgil. “Yeah, as usual, we’re waiting on you.”

Virgil gave them both a slow, fake laugh. “Ha...ha…ha. Let’s go.”

“Not so fast,” Murton said. “You owe me twelve bucks.”

Virgil tucked his chin. “How do you figure that?”

“Because I gave the guy a twenty.”

“Yeah. And you also told him to keep the change.”

“Right. Except he didn’t. He gave it to you.”

“You’re making my point for me,” Virgil said. “He didn’t want it, so he gave it to me. Hey, change of plans. I’ll lead. You guys follow.” Virgil buzzed his window back up, burped his siren, and started to drive away.

Mayo looked at Murton and said, “You know, for a guy with so much money, he’s sort of cheap.”

Murton let his voice go flat. “Really? I’ve never actually noticed.” Then, “C’mon, let’s go. I saw the gauges in the Rover. He’s almost out of gas. I’ll bet you any amount of money that when he stops, he’ll only put twelve dollars worth in.”

Mayo thought about it for all of two seconds, and said, “No bet.”

Virgil, Murton, and Mayo all arrived at the bar just in time to save the cost of a new door. Two men were standing right out front on the sidewalk, one looking in through the window with a flashlight, the other with a heavy-duty battering ram in his hands. Virgil gave the men a quick blast from his siren, then pulled up as close as he could. The street had been barricaded in case there was a bomb, so when he hopped out of the Rover he had to jog about a half block to get to the men. “Hang on. That’s my bar. I can let you in.”

The bomb squad guys stepped back from the door, and once they had their helmets off, Virgil recognized them. “Jeez, Russ, what the heck are you doing?” Virgil knew it was a dumb question as soon as it was out of his mouth.

Russ Wendell, the leader of the bomb squad crew, set the battering ram down and said, “Exactly what Murton asked us to do. You wanted the bar cleared, right?”

“Yeah, but when we made the call it didn’t occur to me at the time that you’d have no way to get inside.”

“We do have a way,” Wendell said. “It’s sitting right next to me on the sidewalk.”

“I meant without destroying the place. Don’t you have a lock rake or something?”

“We’re cops, not criminals.”

“Jonesy has one,” Murton said. “I’ve seen him use it any number of times.”

“Well, I guess that sort of proves my point,” Wendell said.

They went back and forth for a few more seconds, then once they’d exhausted the cop bullshittery, Wendell said, “We checked all the windows as best we could, and we didn’t see any tripwires, but it’d be nice to know what we might be walking into here.”

“If there is a bomb, I hope it’s not on a timer,” Mayo said. “We’re standing right here like we’re waiting for it to go off.”

Wendell shrugged. “Part of the job.” Then: “Speaking of jobs, we just came over from the MCU…or what’s left of it. We had to clear it for secondary devices once they got the flames knocked down.”

“We haven’t been there yet,” Murton said. “How bad is it?”

“Well, it’s sort of like a bomb went off.”

“A little specificity would go a long way right now,” Virgil said.

“Okay, it’s exactly like a bomb went off,” Wendell said.

“Russ…”

“Okay, okay. Man, you MCU guys need to lighten up once in a while. The outer walls held, mainly because they don’t build structures like that anymore. Those old post offices are like air-raid bunkers. Solid as the day it was built. But the garage level collapsed, and once that happened, the main floor and everything above it, including the helipad on the roof, fell straight down. You’ve got four walls, no windows, and a giant pile of rubble on the inside.”

“Was it C4?” Virgil said.

“Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“We’re working something that’s connected and recovered a couple of bricks. Might need you guys to go pick it up for us when you’re finished here.”

“We can do that,” Wendell said.

“Let me ask you something,” Mayo said. “How’d you know it was C4? At the MCU, I mean.”

“I used one of the best tools at my disposal.” Wendell whistled through his teeth and a German Shepherd came running over. The dog had some sort of complex camera system strapped to the top of its head. It sat down next to Mayo, looked up at him, and let out a growl.

“He likes you,” Wendell said. “Meet Sniffer. Just don’t try to pet him.”

Mayo moved a few steps away, but Sniffer followed him. “He’s like a bee,” Wendell said. “Leave him alone, and he’ll do the same with you.”

“I’m allergic to bees,” Mayo said. “Maybe you could make him sit somewhere else before I wet myself.”

Wendell snapped his fingers, then pointed at the ground right next to his feet. The dog left Mayo and walked over next to Wendell, where he sat and began to pant. “So, we going in, or what?”

“Shouldn’t you be wearing one of those big green padded suits?” Virgil said. “You know, the ones that make you look like a moldy Pillsbury Doughboy?”

Murton actually laughed. “Hey, that’s not bad, Jones-man.”

Wendell’s eyes got wide. “Not me. I like my life. If Sniff finds anything, he’ll alert us, then we’ll send the robot in to disarm it if we can.”

“What if you can’t?” Murton said.

“We’ll clear the area, wait for the dust to settle, then have ourselves a weenie roast. We keep extra long sticks and lawn chairs in the van if you guys would like to join us.”

“Those letters on your vest?” Mayo said. “I think I’ve figured out what the BS stands for.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wendell said. “I’ve heard it all before, Salad Dressing.” Then to Virgil: “You gonna unlock it, or not?”

Virgil reached into his pocket, took out his keys, and when he did, both of the bomb squad guys—and Sniffer—began backing away in a hurry. “What are you doing?” Virgil said.

“The lock could be booby-trapped.”

Virgil shook his head. “I think you’re messing with me.”

“Think what you want,” Wendell said. “We’ll be across the street and behind the van, outside the blast radius. It’s been nice knowing you.”

Virgil looked at Murton and said, “You think he’s messing with us?”

“What do you mean, us? I’ll be across the street with everyone else. Do you have life insurance? I’m in your will, right?”

“He’s full of shit,” Mayo said. “I’ve known that guy for about a billion years. His practical jokes are legendary. Give me the keys. I’ll do it.”

Virgil and Murton began backing away from the door, and once they were in the middle of the street, Virgil threw his keys at Mayo, and shouted, “It’s the big silver one next to the Rover’s fob.” Then he and Murton turned and ran.

Mayo caught the keys like a pro, found the right one, and stuck it in the lock. With no hesitation whatsoever, he gave it a twist, heard the tumblers as they pulled the bolt back, and that’s when the explosion happened.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Almost everyone was laughing. As soon as Mayo had stuck the key in the lock, Wendell snuck up from behind and tossed a firecracker at his feet. There was a loud pop, Mayo let out a yelp, jumped back, then he slowly turned around and gave the entire group an Italian salute.

“I saw that coming from a mile away,” Mayo said. “You need to work on getting some new material, Russ. Or should I say, Rusty?”

“Say what you want,” Wendell said, “but you sort of screamed like a little girl there. And simply as a casual observation, I think you need to get some new pants. I can see a few pee dribbles on your khakis.”

Mayo looked down at his trousers and said, “Ah, that was from yesterday.”

Virgil threw his arm around Mayo. “You’re the best, man. C’mon, let’s back off and let these guys do some real work.”

Wendell got serious and told everyone to get behind the barrier, and once they were in place, he cracked the door, called Sniffer over, sent him in, then rejoined everyone else. They all watched the dog conduct the search from an iPad Wendell was holding, the pictures being relayed from Sniffer’s headgear. The dog was thorough and checked every inch of the bar, underneath each table, chair, and barstool, Becky’s office upstairs, and the kitchen. Thirty minutes later, Sniffer walked outside, sat, and barked once.

“All clear,” Wendell said.

“What about the bathrooms and the walk-in cooler?” Murton said. “He couldn’t get in either one.”

“Yeah, but you saw him sniff the gap at the bottom of the doors. I’ll personally go in and look, but you’re good. Give me two minutes.”

A few minutes later Wendell was back out. “Like I said, you’re good, although if I’m being honest, the men’s room could use a little deodorizer. Who’s got a case number for me?”

“We don’t even have a file going yet,” Virgil said. They were standing right by the front door, so Virgil pulled it closed and locked it up. “Put it under my badge number, and we’ll get you something as soon as possible.”

Wendell said that would work, then Virgil gave him his home address and said, “If you could make a quick run out there, one of my guys says he’s got two bricks to be picked up. Ross said they’re not connected to any detonators, but if you could bag them we might be able to get some prints. We don’t have much to work with yet.”

“Your people going to do the printing?”

Virgil shook his head. “We don’t have anyone available at the moment. Let the Marion County people handle it. They should be out there anyway. If they can do it on-site before you take the bricks, that’d be helpful.”

“What happened, by the way? At your place, I mean.”

“Hang on a second,” Virgil said. He turned and looked at Murton. “Get Metro PD on the line and set up a twenty-four-watch on the bar. They can run the overtime through the MCU budget. I want this place covered for the duration.”

Murton said he’d handle it and stepped away to make the call.

Virgil turned back to Wendell and gave him the short version of what was going on, then finished with, “Are you guys always like this?”

“Like what?” Wendell said.

“You know, screwing around when an actual bomb might be about to detonate.”

“Ah, we were almost positive the place was clear.”

“How’d you know that?” Virgil said.

“We were up on the roof before you got here. Sniffer checked the ventilation ducts and didn’t find a thing.”

“He’s that good?”

“You better believe it. I put my life in his hands every time we go out.”

“How in the hell did you get him up there?”

“He’s been trained to climb a ladder. He’s good at it too. But listen, to answer your question about the screwing around, here’s the thing: When you do what we do, someone could flip your switch, so to speak, in the blink of an eye. If we don’t find a way to keep it loose, we’d be wound up so tight we wouldn’t be able do our jobs.”

“I hear ya,” Virgil said, and he did, because he knew the feeling well. He checked the time, then finished with, “We gotta run. I appreciate you guys. The bar is going to be closed for a while, but once we reopen, stop in and I’ll buy you and your squad some drinks.”

“Sounds good. Call your people and let them know we’re on our way out to your house, and tell them to stay clear of that van. Those bricks could have detonators hiding underneath on a pressure switch. If they do and someone tries to pick one up, it’d make a hell of a bang…and a mess.”

“Hang on,” Virgil said. “I’ll do that right now.” He made the call, relayed the information to Ross, then asked Wendell one more question. “What would have happened if you would have had to kick the door?”

“You’d probably need to buy a new door.”

“No, no. I mean what would you have done if we hadn’t shown up? We’ve got about two hundred grand of computer gear, booze, and all kinds of stuff in there. You couldn’t just leave the place wide open to the public. We’d be wiped out inside of an hour.”

“It’d get boarded up. I’ve got a list of emergency carpenters on speed dial. Might have helped ourselves to a beer or two while we waited for them to show up, though.”

Virgil had been to the Million Air facility so many times over the years that he was on a first-name basis with most of the people who worked there. Plus, as a detective with the MCU, he had almost unlimited access to the tarmac area. After they left the bar, Virgil got a text from Bennett stating that the boys’ transfer went off without a hitch, and they were on their way. Virgil shot one back, thanked him, and said he’d be in touch down the road.

With that done, Virgil called Million Air and informed the lobby attendant that he was on the way with two other cars, and that the Popes’ jet would be arriving shortly.

“Yes, Detective, we’re aware of the Popes’ arrival. Their pilots radioed us as they were passing north, on their way up to Elkhart, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not,” Virgil said. “They had to make a quick stop before heading back down here. Is my gate code still active, or did it get rotated out again?”

“No sir. Your code is still active.”

“Okay, thanks. Listen, we’re about five minutes out. Did the Popes’ pilots indicate when they’d be arriving?”

“They should be here any minute now, sir. Our flight tracker shows them on final approach.”

“Good. Is Cool out there?” Virgil said.

The state kept its helicopter at the Million Air facility, so when Virgil asked the question, he knew the woman he was speaking with would know who he was talking about. “He was, but he told me he had to make a quick flight over to the hospital to pick up Doctor Evans. He’s inbound now, and should be here shortly after the Popes’ arrival.”

Virgil was mildly irritated when he heard that, but tried to brush it aside. “Who authorized that…his flight over to the hospital?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know, sir, as it’s not my place to ask those sorts of questions.”

“Of course…I’m sorry. Things are happening pretty fast for us right now, and—” Virgil interrupted himself because he was starting to veer off in a conversational direction he didn’t want to go. “Uh, never mind all that. Could you do me a favor?”

“Of course, sir. How may I help?”

“Get in touch with airport security and have them send one of their units over to your facility as a precaution. Two, if they can spare the manpower.”

“I’d be happy to, but I don’t really think that will be necessary.”

Virgil felt the irritation creeping back up. “Why’s that?”

“Because there are about a dozen state troopers standing by as we speak. They literally have the place surrounded.”

Virgil, nobody’s dipstick, put it together right away. “The governor is there?”

“Yes, sir. She’s waiting for you in one of the conference rooms. I may have misspoken earlier when I said I didn’t know who authorized Trooper Cool’s departure, but it’s not too hard to imagine it was the governor.”

“Okay, we’re turning in now,” Virgil said. He killed the call, pulled up to the gate that gave access to the tarmac, punched in his code, then he, Murton, and Mayo all pulled through and parked their vehicles next to the building. When Virgil turned and looked out across the airfield at the active runway, he saw what he suspected was the Popes’ jet touching down, although he couldn’t be sure as the aircraft was still too far away.

Murton walked over and said, “I take it Cora is here?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I just found out.” Then to Mayo: “We’ll be in the conference room with the governor. Get on the phone with the hospital and see if there’s any word on Mimi, will you?”

Mayo pulled out his phone and said he’d take care of it. As Virgil and Murton turned and walked into the building, the sound of helicopter rotor blades could be heard off in the distance.

Once they were inside, Virgil nodded at the desk agent, who said, “Conference room B, Detectives.”

Virgil thanked the woman, then he and Murton turned and walked down the hall. Murton looked at his brother, lowered his voice a bit, and said, “Ever notice how pretty all the women are who work here?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of hard to miss. I think it’s part of their branding. I’ll bet all FBOs do it.”

Murton chuckled and said, “Well, not all of them. Maybe Jim Bob Roy down at Buzzard’s Roost should give it a try.”

Virgil thought back to the last time they were at Buzzard’s Roost airport in Kentucky. “I think they have a different sort of vibe going...you know, what with the bucket and all.”

“More like a different sort of smell,” Murton said.

When they got to the conference room, Virgil tapped on the glass-paneled wall and saw Cora wave them in. A lone state trooper was standing close to where Cora was seated. The trooper nodded at Virgil and Murton and said, “Detectives.”

“We’ll take it from here, Troop,” Murton said.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right outside the door.”

“Stand your ground, Trooper,” Cora said.

“Ma’am?”

Cora turned, looked out through the window that gave her a view of the tarmac, and saw the plane everyone was waiting on as it taxied up to the ramp area. “When that plane is shut down, escort everyone in here, if you will.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Once they had the room to themselves, Cora looked at Virgil and Murton and said, “Quite the evening, I’d say.”

Virgil didn’t want to disrespect his boss, but before he answered, he knocked on the glass wall to stop the trooper. He gave him a wait-a-minute finger, then turned back to the governor, and said, “The boys are on the plane, Cora. I don’t really want them in here listening to everything.”

Cora waved the trooper back, and when he stuck his head through the doorway, she said, “Take Jonesy with you. Let him reassure the boys that everything is fine.” Then to Virgil: “That work?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep them on the plane until we’re finished. I’m sure the flight attendant can hook them up with some video games or something. I’ll want the trooper on board while they’re waiting.”

Cora nodded and said, “Good enough. Get to it, then.”

Virgil walked out with the trooper, and once they were alone, Cora looked at Murton, dispensed with the usual jibing she often tossed his way and said, “Tell me about Mimi.”

Murton pulled out a chair, sat down, then rubbed his face with both hands. “We don’t have much to go on just yet, but based on what we know, it’s not looking too good…”

As Virgil passed the front desk, he looked at the attendant and said, “Can you let the pilots know that it’s safe to deplane? I gave them earlier instructions to hold until we arrived.”

The attendant said she would, then Virgil and the trooper walked outside. They waited until the air-stair door was lowered, then Virgil went up the steps with the trooper on his heels.

Jonas and Wyatt ran up toward the front of the cabin, gave Virgil a hug, then Jonas asked why they had to leave camp.

Virgil suddenly discovered he had a dilemma. The last time he tried to feed the boys a fib sandwich it had backfired horribly. But at the same time, he didn’t want to frighten them by telling the entire truth. He sidestepped Jonas’s question by saying, “Let me tell everyone hello, and then we can talk about what’s next.”

“Archery was next,” Jonas said. “We were going to do that tomorrow.”

“We’ll work something out buddy. I promise.”

“I was going to shoot an arrow,” Wyatt said. “I’ve never done that before.”

Virgil was nodding and moving toward the back of the cabin all at the same time. “I want you guys to stay on the plane for a few minutes while Mom and I and everyone else go inside to talk. Trooper, uh…” Virgil realized he didn’t actually know the trooper standing by the cabin door, so he looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

“Higgins, sir,” the trooper said.

Virgil made a show of pretending he knew and had simply forgotten, but it didn’t really fool anyone. “Ah, that’s right. I couldn’t quite place you.” Then back to the boys: “Trooper Higgins is going to stay on the plane with you guys. I’m sure the flight attendant can hook you up with some videos or something. We won’t be long.”

Sandy walked up, gave Virgil a kiss, then said, “What’s going on?”

“You know most of it. Cora is inside and wants to speak with everyone.”

Once all the hellos were taken care of, Linda said. “I’ll stay with the boys and keep them company. My arm is barking at me anyway.”

Virgil thanked her, then watched as Mac limped down the plane’s stairs. After everyone else got off the plane, Virgil patted Mac on his shoulder and said, “How bad is it?”

Mac waved it off. “Ah, it’s not that bad. It hurt more when they cleaned out the wound. I’ll survive it. You guys figure anything out yet?”

Virgil shook his head. “Nope. But we’re working on a coordinated attack theory. It’d be a hell of a coincidence if it’s anything else.”

“I was thinking the same thing on the flight up.”

Virgil held the lobby door open for everyone, then said, “Let’s wait until we get with Cora.”

As everyone else headed for the conference room, Mac stopped, turned, and looked directly at Virgil. “I lost two very good people tonight, Jonesy. We would have lost more if Sandy hadn’t been there, because she saved everyone else. But know this: I want whoever is behind what happened tonight caught or killed. That means it’s on you to figure it out. You’re the one who can make it happen.” Then Mac turned and limped through the lobby without another word.

Virgil watched his friend and former boss turn the corner, then began to walk that way himself. It occurred to him that Mac looked older somehow, like the events of the evening had peeled a few years off the tag end of his life.

It made him sad.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mayo caught up with Virgil as he was walking down the hall. “Baker says there’s still no word on Mimi.”

Virgil took the information in, but didn’t say anything. What difference would it make? When they stepped into the conference room, everyone was talking, but no one seemed to be listening. Virgil took a seat between Sandy and Cora, and when he looked out the window, he saw Cool and Julia getting off the helicopter. Virgil turned to Cora and said, “You authorized the flight over to Methodist to pick up Doc Evans?”

Cora nodded. “I did. No one was here yet, and he made the ask. How do you say no to something like that, especially after everything she’s done for us? I have some concerns…” Cora let her statement trail away because she wanted everyone to hear what she was going to tell Virgil. She rapped her knuckles on the table to get everybody’s attention, punched the Speaker button on her phone and said, “Ross, Rosencrantz? Are you still with me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rosencrantz said. “Ross and myself, along with Becky, are standing on her back deck. We can hear you just fine.”

“Okay. I think I’m up to speed on everything,” Cora said. She glanced at Virgil and Murton and continued with, “But if I’m missing something, don’t hesitate to jump in.” She blew out a breath, and said, “It’s been a hell of a night, as you all know. An attempt was made on Detective Ortiz’s life, two of Mac’s security personnel were killed when Virgil’s and Murton’s properties and family members were attacked, an attack that fortunately was thwarted by Detective Ross’s quick thinking and superior skill set. The MCU facility has been reduced to rubble, our lead crime scene investigator was caught up in the blast, and based on the information I’m getting, her condition is dire. As all that was happening, Mac, Sandy, the Popes, Roger Getz, Wu, and his wife, and two of Said, Inc.’s board members came under fire down in Kentucky.” Cora paused for a moment, looked at Mac and said, “You and I will talk later. I’m sorry about your people…all four of them.”

Mac gave Cora a sharp nod, but didn’t speak.

The room was quiet for a few seconds, then Cora continued with, “Ross, Rosie, anything to add?”

“Just a few points of fact, Ma’am,” Rosencrantz said. “The bomb squad cleared the C4, and it is in their possession. They’ll hold it as evidence for us, mainly because they’re the only ones equipped to deal with it. The Marion County Crime Scene crew has told us there were no prints found on the explosives themselves, but they have plenty of latents from the van…not to mention the bodies.”

“Did the Marion County medical examiner do as I asked?”

Rosencrantz cleared his throat and said, “If you’re referring to the, uh, somewhat expeditious removal of the four dead men, then, yes, they did. The crime scene people weren’t very happy about it.”

“Too bad,” Cora said. “Ross?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Did you get with air traffic control regarding the helicopter? Do we have anything there?”

“I did, and ATC doesn’t have any radar tracking data that shows where the flight originated, or where the aircraft went after it left the area. They were obviously staying out of controlled airspace, both on the way over, and back…wherever that might be. As of right now, there’s simply no way to know.”

Cora turned to Virgil and said, “I’ve already been in contact with Kentucky’s governor, and he is in agreement with me that we work these attacks together under the assumption that they were coordinated. That means your team and Grady’s will be functioning as one unit. Any problems with that?”

Virgil shook his head. “No, Jack and I have had our differences in the past, but I consider him a friend, and a hell of a good cop. Nothing to worry about there.”

Cora popped her lips and said, “Very well. I think it goes without saying that I have some very serious concerns regarding everyone’s safety moving forward…but we still have a job to do. I’m willing to entertain suggestions regarding enhanced safety protocols until we can get things headed in the right direction.”

“Nichole and her people will be going back to the island,” Mac said. “Anything less than that is unacceptable.”

Nichole took hold of Mac’s hand and said, “Nichole and her people will be making their own decisions.” Then she leaned over and kissed the side of Mac’s face. “But I love you for putting us first in line.”

Mac reddened slightly and Virgil caught it. Everyone else did as well, but no one knew if it was because Nichole had overridden his decision, or because of the specific words she had used.

Virgil looked around the table and said, “Everybody in this room knows that Said, Inc., Sandy and I, the state, and the MCU itself are tangled up in a variety of ways. Moving forward, I think we need to use everybody’s particular skill sets to the best of our ability while also doing everything we can to protect ourselves.”

“Little hard to find a place to work out of with the MCU building destroyed,” Rosencrantz said.

“We can shut the bar down and work from there,” Virgil said. “We’ve got the equipment and the room.”

“What about security?” Cora said.

“We’re using Metro PD to handle that,” Murton said. “It was Jonesy’s call, but I agree.”

Cora, ever the politician, said, “The overtime will have to come out of your budget.”

Virgil waved the comment away. “We’ll deal with that later. As for accommodations, I suggest we move everyone out to our place. Between Murt’s house and mine, we’ve got the room. It’s the safest place for everyone. Cora, that includes you.”

“I’ll be staying at the mansion, Jonesy,” Cora said. “With all the troopers around me, I’ll be fine.”

Mac’s face suddenly went a little pale, and he said, “Dear God.”

“What is it, Mac?” Sandy said.

“With everything that’s been happening, it’s not hard to imagine that all this is somehow connected to the company.”

“It’s an avenue we’re going to explore, Mac,” Murton said. “That’s why we’re concerned for your safety.”

“It’s not my safety I’m worried about…at least right now. It’s Patty’s. If these attacks are a result of something the company has done or is thinking of doing, she could be in real danger.”

Rosencrantz’s voice came through over the phone speaker. “I think she’s safe, Mac. You haven’t met Lucy yet, have you?”

Mac was suddenly out of his element. “Lucy? No. I don’t know a Lucy. Lucy who?”

“Lucy Hall,” Rosencrantz said. “She’s my, um, girlfriend. She took over for Betty after the incident with the goat, and works for Sheriff Henderson.”

Mac was relieved and curious all at the same time. “How does your girlfriend know about the well-being of the majority stockholder of the company I run? And what’s this about a goat, now?”

Rosencrantz told the story as quickly as possible, then finished with, “So they should be safe enough. The Rez isn’t someplace you’d want to mess with.”

Virgil nodded at the phone like Rosencrantz could see him. “He’s right, Mac. It’s worth a phone call to her, but I’ve been up there. Murt has too. For a few minutes I wasn’t sure they were going to let us leave.”

“I’m aware,” Mac said, rather dryly. “I’ve been up there myself to meet the Chief.”

“All right,” Cora said. “Let’s stay on track. Someone can call Patty and Tony after we’re done. Where were we?”

“Jonesy graciously offered up my home as a new listing on AirBnB,” Murton said.

“It’s the safest place,” Virgil said. “We can keep an eye on everyone.”

Ross’s voice came through over the phone. “Hey, Boss-man?”

“Yeah, Ross. What is it?”

“With respect, I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.”

“What makes you say so?” Virgil said.

“When these guys showed up at your place, they came hard and fast. They killed two highly experienced security guards at the intersection, shot out both the front and rear windows of my squad car while Sarah and I had three children with us, and they brought two bricks of explosives. Given what happened at the MCU, it’s not hard to imagine what they were going to do with them.”

Virgil tried to be diplomatic about it, mainly because Ross had done a great job of taking care of business at his house, but he didn’t really agree with his detective. “I appreciate you, Ross. You did what you had to do earlier tonight, and everyone at this table is grateful beyond words, but you told us that Mok and his crew are guarding the intersection. You of all people should know that no one is going to get past those guys.”

Ross stuck to his guns. “I do know that, and as a point of fact, I’m not disagreeing with you in that regard. But I’m also aware that even though four men tried to kill us tonight, it wasn’t a suicide run on their part. They had a helicopter waiting to pick them up as a backup plan. How safe is everyone going to be with Mok and his crew three miles away if they decide to fly back in and land on that nice helipad you’ve got next to the pond?”

“Then we’ll leave the intersection empty and move Mok right up by the driveways.”

Murton tapped the table with his index finger to get his brother’s attention. “Virgil?”

“What?”

“You know that control-freak thing that you’re always trying to work on?”

“What of it?” Virgil said.

Murton gave Virgil a wink. “Keep up the good work. That’s my way of saying you’re not quite there yet, and Ross is right.”

“I have a suggestion, if anyone is interested,” Nichole said. She was smiling the sort of smile reserved for people who really didn’t have a care in the world. And when Virgil saw that smile, he knew what she was going to say…it was that obvious. What he didn’t anticipate was the entirety of her idea, and the consequences that would follow.

When Nichole told everyone what she was thinking, they all started speaking at once, but Cora held up her hand to quiet everyone. She looked directly at Nichole and said, “That’s a very generous offer, but do you have room for everybody?”

Nichole, her smile still in place, said, “Are you speaking of the jet, or the estate?”

Cora took a moment to respond, then said, “Both, I suppose, although I hadn’t considered the estate.”

“The jet can handle twenty-five people comfortably. As for our property down in Jamaica, between the guest house and the main house we have more than enough room.”

“Good,” Mac said. “It’s settled. Count me in. I can work remotely for a while. Who else wants a week of sun and fun in paradise?”

Virgil looked at Sandy and gave her the brow. He got away with it too, mainly because Becky was on the phone and didn’t see him do it.

Sandy nodded at her husband and said, “Huma and I will be going along with the boys, and Aayla, of course. Delroy and Robert as well. It’d be nice if we could go home and pack. We’ll need our passports.”

Virgil shook his head. “Can’t do it. We can have the passports brought out here. As for the packing, you’ll have to let that go. Buy whatever you need down there…for everyone. Whatever it costs…I don’t care. It’s on me.”

Murton looked at Virgil and gave him a blank stare.

Virgil turned his palms up. “What?”

“It’s on me? Whatever it costs?”

“What?” Virgil said again. “I’m a generous guy.”

“You still owe me twelve bucks.”

Virgil smiled at his brother. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good for it.”

Murton slid the phone a little closer, even though it wasn’t really necessary and said, “Becks? I want you, Ellie Rae, Sarah, and Liv to go as well. Jonesy is buying, so don’t bother packing. I’m sure Nichole can point out the more expensive shops in Montego Bay for you and the rest of the ladies.”

“I’d love to go, Murt, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but what happens when you guys need me to get to work on this thing? It’s not the sort of job I can do sitting poolside while drinking a Hemingway Special.”

“Wu have solution.” He was sitting at the far end of the table with Nicky, and when everyone looked at him, he said, “Becky can go. She knows our system, and we know hers. Nicky and I will stay to help.”

“Works for me,” Becky said. “Cora? That’s sort of your call, though.”

Cora didn’t agree with her, and said so. “It’s not my call, Becky. Everyone in this room knows how valuable you and your talents are to the MCU, but the truth of the matter is this: You work for Jonesy, not the state.”

“I also work for my husband, and since I know he’ll want me to go, count me in.”

“I happen to have quite a bit of vacation time,” Murton said.

Virgil chuffed at the statement and said, “Don’t even think about it.” Then, “Okay, how many do we have?”

“Counting kids and adults, that makes twelve, if my math is correct,” Mac said.

Over the phone, they heard Rosencrantz clear his throat. “I assume Lucy would be welcome to go?”

Virgil sucked on a tooth, then said, “What about her new job with Henderson?”

“I can make it work, Jonesy,” Rosencrantz said. “He owes me one or two. I’ll tell you something else: Ed’s one of the biggest safety nuts I know. If Lucy stayed and he knew it was potentially putting her at risk, he wouldn’t have it.”

Virgil looked at Nichole. “It’s your party. What do you say?”

“It’s her party until I get there,” Sandy said.

Nichole gave her a warm smile and said, “You and I are going to have some fun.” Then into the phone: “Of course, Rosie. The more, the merrier. Lucy is one of us now, so it will give us a chance to get acquainted.”

“That makes it thirteen,” Mac said. “Not the luckiest number in the world, but after everything that happened down in Kentucky…not to mention here, I’ll take it.”

Virgil stood up from the table and said, “Give me just a minute. I think the count is going to be fourteen.” He walked out of the room, back down the hall, and found Cool and Julia sitting in the waiting area.

Cool looked at Virgil and said, “What’s going on?”

“Two things. One, I need you to make a quick run out to my place and pick up Becky, Huma, Lucy, Sarah, and the rest of the kids. How long will that take?”

Cool gave Virgil a relaxed shrug. “All in? Thirty minutes there and back if everyone is ready when I arrive.”

“They will be. Go right now, if you would.”

“I will,” Cool said. “But what’s the second thing?”

Virgil turned to Julia. “You mentioned you were going to do nothing but veg out for ten days…”

“Yeah, I’m hoping it’s going to start when Cool gets back from your place.”

“It could, but how’d you like to spend some of those days relaxing poolside in the hills of Jamaica? All expenses paid, by the way.”

“Remember how I told you it better be something good?”

“Yeah.”

Julia stood and gave Virgil a hug. “That pretty much qualifies.”

When Virgil got back to the conference room, he sat down and said, “Julia will be going as well. So that makes fourteen.”

Nichole pulled out her phone and said, “When would you all like to depart?”

“The sooner the better,” Virgil said. “Cool is going out to our place to pick everyone up. Becky?”

“Yes?”

“Would you run over to my house and grab Sandy’s and the kids’ passports?”

“Sure. Where are they?”

“In my office safe. You’ve got the code, right?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, Cool will be there in about fifteen minutes. Grab the passports, get the girls ready, and we’ll see you soon.”

“Becky?” Sandy said.

“Yes?”

Sandy didn’t really want to say it in front of everyone—her own insecurities gnawing at her—but she knew everyone at the table was aware of her needs, so she just came out with it. “I’ll need my anti-rejection meds for my kidneys. They’re in the master bathroom cabinet next to the sink on the left-hand side. Would you grab those as well?”

“Of course. Text me the names so I don’t grab the wrong pills.”

Sandy said she would, then ended the call.

“The pilots are getting the jet fueled as we speak,” Nichole said. “We can depart as soon as everyone arrives.”

Cora stood up from the table. “Okay, I’m done here.” She picked up her purse, looked at Virgil and said, “Jonesy, keep me in the loop. Get with Grady and his people as needed, and get this thing figured out.”

Virgil told her he would.

Nearly an hour later, after all the goodbyes were said, Virgil, Murton, Cool, and Mayo stood on the tarmac and watched the Popes’ plane jetting off into the evening sky, safe in the knowledge that they were doing everything they could to protect their collective family. But they’d soon discover that if the last six hours had taught them anything, it was this: Safety is a relative term, and knowledge without all the facts could be a very dangerous adversary all its own.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Before they left the airport, Virgil asked Cool to fly back over to the hospital to grab Baker and Lawless, then drop them at his house.

“You think he’s going to want to leave?” Cool said.

Virgil had to admit he probably wouldn’t. “No, I guess not. But see if you can convince him.”

“And if I can’t?”

Virgil considered the question for a few seconds before he answered. “I’ll tell you something about Chip…maybe you’ve noticed this, I don’t know. Anyway, the guy is sort of a workhorse. That’s my way of saying he’s one of the most dedicated crime scene investigators I’ve ever known.”

“It sounds like you might be trying to make a broader point,” Cool said.

Virgil turned the corners of his mouth down. “Yeah, I guess I am. He and Mimi…I can’t say for certain, but everyone is pretty sure that they are an item. I think they’ve been trying to keep it quiet. Anyway, if he wants to stay, let him. There’s enough cops over at the hospital that he won’t be in any danger, and I think no matter what is happening with Mimi, Chip is going to want to work this thing. He’ll be doing it for her, so I say we let him. But get Baker, and I’ll see you guys at my place.”

Cool said he would, then Virgil went and found Murton and Mayo.

“I told Cool to go get Baker. I’m not sure there’s much more we can do tonight, so let’s get home and everyone can have a fresh start in the morning.”

As Mayo was heading to his squad car, Murton looked at Virgil and said, “Baker told Chip she was going to stay with him.”

Virgil nodded at his brother. “I know. But we’re going to need to be well-rested by morning, and that’s not going to happen if she hangs around the hospital all night. Chip is safe.”

“What makes you so sure?” Murton said.

Virgil yawned through his answer. “I’ve been thinking about this night…the whole thing. What happened up here, and down in Kentucky? There’s no way that was a coincidence.”

“Well, I’ve said it before…”

Virgil waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. They do happen. But when you’re talking about more than two things—and we are—then the odds of everything being connected becomes so great that the likelihood of chance goes right out the window.”

“Okay,” Murton said. “I guess it can’t hurt to assume they’re connected.” He turned and looked over his shoulder. “I think Mayo is waiting on us.”

Virgil nodded. “I’m ready, and I’ll lead the way back.”

Murton didn’t mind, but he asked the question anyway. “Any particular reason why?”

“Yeah. The Rover is almost out of gas. I’ve got to stop and tank up.” Then: “What’s with the look?”

Murton stuck his tongue in his cheek. “No look.”

The man with the bad arm was almost asleep when his phone rang. He rolled over, glanced at the screen, then swore under his breath when he saw who was calling. He stabbed at the Answer button, then picked the phone up and said, “Yes?”

The connection wasn’t very clear, but the voice on the other end of the phone was. “You were supposed to call us with a report.”

“It’s been a long night. I dozed off.”

“You’re not being paid to sleep. You’re being paid for results.”

“It may have been premature to attack the Jones and Wheeler residences. I lost four men on that front, your helicopter pilot barely made it out alive, and the main assault at the estate—your real target—went over just as bad. Based on what I know, we got two in Kentucky, but it wasn’t the ones we wanted.”

“You’re telling me that both of the former governors are still alive?”

“Thanks for listening. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m down five men, by the way.”

“Then you’d better find more. What about the Stronghill woman?”

“The intel I have is that she’s way the hell up in Michigan on an Indian reservation. Trying to get at her would be suicide. I won’t risk it. Besides, you told me yourself that she doesn’t have anything to do with the day-to-day operation of the company.”

“Did anything go our way tonight?”

“The Major Crimes Unit building was destroyed, and we’re all but certain our attack at the hospital on Detective Ortiz was successful. As of this moment, there’s no way to know. Christine can’t go back in…they’ll be watching for her. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

“Mr. Carvetti assured us that you were the one who could make this happen. I’m beginning to think that he might have been wrong.”

The man with the bad arm let out a sigh. “Look, I’ve told you from the start that this whole operation would not be a one-off event. You have your interests and I have mine. The fact that they align with each other benefits us both. The way I see it, tonight was a success. The first battle doesn’t end the war…the last one does. We’ve got everyone on their heels, and my guess is they don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“Your guess? Your guess? We didn’t hire you because you’re a good guesser, you idiot. We hired you to get results.”

The man with the bad arm set his phone down on the nightstand, punched the Speaker button, then leaned close and said, “Call me an idiot again and I’ll be rethinking my next choice of targets. Believe me when I say this: You’ll never see it coming.” Then he ended the call.

Christine Brewer walked into the room, looked at her brother and said, “The big boys upset?”

“Tell me you got out of the hospital clean,” Holt said.

“I already did.” Then, because she knew Eddie Holt wasn’t someone you wanted to anger, she finished with, “I gave the cop the whole dose, and convinced Jones to stay out of the room. Social media is lit up right now over the hospital’s lockdown. He must be dead.”

“Maybe he is and maybe he’s not. Either way, that’s not the kind of thing they’ll make public…at least not yet. In the meantime, it’s business as usual for you at the bar. Understood?”

“Darrell had a lot of friends with the county. Most of them still stop in for a beer once in a while. I’ll bet someone could get us the information you need.”

“Darrell’s friends are a bunch of dipshits who don’t even live in the same state. We already have a source. That means when you’re at the bar, you keep your mouth shut. Understood?”

Christine said she did, then asked her brother a question. “We’re awake. You want a bite to eat or something? I could make you a sandwich.”

Holt looked at her and wondered how his life had taken such a turn. Despite what he’d said on the phone, the night had been mostly a disaster. “Do I sound like I’m hungry right now?”

Christine put her hands on her hips and said, “What’s with the attitude?”

“The attitude comes from the fact that I gotta go kill a guy tomorrow, and I need some sleep. Turn off the fuckin’ light on your way out.”

Virgil knew everyone was tired, but once they were all together he realized that nearly everybody present had someone they loved on the Popes’ jet, and none of them would be able to sleep until the plane had safely touched down in Jamaica. So he and Rosencrantz built a small bonfire down by the pond, and Murton and Ross dumped some ice into a cooler full of Red Stripe while Mayo, Baker, and Cool carried over extra chairs from Virgil’s shed.

Once they were all seated, Murton looked at Virgil and said, “You think Nicky and Wu are okay by themselves?”

Virgil turned his palms up. “They should be. Nicky told me before they left the airport that he rented a house over in Geist on one of those apps…J-Low, or whatever it’s called.”

Baker let out a girlish little giggle, and said, “That’d be Vrbo.”

“Whatever,” Virgil said. “I can’t keep up with all that stuff. Anyway, I think they’re good. It’s pretty safe out that way.”

“Tell it to Connor and Alicia Shaw,” Ross said. When he caught the expression on Virgil’s face, he said, “What? It’s an accurate statement.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Virgil said. “But no one knows Nicky and Wu are here except us.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Cool said.

Virgil looked over and said, “What do you mean?”

Cool took a pull on his beer before he answered. “There were a lot of people at the airport, he used his phone to rent a house, and the desk attendant at Million Air fixed them up with a rental car, which he paid for with a credit card.”

“You think someone at the airport could be watching?” Murton said.

Cool shook his head. “No, not really. But they could be. And since we have no idea why any of this is happening, I don’t think we should brush off any possibilities.”

“He’s right,” Virgil said.

Murton pulled out his phone and called Nicky. “What’s the address where you guys are staying?”

Nicky read off the address, then asked why Murton wanted to know.

“Because we’re all sitting over here at Virgil’s wondering about how safe you guys are.”

“I think we’re fine, Murt.”

“So do we, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure. I’m going to put a watch on the address you just gave me. Don’t freak out when you see a Marion County sheriff’s deputy parked out on the street.”

“We won’t,” Nicky said. “What time do you want us at the bar?”

“Not sure. Hang on.” Murton lowered the phone, looked at Virgil and said, “Nicky and Wu want to know what time we’re meeting at the bar.”

“Tell him nine. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I know the plane landed in Jamaica, so I’ll be up for a while.”

Murton brought the phone back up. “You catch that?”

“Yeah, I did,” Nicky said. “See you there. Tell Jonesy the plane is two hours out.”

“I will,” Murton said. “How do you know that, by the way?”

“I’m tracking the flight right now on my laptop.”

Murton made a snick noise, then said, “Gotcha.” Once he ended the call he told everyone when the plane would land, then sat back and cracked open another beer. “Hell of a night, huh?”

No one had an answer to Murton’s question…not that it actually needed one.

The night wore on. Larry the Dog joined them, hoping for bonfire snacks, and when he finally realized there were none to be had, he let out a chuff, then laid down in the grass and went to sleep.Virgil wanted to talk about assignments going forward, but his heart wasn’t really in it. Two of his people were in the hospital—one fighting for her life—and his entire family was on a plane headed to another country for their own well-being. And even though he was surrounded by some of the best friends he’d ever had in his life, including his own brother, he felt isolated somehow. He sat quietly, half-listening to the conversations around him…Baker telling stories of landing a fighter jet on an aircraft carrier at night, Rosencrantz talking to Ross about how well things were going with Lucy, Murton beaming with pride as he showed pictures of Ellie Rae from his phone…like that, for two long hours.

Then Virgil’s phone dinged with a text from Nicky. The plane had landed safely, and everyone was headed back to the Pope estate. Virgil passed the word along, then they collectively decided to call it a night.

“Between the two houses, we’ve got plenty of room for everyone,” Murton said. “So pick a place, and let’s get some sleep.”

“If you’re short on rooms I can sleep with Baker,” Mayo said. “I like to snuggle.”

That got a laugh from everyone—even Baker—though she did shoot him the bone as she headed for Virgil’s house. Then everybody else started to peel away as well until the only two people left were Virgil and Murton.

“You okay, Jonesy?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah. Worried about Mimi.”

“Me too. Keep the faith, huh?”

Virgil said he’d try, and finished with, “Catch you in the morning.”

Before he walked away, Murton glanced at the cross next to the pond. “Do me a favor?”

Years ago Murton, Sandy, Delroy, and Robert had planted a willow tree next to the pond in honor of Virgil’s late father, Mason, after he’d been gunned down in his own bar. When a tornado took the tree down later that same year, Virgil used what was left of the stump to carve the cross as a memorial to his dad. He’d never quite figured out how or why his dead father visited him, but he’d long ago learned to accept the visits for what they were. More often than not they tended to be obscure, if not downright confusing.

“Sure. What is it?”

Murton thought the request would be simple, but he discovered he couldn’t say the words without his voice breaking. “Tell him I think about him every day, will you?”

“He knows, Murt. I’m sure of it.”

Murton looked away then wiped at the corner of his eye with his thumb before turning back. “Tell you something I’ve learned over the years: When it comes to matters of the heart, there’s a big difference between knowing something and hearing it. Good night, Virg.”

Virgil watched his brother walk up the hill toward his house. He sat quietly for nearly twenty minutes, then Larry the Dog let out a quiet little woof, and his tail began to wag.

“Your brother’s statement was right on the money,” Mason said.

Virgil turned in his chair and looked at his dad. He was shirtless, as usual, a bar towel thrown over his shoulder. The scar from the bullet wound that killed him was plainly visible on his chest…pink and fresh, as if it had just recently healed.

“I guess I can’t argue the point,” Virgil said. “But let me ask you this: If what Murt said was true, why don’t you speak to him?”

Virgil’s father smiled and sat down in one of the chairs, and when he did, Larry the Dog came over and rested his head on Mason’s lap. Mason gave him a proper head scratch, then looked at his son and said, “As usual, you’re getting your messages mixed up.”

Virgil tucked his chin. “Am I?”

“I was referring to his earlier statement when he said it has been a hell of a night.”

“Well, it has been,” Virgil said. “Although I find it a little odd you’re using that as your point of reference.”

“What should I be using?” Mason said, his smile still firmly fixed in place.

“How about the one he just made?”

“You’re speaking of Murton’s request…the one that lets me know he thinks of me every day?”

“You know I am,” Virgil said.

“I’ve told him before, Virg. Twice if my math still holds up.”

“You’re breaking his heart, Dad. I don’t understand why you’d let that happen.”

Mason turned in his chair and looked across the pond at Murton’s house. “Ever heard the term transference?” When Virgil didn’t answer, Mason said, “It’s another way of saying you’re putting your feelings on someone else.”

“I know what the term means, Dad. Maybe you could just answer the question.”

“You’re not supposed to understand, Virg. Murton isn’t either.”

“That isn’t really very helpful.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is,” Mason said. “But I’ll tell you something else: I’m not breaking his heart. Didn’t you hear what he told you in the hospital?”

“Of course I did. He was speaking of hope.”

“He also mentioned that he takes it for what it is. A gift, I think he said. Say, speaking of Said, do you really think you saw him at the hospital?”

“I did at the time, but now I’m thinking it was just my imagination.”

Mason chuckled, but didn’t speak.

“Care to let me in on the joke?” Virgil said.

“How many times do I have to say it? Everything is connected, Son. Every single thing in your life. You didn’t see your long-lost friend. He wasn’t there, and it wasn’t your imagination, either.”

“Then what was it?”

“Your subconscious. It’s been beating you over the head all night long but you refuse to listen to yourself.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Virgil said.

“Then you better think long and hard, Virg. I know you’re tired, but find a way to recharge your batteries. When you do, whittle away everything that doesn’t matter until you’re left with the one thing that does. Whatever remains is where you’ll find your answer. You know what’s happening, and why. Frankly, with all the clues that have been dropped into your lap today, I’m a little surprised you haven’t put it together yet. Or maybe it’s not your fault, because everyone is on a different plane of existence.” Mason looked over at Murton’s house again and waved.

Virgil looked that way and said, “What are you doing?”

“Talk to you.”

Virgil was still looking at his brother’s house when he spoke. “What does that mean? I’m supposed to start talking to myself now?” But when Virgil turned back to look at his father, Mason was gone.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next morning, Sandy stepped out on the back patio of the Pope guest house, a fresh cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee in one hand, her phone in the other. Sandy and the boys, along with Huma, Delroy, and Aayla, were all staying together, while the others who’d made the trip had taken rooms up at the main house.

Everyone else was still sleeping…the previous evening’s travel—not to mention the events themselves—had worn them all down. Sandy took a seat at the table and discovered that the Popes’ staff had sent down juice, fresh fruit, bagels, and other assorted pastries for breakfast. She popped a strawberry in her mouth, gave it a proper chewing, then called her husband to say hello.

“Good morning to you too,” Virgil said. “How was the trip last night?”

“In a word? Luxurious. It feels good to be back. I wish you were here with us, Virg.”

“Me too. Maybe when we get this thing figured out, Murt and I can come join you and Becky for a few days before everyone comes back.”

“That’d be wonderful,” Sandy said. “Have you started anything yet?”

“Just,” Virgil said. “We’re at the bar, and getting ready to formulate some sort of plan.”

“Are you certain that the bar is safe? I mean, after what happened to Mimi at the MCU, I’m beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t find someplace more secure.”

“Not sure where it would be,” Virgil said.

“What about the statehouse? They’ve got great security.”

“Murt and I spoke about it briefly this morning. The truth is, until we know what’s going on, the bar feels like the only place we can operate from without endangering anyone else. If this thing is directed at us…and it likely is, working from the statehouse just puts more people in danger no matter how good their security is.”

“You guys have to think about yourselves, too, Virgil. You’ve got to think about your families.”

“We are, sweetheart. I promise you. The bomb squad made a sweep of the bar last night and gave us the all-clear. Metro PD is covering the perimeter for the duration…twenty-four hours a day. Besides, the statehouse won’t work because we need Nicky and Wu on the computers we have here.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“We will,” Virgil said.

“That was too fast and too easy of an answer. I mean it, Virg. I want you to go slow and think about what you’re doing.”

Like a dope, Virgil simply repeated himself, “We will.”

“Okay,” Sandy said. “I can see that I’m making significant progress.”

Virgil forced himself to slow down when he answered. “I promise, sweetheart. Safety will be our top priority. Every single one of us knows who we’re fighting for. It’s not just for ourselves…it’s for all of you. I promise.”

“That’s better,” Sandy said. “Earlier I mentioned Mimi. How is she?”

“I spoke with Chip first thing this morning. She made it through the surgery…that’s the good news, but she is by no means out of the woods yet. I guess the docs had to leave part of her skull cap off to keep the pressure down. She’s in a medically induced coma for now. I think they’re going to work on her spine and shoulder today or tomorrow if they can keep her stable.”

“Is that safe?”

Virgil didn’t know, and said as much. “I don’t know. Not a doctor. But Chip sees it as a positive sign. He said—with what sounded like a fair amount of confidence—that he didn’t think they’d do any of it if she didn’t at least have a chance of surviving.”

“That does make sense,” Sandy said. “Unless it’s just his false hope talking.”

“No such thing. Hope is hope.” Virgil wanted to get off the subject, plus he needed to get busy. “Give the boys my love, will you? I’ll call when I can.”

“You’ll call early this evening, Mister.”

Virgil smiled into the phone and said he would. “Tell Mac to stay available. I may need to speak with him.”

Sandy said she would, told Virgil she loved him, then made him promise again that they’d all be careful before she ended the call. She sat for a few minutes and thought about everything that was going on, then went inside and picked up the phone that would connect her to the main house.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Sandy didn’t know with whom she was actually speaking, then realized it probably didn’t matter. The Popes had plenty of staff, so whoever answered the phone would be able to help her. “Could you please inform me when Mrs. Wheeler and the former governor are up and about? I need to speak with them.”

“Of course ma’am. Would you like me to alert them now?”

“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. Just let me know when they’ve had their breakfast and are available to chat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sandy put the phone down, then went back outside and stared out across the hills of Hanover Parish, and the ocean waters off in the distance. She had plenty to think about.

Murton was behind the bar trying to get coffee started for everyone, but he was having a bit of trouble with the apparatus. With the exception of Cool—he’d flown back to the airport and would remain on call as needed—the rest of the MCU detectives, along with Nicky and Wu, were sitting at the bar, lined up like a bunch of early morning drunkards waiting on an inept bartender.

Finally, Baker couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up from her stool, went behind the bar, and took over for Murton. It was either that or make a run to the coffee shop. “You know, for a guy who is part-owner of a bar, I’d think you would know how to operate the equipment.”

Murton shrugged and got out of the way. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I added the water, ground the beans—is that right? Ground the beans…or is it grinded?”

Virgil had just finished speaking with Sandy and caught the question. “It’s ground.”

Murton narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure? I think it might be grinded. How’s Small, by the way? She doing good?”

“She’s doing well,” Virgil said. He over-emphasized the word ‘well.’ “And for the record, the correct past tense use of the verb ‘grind’ is ‘ground.’”

Murton waved it off and turned back to Baker. “Anyway, I took care of the beans, put them in the hopper—or whatever that thing on top is called—the pot is right there, but I can’t get any coffee to come out.”

Baker turned her whole body toward Murton and said, “Who makes coffee at your house in the morning?”

“Becky does. Why?”

“That’s what I thought.” Then, without ever taking her eyes off of Murton, Baker reached over and flipped the switch to turn the machine on. As soon as she did that, the pot began to fill. “Any questions?”

“No, but I would like to make a statement.”

Baker, who was smart as a whip—if whips had any smarts, that is—knew what was coming. She pointed her finger at Murton and said, “Don’t you dare.”

Murton tried to play innocent. He tucked his elbows close and spread his forearms. “What? I was going to say thank you.”

Baker gave him a look, but let it go. They all waited a few minutes, got their coffee, then headed upstairs to the office. Virgil hung back, tipped his head at Murton, then whispered, “What were you really going to say?”

“That it was good to have a female detective back in the unit who knows how to handle certain aspects of the job.”

Virgil winced. “Jesus Christ, Murt. What do you have? A death wish, or something?”

Wu walked past them both, turned and looked back at Murton and said, “Do not worry. Wu offer protection. Now you owe again.”

Virgil walked into the office, sat down on the sofa, and said, “If I’m being honest, I’m not exactly sure where to start. We’re still waiting on prints from Marion County, and from CAB down in Kentucky.” Then he looked at Nicky and Wu and said, “That’s an accurate statement, is it not?”

Wu nodded. “You true. We have checked your system, and nothing has come through.”

Virgil sort of puffed his cheeks and let his chin drop. “So, as I was saying, I’m not quite sure where to start.”

“The beginning comes to mind,” Rosencrantz said.

Virgil let his shoulders slump in exasperation, and said, “Rosie...”

“No, no, hear me out. I’m not trying to be facetious. Yesterday, over the course of six hours or so, we were attacked on exactly four fronts.” He ticked them off his fingers as he spoke. “Someone tried to kill Ortiz at the hospital, and would have been successful had Jonesy not been there. Sandy, Mac, and his group were fired upon down at the Said estate in Kentucky, an attack that was thwarted by Sandy herself. The MCU was bombed—I’d really like to discover how that could have happened—and a group of men tried to make a run at your place and Murt’s, which my partner handled with his usual flair for the dramatic. That leads me to this: We’re all in agreement that Kentucky is related to everything that happened up here.”

Virgil leaned forward and said, “We’ve been through this already. You’re suggesting that this is coming from either something we’ve done, or it has something to do with Said’s company.”

Rosencrantz shook his head. “Close, but no. I’m suggesting that if we’re going to conduct an investigation where we presuppose what happened in Kentucky is connected to us as a unit, then we have to look at all the old cases where the state, the company and the MCU overlap each other.”

“It’d be easier to find the ones that didn’t,” Ross said.

Virgil looked over at Becky’s workstation where Nicky and Wu were seated. “You guys are up on Becky’s system?”

“I think I just told you we are,” Nicky said. “She gave me everything we need to access any and all information. We, in turn, gave her access to ours, so the two systems are connected and operating as one. Tell us what to look for, and if we don’t find it, I’m sure Becky will.”

“Wu will probably find first.”

“I think slow and steady is going to win this race,” Baker said, her voice filled with just a touch of whiskey. She was looking at Nicky when she spoke.

And Nicky, who very much liked the cut of Baker’s jib, held her stare, then said, “I think Detective Baker is⁠—”

“It’s Emily,” Baker said. “Em for short…and my close friends.”

Nicky reddened slightly, then went on, taking a chance as he did. “I think what Em said is not only accurate, but it does add another layer to the cake, so to speak.”

“What, exactly, are you saying?” Virgil asked.

“Two things, my friend, and I’m going to say them out of order because I don’t want anyone in this room to be overly concerned. First, I believe sending everyone down to the island was the best option we had in the moment, and it still is. Some of you have had a chance to witness the level of security we have in place down at our estate. For those of you who have not, I can assure you that it is top-notch. We’ve spared no expense in that regard.” He glanced at Baker, and finished with, “Or any other, I might add.”

“What’s the second thing?” Murton said.

“Nicky and Wu speak of this last night,” Wu said. “There is possibility that we are somehow perpetually involved as well.”

Nicky rolled his eyes and said, “That’d be peripherally, Wu.”

“Potato, tomato,” Wu said.

Ross pointed at Nicky and Wu and said, “Explain that.”

Nicky looked directly at Virgil. “It is sort of obvious, when you think about it. Jonesy, Murt, Rosie…you guys have known us ever since the, uh, well, ever since we worked for the Indiana Lottery, and everything that came out of that particular fiasco.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes, and said, “Hmm…walking away with over three hundred million dollars could hardly be called a fiasco.”

Nicky held up his hand. “I don’t think we need—much less want—to revisit that particular can of financial worms. But the point I’m trying to make is one that wasn’t really acknowledged last night in any significant way when everyone was running around trying to figure out the next move. Our presence...mine and Nichole’s, Wu, Linda, Lola and her son, Carlos…all of us have been involved in various ways—and still are—with the company, the state, and the MCU.”

“You’re saying by looking at only the cases where every, uh, entity has been involved would help narrow the focus,” Murton said.

“Yes.”

“Still a lot of cases,” Virgil said.

They all thought about that for a few seconds, then Virgil looked at Murton and said, “Can I have a word with you? Downstairs?”

Murton stood and headed for the door. Virgil looked at the group and said, “Keep spitballing. We’ll be right up.”

Virgil left the room, and once he and Murton were gone, Baker looked at no one in particular and said, “What’s that all about?”

Ross being Ross, simply said. “Nepotism. They do it all the time.”

Wu chuckled, looked at Nicky and said, “Wu know feeling well. I tell you story…”

Virgil and Murton were standing at the bottom of the stairway. “What is it?” Murton said.

“Look, I want to make this quick, and we can talk more about it later, but I need to tell you something.” Virgil stopped himself, then started over. “Wait. That’s not right. Actually, I want to ask you something. Two things, to be exact.”

Murton crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure. Let’s hear it.”

“Last night, did you wave at me after you went home?”

Murton tipped his head to the side. “Well, it wasn’t at you specifically, but yes, I waved in your direction, if you understand what I’m saying.”

“I do,” Virgil said. “Could you see him?”

“Nope. But it doesn’t stop me from saying hello in one of the few ways available to me.”

Virgil drew his lips into a tight line, then said, “He did say to tell you hi.”

Murton smiled. “Thanks. That’s good to know. What’s the other question?”

“In a second. Dad told me that I already have the answers to everything that has been happening. Last night he said so many clues had been dropped in my lap he was surprised I haven’t put it together yet. It makes me feel like we might be looking right at it, but can’t see it. I’m telling you, Murt, I laid in bed last night trying to figure it out, and I got nothing but a bad night’s sleep.”

“Tell me what he said…exactly.”

Virgil reached into his pocket, pulled out a slip of paper, and handed it to his brother. “I tried to get it verbatim, but I’m not sure I pulled it off. Anyway, you’ll get the gist of it. I’ll answer anything you don’t understand.”

Murton took a few seconds to read through the transcript of the conversation, then said, “Your handwriting is atrocious.”

“Murt…”

“Well, simply as a casual observation, it really is. But no matter, I’m not seeing anything that helps.”

“Me either,” Virgil said. “But I’d like you to think about it…carefully, and with an investigator’s eye. Think about yesterday…last night in particular, and see if anything jumps out at you.”

Murton said he would and stuck the paper in his pocket. Two seconds later he pulled it back out.

“What?”

“Are you sure you’ve got the order right?”

“Yeah, I’m positive,” Virgil said. “Why do you ask?”

“So he waves back at me, then the last thing he said was, Talk to you. That’s a little odd, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know, Murt. Half the stuff he says seems odd. Most of it always happens at the end of the conversation.”

“That’s not what I mean. I guess I’m asking about his tone of voice…right there at the end. Was it his way of saying, see you later…you know, like, talk to ya later, or was it more along the lines of, listen to yourself?”

“Pretty sure it was the latter,” Virgil said.

Murton tucked the paper away, then looked at his brother. “I don’t know, Virg. It’s something to think about.”

“Do that,” Virgil said. “We’d better get back upstairs. I think Nicky has his eye on Baker.”

“I noticed. It was a little hard to miss. I also noticed she didn’t seem to mind.”

“Tell you something else,” Virgil said. “Did you listen to Nicky? Not so much what he was saying, but the way he said it. When we first met him and Wu, those guys weren’t much more than kids. Hell, now they sound like full grown adults.”

Murton laughed. “Happens to us all, Jones-man. Maturity. Ain’t it a bitch?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

At the same time Virgil and Murton were standing at the bottom of the bar’s stairs, Jack Grady, the lead detective with Kentucky’s Criminal Apprehension Bureau, and his partner, Justin Cole, were sitting in Grady’s office, which was located in Frankfort, Kentucky, the state’s capitol.

Grady looked at Cole and said, “Now that it’s light out and we can see what we’re doing, take a run back out to the Said estate and see if there’s anything to see on the opposite side of the lake, will you? I’m thinking they came in that way, via the service road at the top of the hill.”

Cole nodded and said he would. “You’re sure that is the only other access point?”

“I am,” Grady said. “The estate itself is gated, and the exterior security footage from last night didn’t show that it was breached. But they gained entry somehow and I’m thinking that’s about the only other way to get on the property.”

Cole, who had been listening carefully, said, “That’s twice in a row you used the word ‘they.’”

“That’s because no other scenario fits,” Grady said. “Think about it. The county did a sweep of the entire perimeter and didn’t find an abandoned vehicle. That means our dead guy either hiked in from God only knows how far, or he had someone with him who took off once everything went to shit on their end.”

“Any chance the caretaker was in on it somehow?” Cole asked.

Grady shook his head. “I’d say the possibility of that is extremely slim. He’s a good guy. I know we looked at him before when he rigged that shotgun inside his safe, but we also cleared him. He’s not a part of it.” Then: “Although it wouldn’t hurt to have another conversation with the man if he’s out there. Something could turn up because he might not know what he doesn’t know.”

“You know what I can’t figure out?” Cole said.

“What’s that?”

“Look, I’m aware of the fact that things were pretty chaotic last night, but Getz told me that the rowboat tied to the dock belonged to the estate. If the shooter came from the other side of the lake, how’d he get over to the main house? He either swam—not an easy thing to do while holding a shotgun, plus it’d be an awfully long swim—or walked through extremely dense forest all the way around to the other side, or they—whoever they are—had access to the estate prior to last night and pre-positioned the boat for their own use.”

“He didn’t swim,” Grady said. “His clothes were dry.”

“Okay, so he either hiked through the woods at night, or took the boat at an earlier time.”

“I think you’re right,” Grady said. “Get with Getz and go back through his security footage. If someone took that boat a few days beforehand, or a week…whatever, figure it out.”

Cole said he would, and left the office. Grady picked up the phone to call Virgil.

Virgil’s phone buzzed at him just as he and Murton stepped back into the office over the bar. He checked the screen, saw who was calling, then brought the phone up to his ear and said, “Hey, Jack. What have you got?”

“Nothing substantive. Although we do have a working theory on how the shooter gained access to the estate down here. Cole’s looking into it now. I should have more by the end of the day.”

“Anything on prints from your crime scene people?”

“Not yet,” Grady said. “Again…might have it by the end of the day.”

“Good enough. Keep me up to date with anything you find. Anything at all. I’ll do the same.”

“I will,” Grady said. He paused for a moment, and Virgil caught it.

“Is there something else?”

“Maybe. It’s a little sensitive.”

“We’re all on the same page, here, Jack. Let’s hear it.” Virgil put the phone on speaker so everyone else could hear the conversation.

“When I say we have a working theory on how the shooter gained access to the property, there aren’t too many possibilities. Hiking in from the back service road is one.”

“That’d be a hell of a hike,” Virgil said.

“I agree. You’ve seen the woods that surround that lake. It’s about as dense as they come. Tell you something else: Our shooter’s boots were pretty clean. I looked at them myself last night. I am one hundred percent sure he didn’t hike through the woods. I don’t think it went down that way.”

“You check the external security footage?”

“Yes. The shooter didn’t come in from the front. They’ve got cameras that cover every single angle. So if he didn’t come in that way, we’re left with only one other option…unless he dropped in on a parachute.”

“This isn’t the movies, Jack. You’re saying he came in from the service road at the back and crossed the lake.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. But there’s a little problem with that scenario as well. The boat tied to the dock belonged to the estate.”

Virgil finally caught on. “Jack, Roger Getz didn’t have anything to do with this. He’s about as good as they come. He’s been with the estate for years. That’s a dead end.”

“I’m not exactly disagreeing with you, Jonesy. But Cole is going to have a conversation with him…not so much as a suspect, but simply to see if we’re missing something.”

“Waste of time, you ask me,” Virgil said.

“With respect, I’m not asking,” Grady said. Then he quickly added, “But you’re probably right. I’ll tell Justin to go easy on him. That work?”

Virgil tried to keep his voice friendly but he wasn’t sure if he pulled it off or not. “Yeah, do that. Talk to you.” Then he killed the call.

Murton looked at his brother and said, “Gotta keep it loose, Jones-man.”

Virgil sat down. “Yeah, I know, but sometimes the way that guy works sort of gets under my skin. Rick Said only hired and worked with people he trusted, and that includes Roger Getz.”

“I don’t think anyone is disagreeing with you,” Murton said. “Jack just works differently than we do.”

“That may be, but I’m telling you, Getz didn’t have anything more to do with what happened down in Kentucky than Ross did when Holly Novak was killed out on that very same lake. Everyone in this room knows that, but Grady focused in on one of our own people with a myopic view that was so short-sighted I’m surprised Ross isn’t doing time in a federal penitentiary.”

“You gotta admit, the evidence was pretty convincing,” Ross said. “And I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I don’t hold a grudge against Grady.”

“Ah, I don’t either,” Virgil said. “But it’s been my experience that sometimes the obvious choice isn’t the correct answer.”

Murton tucked his chin and said, “Sometimes?”

Virgil let the whole thing go, mainly because he knew he was getting himself wound up over nothing. If Getz didn’t have anything to do with it, then he doesn’t have anything to worry about. “All right, we’ll let Jack be Jack.” He turned and looked at Nicky and Wu. “Okay, let’s do what Rosie said. Start pulling all the MCU case files where the state, the company, and the MCU overlap each other.”

“Wu have already started. Fortunately Becky has excellent backups in cloud.”

“He’s right,” Nicky said. “I’m looking at the various databases right now. It will take some time to pull everything together, then cross-reference the data points from the individual case files.”

“How much time?” Virgil said.

“That depends on how many files we need to pull the data from,” Nicky said. “If it’s only two or three, then it won’t take more than a day. But if you’re talking about twenty, or something like that, it’s going to be a bit longer. And, uh, listen, I don’t want to speak out of turn, but…”

“But, what?” Virgil said.

“It’d go a little faster if we didn’t have quite so many distractions.”

“He’s telling us to get out,” Ross said.

“Well, I wouldn’t have said it exactly like that,” Nicky said. “It is your bar, after all. But yes. Maybe you guys could push some tables together and work downstairs.”

“Maybe we could leave the tables where they are and start drinking,” Rosencrantz said.

“Nicky is right,” Virgil said. “Let’s get out of their hair.” Then to Nicky and Wu: “We’ll all be leaving shortly as it is. If you guys need to go anywhere, lock the joint up, will you? There’s an extra set of keys in the top desk drawer.”

“Wu already find.”

“Okay, well, let me know what else you find as soon as possible,” Virgil said. Then they all went downstairs and left Nicky and Wu alone to do their work.

Virgil started handing out assignments. “Ross, Rosie? I want the two of you to go back to the hospital, get with the chief security guy, uh—” Virgil had already forgotten his name. He looked at Murton with a help-me expression on his face.

“Hole,” Murton said. “Jake Hole.”

Virgil nodded and said, “Yup. That’s it. Get with this Hole guy, and go over the raw footage with him. We have some of it, but not all. I want you to start from the moment I was outside Ortiz’s room and work your way both forward and backward. The woman who was posing as a nurse got in and out of that place without anyone noticing. She also likely killed two other nurses in the process, or had an accomplice who did. Check both the interior and exterior cameras. Find out how she got in, how she got out, who killed the nurses, coordinate with Marion County crime scene and see if you can figure out where she went and if she had anyone helping her. If we can get a glimpse of a vehicle, either dropping her off or picking her up, we’ll be able to work it from there. Any questions?”

“What about Chip?” Ross said.

“What about him?”

Rosencrantz cleared his throat and said, “I think my partner is asking if we should check in with him. He might want to help out.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “If he’s up to it, use him. If he isn’t, leave him be.”

Ross and Rosencrantz said they’d handle it, then turned to leave. They were almost to the front door when Virgil said, “Hey, guys?”

They both kept walking, but Ross gave Virgil a wave over his shoulder, and without turning around, said, “Yeah, yeah. We’ll stay together.” Then they disappeared through the front entryway.

Virgil sort of flapped his arms and started after them.

Murton grabbed his brother to stop him, and said, “What were you going to tell them?”

“Well, it could have been anything.”

“That’s not exactly a very specific answer.”

“I was going to tell them to stick together.”

“You’re sort of an open book, Jonesy,” Mayo said. “That’s why we love you. What about me and Baker?”

Virgil sort of mentally face-palmed himself and said, “Hang tight. I gotta call Becky.”

Murton looked at his brother, and said, rather dryly, “Tell her I said hello.”

Virgil ignored Murton’s tone and called Becky. “Time to get to work, Becks.”

“I am working,” Becky said. “I’ve just finished what could arguably be the best breakfast I’ve had in quite some time, and once Lucy and I finish our mimosas, we’re going shopping with Sandy and Nichole.”

“That doesn’t sound like work,” Virgil said.

“It feels like it though.”

Virgil stuck to his guns. “But it isn’t.”

“Maybe it’s the jet lag.”

“There is exactly zero time difference between Indianapolis and Jamaica.”

“Well, it was a late flight,” Becky said.

“On one of the nicest private jets ever made. C’mon, Becks. We need your help. It’ll probably take you about ten minutes.”

“Can you hang on for a second?” Then, without waiting for an answer, Virgil heard Becky say, “Yes, one more for me, please. Lucy…what about you? Oh, what’s the harm? Live a little. Really? Great. Make it two, then, please.”

“Becky?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I had to order refills. The orange juice down here is fantastic.”

“I know,” Virgil said. “I’ve had it before. Listen, you’ve got access to the Popes’ system, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not exactly sitting at one of their terminals right now. In fact, I’m out on the veranda enjoying a spectacular view.”

“I gathered as much. Are we done playing now?”

“I’m not, but go ahead. What do you need? I’ll see if I can pencil you in.”

“Download all the security footage you’ve got stored in the cloud from both the interior and exterior of the MCU facility. You don’t have to go through it, because I know your plate is full⁠—”

“Actually it’s empty,” Becky said. “Whoops, sorry to interrupt. I don’t have to go through it…why?”

“I’m trying to make this easy for you, and you’re getting in your own way. Send the footage to Mayo and Baker. They’ll give it a look.”

Becky got serious. “I can do that, Jonesy, but it’s going to be a lot of video. How far back do you want me to go?”

Virgil didn’t have an answer, and said as much. “I’m not sure. How much have you got?”

“Six month’s worth.”

“Jeez, that seems excessive,” Virgil said.

“It’s cloud storage, Jonesy. It’s dirt cheap, it’s in the budget, always has been, and probably always will be.”

“Okay, whatever. Send it all.”

“Can’t send it to their phones. The file is too big. Are Nicky and Wu working?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got them on something else and they’ve already kicked us out of the office.”

Becky laughed. “See? And you thought it was just me.”

“So, what do we do?” Virgil said.

“Go back upstairs, apologize for the interruption, then grab the black laptop from the bottom left desk drawer. I’ll send the whole package straight to that machine.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll do that right now,” Virgil said. “Murton says hi, by the way. He didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. It’s a sad day for us all.”

“Let me speak to him,” Becky said.

Virgil handed his phone to Murton. “Your lovely wife would like to speak with you. I think she’s been drinking. Little early in the day, you ask me, but I’m not passing judgment.”

Murton took the phone from Virgil. “Says the guy who got pinched by the Jamaican fuzz for drinking and scootering. By the way, did you happen to learn the true meaning of why they call it the pokey when you were locked up? I heard your shorts were absolutely in tatters.” Then, without waiting for a response, Murton put the phone to his ear and said, “Hello, my dear. Having a good time, I take it?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Virgil shook his head and walked upstairs.

Baker looked at Mayo and said, “Man, I think I’m really going to like it here.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Justin Cole found Roger Getz on the back deck of the Said estate. There were large sheets of plywood leaning against the outer wall of the house, along with a number of different saws and other assorted tools.

“Mr. Getz? It’s Detective Cole…from last night.”

Getz set his tape measure down, limped over, then made a quick note on the side of one of the plywood sheets with a carpenter’s pencil. “Sure. How ya doin,’ Detective?”

“I’m well. To be honest, I’m a little surprised to see you out here this morning.”

“Why’s that?” Getz asked.

“Because you got hit in the ankle.”

Getz smiled. “Ah, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. It was just a ricochet, and it turns out I’m a bit of a bleeder. My family doctor has me on blood thinners because of my ticker, and if I even cut myself shaving, my bathroom ends up looking like a crime scene. Anyway, my injury last night stung like mad, took a few stitches to sew it up, and here I am.”

Cole grinned and said, “Well, glad you’re okay. Took some guts to make your stand the way you did.”

“Wasn’t all me, as you know. I tried to save everybody, but Miss Sandy did the heavy lifting. That woman knows how to shoot. I’m sort of embarrassed by the whole thing, if I’m being honest. ”

“No reason to be,” Cole said, his smile slowly fading away. “I’ve seen other men turn and run at the sound of gunfire. You didn’t do that.”

“You talking about before I was shot, or after?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“Didn’t have a choice in the matter, Detective. If I’d have stepped into that room, I could have been killed. And once we were on the back deck here, I got hit, went down, and got dragged off by the same woman who saved everyone else.”

“Yet here you stand, back at work the very next morning.”

“What would you have me do?” Getz said. “Leave the entire place open for the raccoons and tree rats to take over? You’re driving at something, ain’t you? I’m not sure what it is, but I’m guessing this whole conversation might go a little quicker if you just came out with it.”

“I will,” Cole said. “But let me ask you a question first. Are you armed, sir?”

“Matter of fact, I am.”

“For my safety and your own, would you please slowly remove your weapon and place it over on that table next to the railing?”

Getz didn’t like it, but he did as he was asked. “That do?”

Cole didn’t answer right away. He stepped over to the table, picked up the gun, ejected the clip and cleared the chamber, then set everything back down. “I think that does it,” Cole said. “I’d like to get your opinion on something, Mr. Getz. A few things, actually.”

“Can’t say that I’m surprised. What do you want to know?”

Cole took out a notebook and pen, flipped to a blank page and said, “Just for the record, have you ever seen the man who attacked everyone last night?”

Getz nodded. “Yeah, I have.”

That wasn’t the answer Cole was expecting. He moved over closer to the table to position himself between Getz and the gun, his face a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You don’t have any other weapons on your person, do you?”

“You can relax, Detective. I’m a caretaker of an estate, not a gunslinger.”

“A simple yes or no will do, sir.”

“No, I do not have any other weapons on me or within reach as we stand here.”

Cole relaxed a fraction. “Okay, let me start over. For the record, you’re saying that you’ve seen the man who attacked you and your group.”

“That’s right,” Getz said.

“What’s his name?”

“Hell if I know.”

“But you’ve seen him?”

“I’ve answered that question twice already. It’s been my experience that asking somebody the same thing more than once is a polite way of calling them a liar.”

“You did lie to us once before, sir.”

“Felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter…the way your partner was pressuring me, and all. Don’t know what this has to do with that, but I guess it’s your parade. What else do you want to know?”

“When did you see this man?”

“Last night,” Getz said.

Cole closed his notebook in frustration and gave Getz a look. “I meant, when did you see him before?”

“I never have seen him before last night.”

“You just told me you did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Getz said. “You’re not asking specific questions. Here, let me help you: I’ve seen the man who attacked everyone exactly once in my life. It was last night when he was shootin’ at us.”

Cole took a step closer to Getz and said, “You do not get to play games with me during a murder investigation. Are we clear on that?”

“Crystal,” Getz said, a half smile on his face. “How’s it feel to have someone jerk you around for no good reason at all?”

On some level, Cole knew Getz had reason to be upset, and he also knew why. He took a half step back to get out of Getz’s personal space, then stuck out his hand to shake. “How about we start over…again?”

Getz, who really was a good guy, knew that he’d made his point. He shook hands with Cole and said, “Works for me. Never seen that fella in my whole entire life before last night. Don’t know how he got here, who he was, or why he wanted to kill anyone. And before you ask…and to save myself another insult, yes, I’m sure.”

Cole actually laughed. “No more insults, sir. I promise. Let me ask you this: The boat tied to the dock down below belongs to the estate, correct?”

“Yes, it does. Your partner asked me that last night.”

“I’m aware. I just want to get my facts straight.” Cole turned and looked at the woods that surrounded the house and the lake. “You ever tried making your way through those trees?”

Getz laughed. “Nope. Too old and too fat, and the fat part really don’t matter because it’d be damned near impossible even for someone as skinny as you. That’s old-growth genuine Kentucky eastern white pine woodland. Your shooter didn’t come through there. If he had, his hands and face would have looked like he tried to attack a tiger…and lost.”

“So if he didn’t come through the front, and he didn’t come through the woods, the only way he could have gained access to the house is by using the service road and crossing the lake. Would you agree with that statement?”

“I would.”

“And his clothes were dry, so he didn’t swim across the lake.”

“That seems logical,” Getz said.

Cole closed his notebook again and put it back in his pocket. “So how did the boat get over there to begin with?”

“That’s a good question. Someone must have taken it over there beforehand.”

“Is that the kind of thing you’d notice…one of the boats missing?” Cole said.

“Depends. If it was the middle of summer, I definitely would. We’ve got guests who rotate in and out of here all season long. But this time of year…late fall? I’m not out here very often except to take care of the leaves and such...or if someone is going to be staying over.”

“When was the last time you were on the other side of the lake?”

“On the service road?”

“Yeah.”

Getz scratched the side of his face. “To tell you the truth, I can’t recall that I’ve been back out that way since Miss Novak was killed. I had to repair the fence.”

“Want to take a ride with me?” Cole said.

“As long as I don’t have to sit in the backseat.”

Cole let out a little laugh and said, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Then let’s go look. Mind if I have my gun back now?”

“I’d rather you locked it up here.”

Getz knew that cops were a different breed, so he didn’t push the issue. “Okay, give me two minutes. With your permission, I’ll step over and collect my firearm.”

“Sure. Just leave the clip out if you would. May I see that rag in your pocket, please?”

Getz pulled a shop towel from the front of his bibs and handed it over. “What do you want that for?”

Cole picked up the single shell he’d ejected from Getz’s gun and wiped it down with the cloth, then, while it was still wrapped up, he handed it all back. “This is in no way a reflection on you, but I don’t like leaving my fingerprints on other people’s ammunition. C’mon, let’s go see what we can see.”

Virgil got the laptop from Becky’s office, apologized to Nicky and Wu for the interruption, then gave the computer to Mayo. “Murt and I are going to run over to the MCU and take a look at the carnage. I want you and Baker to run through that footage and try to figure out how someone got a bomb inside our facility. That is your singular assignment. Don’t quit until you’ve got it figured out.”

“We’ll handle it, Jonesy,” Baker said.

As Virgil and Murton were walking out to the Range Rover, Murton looked at his brother and said, “Do you really have one of those black AmEx cards?”

“Yeah. How do you know that?”

“Because Small told Becky that they were going to take the island shops by storm. She also showed her the card.”

They climbed into the Rover, and Virgil got them headed toward the MCU. “They aren’t easy to get. You actually need an invitation from American Express to get one.”

“And you got invited?” Murton said, a look of dismay on his face.

“Hardly.”

“Then how’d you pull it off?”

Virgil laughed through his nose. “I didn’t…not really. Rick set it up for us after the sonic drilling contract was inked. Tell you something else: That card has an annual fee of five grand, if you can believe that.”

“You’re telling me that you pay five thousand dollars a year just to have the card?”

Virgil shook his head. “Nope. I don’t pay a dime. Said, Inc. pays the fee. They always have. It was part of the deal. We have to pay for our own expenses, of course, but they handle the fees.”

“Speaking of fees, you still owe me twelve bucks.”

“Don’t worry,” Virgil said. “I’m good for it. But I’m also a little short on cash right now. Besides, it’s only money. Who cares?”

“I do.” Murton glanced over and looked at the Rover’s fuel gauge. It showed a little more than a quarter tank. “You put my twelve dollars in the tank, didn’t you?”

“Well, I did have twelve dollars—I think the jury is still out on who it actually belonged to—and I needed gas, so…”

Like that…all the way over to the MCU.

Cole and Getz drove all the way around to the far side of the estate. Once they arrived at the right spot, both men climbed out of the squad car, and it took Getz about two seconds to find the hole in the fence. He shook his head in frustration, pointed at the section that had been cut away, then said, “Right there. Christ almighty…that hole is bigger than the last one.” He started to limp over that way, but Cole stopped him.

“Hang on a second, Mr. Getz.”

“Look, how about you call me Roger?”

“I can do that,” Cole said. “But don’t go any closer to that fence.”

“Why not?”

“Because if what we’re seeing is how they got in and out, then this area will have to be cleared by our crime scene people. We don’t want to destroy any evidence that may have been left behind.”

“Suits me,” Getz said. “My ankle is howling like mad as it is. Would it be okay if I took a few pictures with my phone? I’m gonna need them for the insurance people.”

“That’s fine. Just stay on the road.”

While Getz was getting his photos, Cole got on the phone and called Grady. “Haven’t looked at the footage yet, but it looks like the theory is going to hold up. Got a hole in the fence. Better send a couple people out to work the area.”

“I’ll get them headed that way right now,” Grady said.

“You want me to wait out here until they arrive?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure they know where it’s at. Not anyone’s first time out at that place. See what you can see, then head back.”

Cole said he would, then ended the call. He walked back over to where Getz stood and said, “Get your pictures?”

“Yup.” Getz spat in the dirt, then said, “Tell you what I’m thinking of doing.”

“What’s that? And please don’t spit in the road.”

“Why the hell not?” Getz asked. Then he realized his mistake and answered his own question. “Crime scene contamination.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. Sorry. Anyways, as I was saying, I’m thinking of putting in an electric fence. Next time someone tries to cut through back here they might think twice…unless they want their eyeballs to light up like a Halloween decoration.”

Cole looked out across the lake and the surrounding woods. “That’d be a lot of fence. Take a lot of juice to run it too.”

“You talking about money?”

“I am,” Cole said.

Getz chuckled and said, “The people I work for? They got more money than they know what to do with.”

“I guess so. Let me ask you something: Why is this one section back here so sparse? I wondered about that the last time I was here, but never did ask.”

Getz nodded like he’d heard it all before…mainly because he had. “The second year I started working here…this was back when Mr. Said was still alive, maybe twelve or fourteen years ago now⁠—”

Cole snapped his fingers and smiled. “If we’re thinking of the same year, you’re talking about the floods, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” Getz half-turned and pointed over his shoulder. “That hill behind us let go, and when it did, this whole section got washed straight down into the lake. Made a hell of a mess, too. Took damned near the entire summer to get it all cleaned up. They had to use bulldozers to clear the roadway, and once that was done they brought in cranes to pull the trees out of the lake. We replanted, of course, but it’ll take decades before it fills in like the rest of the woods. I’ll be long dead by the time that happens.”

“Well, let’s hope not,” Cole said. He was getting ready to turn back to his squad car when something caught his eye. He put his hand on Getz’s shoulder, then leaned in close and pointed at one of the trees. “Is that what I think it is?”

Getz looked that way, then dropped his chin to his chest. “I’ll tell you something, Detective⁠—”

“Call me Justin.”

“Fair enough. I’ll tell you something, Justin. You’re still young, so you might as well go on and enjoy it while it lasts. Half the time I feel like I can’t remember what day of the week it is anymore. That’s my way of saying gettin’ old ain’t for sissies.”

“You weren’t too old last night, based on what I saw.”

“Yeah, and I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for what Miss Sandy did. Anyway, what you’re looking at is a Browning Spec Ops Elite HP5 Trail Camera. We had an entire array installed out here after what happened to Miss Novak.”

“What’s that got to do with your age, Roger?”

“Other than the fact I forgot we have them to begin with? Not a goddamned thing. They’re tied right into the main security system.”

Cole gave Getz a pat on the back. “Don’t sweat it. Let’s go back and see what we caught.”

Eddie Holt used to be very good at exactly three things: He’d been an excellent sniper, a gunsmith who knew how to make hand-tooled suppressors that were extremely quiet, and he’d been an excellent marksman with a handgun. But ever since the cop had shot him, it felt like his skills were drying up. A long-range shot with only one arm was nearly impossible, so that was out. And though he’d always practiced at the range with both hands while shooting handguns, his left-side shooting was still not quite as good as his right had been. And the suppressors? Same story as working a long gun. You needed both hands to run the tooling, and Holt only had one functioning arm. His hand was fine, but it was mostly useless…hanging out of a sling and attached to a shriveled arm. Sometimes Holt thought he should just go ahead and put a gun to his head and end it all. What was the point?

Except Holt wasn’t a quitter, and he wanted the money his partners had promised him. Once he had that, it’d be off to an island in the Caribbean where he could live in luxury.

He parked his car on the back side of the hangar, grabbed his bag, then walked inside to take care of business. He hadn’t known the pilot very long, so he didn’t feel bad about what he was going to do, but even if he had known the guy for years, he’d still have to go through with it. They don’t call them loose ends for nothing, after all. Time to tighten things up.

“Got your cash,” Holt said.

The pilot turned around at the sound of Holt’s voice. “Good, I’m going to need it. That fuckin’ cop put two rounds through the sheet metal.”

“I heard. You shouldn’t have lit him up like you did.”

“Had to. I couldn’t tell if he was one of yours or not. I didn’t want to leave anyone behind. Tell you what, though. That cop? He can shoot. The guy was rolling and firing at the same time at a moving target in the dark. If he’d have hit something critical, I’d be dead meat right now.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him shoot. He is good.”

The pilot spread his arms slightly and turned his palms up. “So, the money?”

Holt tossed the bag over and it slid to a stop close to the pilot’s feet. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give it a quick count. I don’t want anyone coming back saying I tried to rip them off. Mind if I use the can?”

“Help yourself,” the pilot said as he began counting the stacks of cash. “You know where it is.”

Holt walked past the pilot, and when he was just a few feet behind him, he reached under his jacket, pulled out his gun with the suppressor already attached, then shot the pilot twice in the back of his head. The suppressor was so good that the cycling action was louder than the shots themselves. He picked up his brass, grabbed the bag of money, then walked out to his car and drove away.

No one ever saw him. One down…one to go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

When Virgil and Murton arrived at the MCU—they had to walk the last block—both men were having a little trouble digesting what they saw. While Wendell’s description of the building’s condition was accurate enough, it didn’t really do justice to the amount of damage that had been done.

The structure was in complete ruins. What had just yesterday been a living, breathing, modern law enforcement center was now nothing more than a shadow of itself…a skeleton whose bones had been reduced to mere shards and spall. The streets had been blocked off, and demolition crews had already erected safety fencing around what was left of the building.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Murton said.

When Virgil answered his brother, his voice was flat and distant. “Rolling in through Baghdad?”

“Yes. That’s exactly it. I’m surprised the walls held.”

“Lot of memories in that place.”

“It’s just a building, Virgil. We’ll get it figured out.”

“Ah, I know, but inside that pile of rubble are a few things I’d like to get back.”

“Like what?”

“Ed’s badge, for starters.”

“What else?” Murton said, even though he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

Virgil had his fingers curled around the chainlink fencing like a kid outside a ballpark who couldn’t get in to watch the game. “I know it sounds silly, but⁠—”

“I don’t think there’s anything silly about it, Virgil. I know the note was something that you cherished, and I also know why.”

“Do you? Because in its own way, it was the last thing Rick ever said to me. Now it’s gone.”

“Maybe they’ll find it,” Murton said.

Virgil yanked on the fence…hard. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Baker and Mayo were sitting at a table in the bar, the laptop open in front of them. Baker checked the screen, then let out a breath. “Still downloading. It says we’ve got another twenty-five minutes. Seems like it’d be quicker than that.”

Mayo gave her a lazy shrug. “It’s a big file. We just have to wait it out.”

“Ask you something?” Baker said.

“Sure.”

“You miss being a street cop?”

“No, not really,” Mayo said. “Kicking in doors and handling domestics…it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Me and Raf did it for years, but it starts to wear on you. I’m not old, but I started with the city when I was twenty-one, and that was nearly twenty years ago, so it was time to make the move. To tell you the truth, we both got lucky when Jonesy hired us.”

“He brought you guys in during the MedCap case, right?”

“Yeah, they needed the help, we were available, and we’d sort of been ringing his bell for a while anyway, so he snatched us up. We’ve got a good unit. Happy to have you, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Baker said. She checked the screen again. “Now it says twenty-seven minutes. How is that possible?”

“It happens,” Mayo said. “That’s why it says, ‘estimated.’”

“Is this a big part of the job?”

“Sitting in a bar?”

Baker gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “No, you dope. I’m talking about looking at video.”

“Actually, yeah, it is. The cameras…they’re everywhere these days.” He pointed to a corner of the room without looking. “You and I are being recorded right now.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Baker said.

“Anyway, we’ve put a lot of bad actors out of business with video alone. It’s sort of the nature of the beast these days.”

“That’s kind of an odd way to put it.”

“Not really,” Mayo said. “You use the tools you have. Look at it this way: When you were working the protective detail, what was that like?”

Baker laughed. “It was a lot like flying, to tell you the truth. Hours and hours of pure boredom followed by a few seconds of: ‘Holy shit.’”

“That’s sort of my point. When you’re working the protective detail, you’re waiting for the action to come to you. But bored or not, you’re ready, right?”

“Yeah…you have to be.”

“There’s some of that as a detective—which you’ve already discovered—but we mainly work the clues we have after the crime has been committed. We have to work backward, piece everything together, then figure out who did what. So, yeah, video is a big part of it.” Then: “How long now?”

Baker glanced at the screen, then said, “You don’t want to know. So listen, tell me about Nicky Pope…”

When Ross and Rosencrantz got to the hospital they found Lawless working with the Marion County crime scene techs. They walked over, nodded a few hellos to the other workers, then Rosencrantz said, “What’s the latest on Mimi?”

“They’ve got her back on the table,” Lawless said. “The docs told me her pressure was inching down, and that she was stable enough to do her spine.”

“I know the whole thing is terrible,” Ross said. “But how bad is her back?”

Lawless turned his palms up. “That’s one bright spot…actually, it’s two. Her shoulder is busted, so they need to address that, but she’s got a cracked vertebra…L5. There doesn’t appear to be any nerve damage, so they’re using some sort of space-age glue or something to fix that, then they’re going to flip her over and take care of the shoulder. They sound hopeful.”

“They must,” Rosencrantz said.

“How so?”

“When we got here, we went to the surgical waiting area expecting to find you there, but one of the nurses told us you were working the scene up here.”

“Yeah, I had to get out of that room. Just sitting there and staring at the walls was driving me nuts. Figured if I could keep my mind busy it might help.”

“What have you got so far?”

“Maybe something, maybe nothing. It’s too early to tell, but there’s a chance that the woman Jonesy spoke with outside of Ortiz’s room—the one pretending to be a nurse—might have made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“We pulled two very nice prints—a thumb and index finger—off of the hospital badge she used. If they belong to her, she grabbed the badge before she put her gloves on. They didn’t match up with the nurse she took it from, and none of that was caught on camera, but if she’s in the system, we should be able to get an ID. The Marion County lab is pushing it through the system as fast as they can.”

“Good deal,” Rosencrantz said. “Why wasn’t it caught on video?”

“It either occurred in the stairwell, which is possible because there’s some gaps in the coverage, but my guess is that it happened in the bathroom. Can’t have cameras in there, so that’s more likely. We do have shots of her and the other nurse going into the bathroom and coming out, so like I said, that’s probably how she got the badge. This woman…whoever she is? She’s a flat-out lunatic. I saw the footage of her stabbing the two nurses behind their workstation. It wasn’t pretty.”

“They never are,” Ross said.

“Yeah, I guess not, but she walked up behind these two women, and I’ll tell you, she knew what she was doing. She stabbed the first one just once to take her out of play, then did the same thing with the other. As soon as they were both down, she shanked each of them three times in a row. The entire thing was over in less than ten seconds. It was like watching a bad prison movie.”

“Unfortunately, that’s part of the reason we’re here,” Rosencrantz said. “Jonesy wanted us to go through the security footage to see what we could see.”

“Don’t bother,” Lawless said. “I already got it all from Hole. You guys know Hole?”

“Haven’t met him yet,” Ross said.

“Well, the guy lives up to his name, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I’ve got a copy of the entire thing on my laptop. I cut it down to the relevant parts, and I can send it to you if you want.”

“Do that,” Rosencrantz said.

Lawless grabbed his laptop out of his bag, then sent the file to their phones. “The resolution could be better, but there are a couple of pretty good face shots. She came in through the parking garage, and left the same way.”

“Did you get a vehicle?” Ross said.

Lawless shook his head. “Nope. The cameras caught her entering and then exiting the back stairwell in the garage…the one that leads out to the street. After that, we lost her.”

“Okay, we’ll give it a look,” Rosencrantz said. “Nice work, man.”

“I hope it matters,” Lawless said. He said it with some teeth.

“She’s going to make it through all this. You gotta believe that.”

“I’m trying, but it’s not easy. The whole thing is really eating me up.” Then, a touch softer: “Did you guys know that Mimi and I are, uh…”

Ross threw his arm around Lawless’s shoulder and said, “Yeah. Everybody knows, Chip.”

Lawless and Ross had developed a personal relationship with each other over the years, and though it went against his better judgment, Lawless looked at Ross and said, “Could I have a private word with you for a few seconds?”

Rosencrantz pretended like he hadn’t heard the request and said, “I’ll be right back. I’ve got to use the bathroom.”

Once Rosencrantz was gone, Ross looked at his buddy and raised his eyebrows.

Lawless stared at the floor for a few seconds, then said, “Look, I’m going to ask you to do something, and it has to stay between you and me. When you figure out who’s behind all this, I want these people⁠—”

Ross put the flat of his hand on Lawless’s chest and said, “Stop. Do not say what you’re about to say.”

Lawless pushed Ross’s hand aside and said, “Why the hell not? Are you telling me you wouldn’t do it if Sarah was down there right now fighting for her life?”

Ross shook his head. “No, I’m not saying that at all. What I am saying is this: No one ever knows how these things play out. It might go the way you’d like it to, or it might not. But if you ask, I don’t want you to have to carry that burden around for the rest of your life if things take a certain turn. It will eat you alive. If it happens, it happens because that’s the way it goes. Are you hearing me on this?”

If Lawless heard Ross, he gave no indication. He shook his head, then turned and left the area.

Ross watched his friend walk away until he turned the corner at the end of the hall and was out of sight. When Rosencrantz came out of the bathroom, he walked over and said, “What was that all about?”

Ross looked at his long-time partner and said, “You have to ask?”

Rosencrantz looked at nothing for a few seconds and said, “No, I guess not. What’d you tell him?”

“That life’s full of mysteries and I don’t own a crystal ball. Let’s go, huh? This place depresses the shit out of me.”

“I thought we’d go downstairs and check in with Ortiz. Say hello.”

Ross gave his partner a single shoulder shrug and said, “Yeah, okay. But after that let’s get back to the bar.”

“Gonna start day-drinking?” Rosencrantz said.

“The way things are going right now? It’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

Both men walked down the stairs—the elevator had been cut off to the floor where Ortiz had been attacked—and as they were walking, Ross looked at Rosencrantz and said, “You think Mimi is going to make it?”

Ross and Rosencrantz had been partnered together long enough that they could almost finish each other’s sentences. When Rosencrantz heard the way Ross asked the question, he stopped at the next landing, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re essentially asking me the same question Chip asked you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

And Ross being Ross, said, “You’re not. And so what if I am?”

“Tell me exactly what you told Chip,” Rosencrantz said. “And I mean word for word.”

Ross repeated what he’d told Lawless, then finished with, “It seemed like good advice, although he didn’t take it very well.”

Rosencrantz bumped himself off the wall and got right in his partner’s face. “And what about you? What kind of burdens are you going to carry for the rest of your life?”

“Only the ones I choose, which, by the way, are very few. Tell me you didn’t feel the same after what happened down in Jamaica when you sought justice for Carla.”

“Didn’t bring her back,” Rosencrantz said.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it. It’s also a cop-out.” Then Ross turned and began walking down the stairs again without saying anything else.

Everyone was feeling the pressure.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Justin Cole watched Getz struggle with the estate’s surveillance system for a few minutes, then decided to tell him a story. “When I was in the military, I worked with one of the best snipers I think this country has ever produced.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. I was his spotter. As it happens, you’ve met him before. When Holly Novak was murdered, my boss thought Detective Ross was responsible for the crime. He wasn’t, of course…we figured that out—maybe not as fast as we could have—but we did get it figured out. Anyway, Ross is a hell of a shooter.”

“So I’ve heard,” Getz said. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

“Just this: I wasn’t good enough in that regard, so I ended up being his spotter. Don’t get me wrong…I can shoot, but nowhere close to what Ross can do. Anyway, it didn’t bother me a bit, because everyone is good at something, right? As it happens, I turned out to be a great spotter. It takes a special sort of skill. Lots of math and other variables to consider.” Then with absolutely no segue: “When I first arrived and saw you getting ready to board up the window, I took one look at your tools and knew you must be a pretty good carpenter.”

“I know my way around a hammer and a table saw, if you take my meaning,” Getz said.

“As it happens, I’m pretty good with computers, if you take mine.”

Getz stopped fiddling with the keyboard, spun around in his chair and said, “If you’re trying to save my feelings, it really isn’t necessary. How about I go back to work outside and you figure out what the cameras caught.”

“I meant no offense.”

Getz chuckled. “None taken. But it’s like I said out by the back road. My age is flying right by me so fast I can’t keep up with a lot of things these days. Technology might be at the top of that list. The world, and computers in particular, belong to the younger generation now, don’t they?”

Cole smiled and said, “Yeah, I guess they do.” Then, simply trying to lighten the conversation, Cole said, “Well, at least you’re not still paying for AOL.”

Getz gave him a funny look, and when Cole caught the expression on his face, he knew he’d just put his foot in it. “Uh, what I meant to say was it’s probably a little cheaper than it used to be. There’s a lot of competition out there these days.”

“Uh-huh.” Getz stood from the chair. “Have at it. I’ll be out back.”

It took Cole no more than twenty minutes to find what he was looking for. When he checked the time stamp on the file he discovered that it all happened two nights ago. But there was a problem: The cameras weren’t positioned well enough to capture either a view of the vehicle or its license plates. All Cole could see were the headlights of a car pulling up, and then a flare of brake lights as it stopped briefly before driving away after the passenger got out.

As the car made its way out of the frame, a man hopped the front fence of the Said estate, then there were a few other short clips of the same man taking the boat from the boathouse just minutes later, before he began to row across the lake. The intruder was dressed all in black and wore gloves, along with a ski mask that completely covered his face. And while Cole now had a timeline to work with, what he didn’t have was a clear picture of what the man looked like. And because the images had been captured at night, it was almost impossible to tell if the man who’d taken the boat and pre-positioned it on the other side of the lake was the same person who’d done the shooting.

He found the files for the cameras in the woods, matched the timeline to the other images, then brought up video of the back service road. Getz might not have actually installed the cameras, but Cole was willing to bet that he’d been present when they went in because nearly every angle of the woods was covered…from the road all the way down to the lake. But just like the cameras at the front of the estate, the ones that looked out toward the fence from within the woods were all perpendicular to the road itself.

Cole watched as a car pulled up and parked next to the back fence before extinguishing its lights. Whoever was driving remained in the vehicle for a few minutes, then another one of the trail cams caught the first man as he pulled the boat out of the water and began climbing the hill. The resolution of the cameras was impressive, and better yet, the man who’d taken the boat had removed his ski mask, and that confirmed he was the same person who’d done the shooting. It wasn’t much to work with, but it was something.

And then, as the driver of the vehicle got out of his car and handed a pair of wire cutters to the shooter, Cole had a sense that he’d seen the man before, though it was hard to tell because he wore a ball cap and was only in view for a few seconds. He couldn’t put a name to the image…it was more of a gut feeling than anything else.

It was something to think about, and Cole hoped if they could get an ID on the shooter, it might lead them to the driver. He copied all the relevant footage to his phone—including the next night when the boat went back into the water—then walked back outside and found Getz hard at work boarding up the window. He pulled out his phone and showed Getz the photos of the man he thought he recognized. “Ever see this guy before?”

Getz studied the image for a few seconds, then said, “Nope. Don’t think I have. Sort of hard to tell by that picture alone, though. Looks like he’s got a busted arm or something.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Cole said.

Getz caught the tone of Cole’s voice as he handed him the phone back. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen this guy before somewhere, but I can’t figure it out.”

“You know what works when that sort of thing happens to me?”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, well first, it don’t work all the time. Guess I shouldn’t have said it that way. But what I do is this: I try to forget all about it. I let my brain work on it in the background while I’m doing something else...like fixing this window. Hand me that hammer, will you?”

Cole retrieved the hammer, gave it to Getz, then said, “I’ve copied all the files from your system that I need, but I’d appreciate it if you left the originals on the computer in case we need them.”

Getz pulled a nail from the corner of his mouth, got it started with a few taps from the hammer, then said, “Here, hold this corner up for me.”

Cole did as he was asked, and after Getz hammered the nail home, he said, “There. That ought to hold it for now until the glass people can get out here. Thanks for your help. I won’t mess with the computer until you say otherwise. Hell, even then I probably won’t touch the damned thing.”

“Appreciate it, Roger. I’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

Getz told him that was fine. Right before Cole disappeared around the corner of the back deck, Getz stopped him with a question. “Hey, Justin?”

Cole stopped, looked back and said, “Yeah?”

“You’re an alright kind of fella. But let me ask you this: You’re saying I can get AOL for free?”

On their way back to the bar, Murton made an observation, one that didn’t seem overly relevant, but it was one that would ultimately help get them started down the right path. “I’ve been thinking about what Dad said to you.”

Virgil, who was still upset after seeing the condition of the MCU facility, said, “What about it?”

“You okay, Virg?”

“Not really. But I will be.”

“Is there a timeline for when that might happen?” Murton said.

Virgil chose to ignore that particular question, and to his surprise, Murton let him. “Sorry. You were speaking of Dad.”

“More of the conversation, to be specific, but yeah. He said something to the effect of, ‘With all the clues that have been dumped in your lap, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it all out yet.’”

The car in front of them stopped short on a yellow, and Virgil leaned on the horn in frustration. “People need to learn how to drive.” He pointed out the front windshield of the Rover with his entire hand. “Did you see what that guy was doing? He was texting. I saw his head come up at the last second.”

“Let it go, Virg. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Oh, look at that,” Virgil said. “Now he’s giving us the finger.”

“Us?”

“Wait here.” Virgil started to unbuckle his seatbelt, but Murton stopped him.

“Jonesy, if you get out of this car, I’m going to switch seats and drive away.”

“No, you are not,” Virgil said. “We’re supposed to stay together. It doesn’t matter anyway. Take a look. I think the guy wants to have a conversation.”

Murton looked out the front window and saw the man as he climbed from his vehicle. “Here we go.”

Virgil lowered his window, leaned out and said, “Get back in your car.”

“Not gonna happen,” the man said. “How about you come out here and we’ll work it out right now? No? What’s the matter? Is that horn the only weapon you’ve got?”

Virgil shook his head. “That’s it.”

Murton looked at his brother. “Virgil, no. Stay put. I will handle it. Do not move from this vehicle.” Murton got out, pulled his badge from beneath his shirt and made sure it was in plain sight.

The light had turned green and the other cars behind them were starting to honk their horns. Virgil reached down and turned on his police flashers, and after that the honking stopped.

Murton walked over to the man and said, “I am a detective with the Indiana State Police. Specifically, the Major Crimes Unit. Let me see your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because you are about two inches away from being arrested for reckless driving and threatening a police officer. Now give me your phone or I’ll take it from you.”

“It’s in the car. Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. How about if I apologize to your buddy?”

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea right now. Were you texting while driving? That’s illegal, by the way.”

The man rubbed his face with both hands, but didn’t say anything.

“Answer the question, please,” Murton said.

“No, I wasn’t texting. I was looking at the map function on my phone. I’m a little lost. You said you’re with the Major Crimes Unit?”

“Yeah, I did. What of it?”

“Mind if I show you my ID?”

Murton put his hand on his weapon and held it there. “I insist. But no sudden movements.”

When Murton saw the man’s identification, he tipped his head to the side. “Maybe we should be apologizing to you.”

“Or we can chalk it up to nobody’s perfect.”

Since no one was moving, traffic was getting out of hand, so Murton pointed over the man’s shoulder and said, “See that office supply store across the street?”

The man turned, looked briefly, then said, “Yeah.”

“Pull in over there. I need to get something from that place anyway. I’ll also introduce you to my partner, who happens to be my brother, so go easy on him, huh? It’s been one of those days.”

The man laughed. “You talking about this little incident, or the bigger picture of things?”

“Probably both…but mostly the latter,” Murton said. “He’s got a short fuse of late.”

“Nice one. But I’ve heard them all before.”

Once Murton was back in the Rover, he looked at Virgil and said, “You know what I’m always saying about coincidences?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Turns out I’m right. Follow that guy. He’s going to pull in to the office supply lot.”

“Why are we going there?” Virgil said.

“Because you’re going to want to meet this guy, and I need to buy something anyway.”

Virgil still hadn’t moved, but the vehicle in front had already pulled away. He reached down, killed the emergency flashers, then dropped the Rover in gear. Just as he did the light went from yellow to red, so Virgil stopped.

The car behind them leaned on the horn, and when Virgil looked in the rearview mirror, the driver threw both his hands in the air in a ‘what-gives’ gesture.

Murton laughed. “Lighten up, Jones-man. It happens to the best of us.”

Once they were all together in the office supply store’s parking lot, Murton looked at his brother and said, “Detective Virgil Jones, meet Agent Rob Parks with the ATF.”

Virgil dropped his head, then lifted it back up and stuck out his hand to shake. “Uh…sorry about all that. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

Parks turned out to be a good guy, accepted an unfair amount of intersectional blame to take the edge off, then looked at Murton and said, “And for the record, it’s actually ATFE now.”

Murton nodded rapidly. “I know, I know, except I used to say that alcohol, tobacco, and firearms were three of my favorite things. But ever since you guys added explosives to the mix it doesn’t really work.” Then to Virgil: “Agent Parks is going to handle oversight on the demolition of the MCU facility.”

Virgil didn’t get it, and said so. “Why?”

“I’m sort of an odd duck within the agency. Myself—and a few others—work out of the Chicago field office. I have a structural engineering degree, so whenever there’s a place that’s been bombed, and that same place has, or is thought to have weapons or ammunition of any kind, it’s my job to ensure they remain in a controlled environment. The demolition people are regular citizens, and we can’t have them handling the weapons. I assume you had them at your facility.”

“Did we ever,” Virgil said.

“Would it be possible to get an inventory list of some kind? It’d make my job a lot easier.”

Virgil looked at Murton, who simply shrugged. “Sarah probably has one.”

“Yeah, I’ll give her a call,” Virgil said. He looked at Parks. “You might be in town for a while. I don’t even know who’s going to handle the demo.”

Parks waved it off. “Doesn’t bother me at all. Anything to get away from my boss. Besides, I’m single, this is a nice city—I was here a couple of years ago on personal business—and the United States taxpayers are footing the bill. Anyway, I was hoping to go out to the site today and have a look at what I’ll be dealing with.”

“It’s not far from here,” Virgil said. “You could follow us back. You were going in the wrong direction, by the way.”

Parks laughed. “Yeah, I figured out that much. Anyway, I appreciate your help, and I’m ready when you are.”

“Give me five minutes,” Murton said. “I need to run inside the office supply store and grab something.”

“What do you need?” Virgil said.

“A whiteboard. I’ve got an idea. Be right back.”

As Murton walked away, Parks looked at Virgil’s Range Rover and said, “Nice ride for a state cop. You must be on the take, huh?”

Virgil chuckled and said, “No, but if I was I’d probably lie about it anyway. It’s a long story, but I fell into a pile of money a few years back.”

“Must have been a pretty big pile,” Parks said. “Why’d you climb out?”

Virgil shrugged then leaned against the fender of his vehicle and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ah, you know…it’s something to do. We work primarily for the governor, so it’s a pretty interesting job…you know, until bombs start going off.”

“Any idea who blew you up?”

“Not yet, but we’ll get there.”

“Speaking of there,” Parks said, “where are you operating out of in the interim?”

Virgil uncrossed his arms, scratched the back of his neck and said, “Well, we own a bar, so…”

Parks gave Virgil a wicked smile. “Yeah…you’re definitely on the take, all right. Probably have a few high-end escorts hanging around…maybe running a little blow out the back door.”

“That obvious, huh?”

Parks made a tsk, tsk, tsk, noise and said, “Yep. It’s sort of a shame, really. I’ve still got a few buddies with the DEA. Not as many as I’d like, but there are some good ones left. Might have to turn you in.”

“Wouldn’t work,” Virgil said. “In fact, we busted a crooked DEA agent out of Chicago not too long ago. Guy by the name of Blackwell.”

“I heard about that. Didn’t realize it was your unit, though.”

“Yeah, the guy was a real nut job,” Virgil said.

They shoveled a little more cop manure around the parking lot for a few minutes, then Virgil said, “Ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Earlier you mentioned that you were down here on personal business a while back, then you just said something about not having as many friends with the DEA as you used to.”

“That’s right,” Parks replied.

“Was one of those friends a former agent by the name of Carla Martin, by chance?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly who I was referring to. How’d you know that?”

“Sometimes I’m actually a pretty good listener. Would you mind if I gave you proper directions to the MCU instead of leading you over there? I need to take care of something.”

“Sure. I’ll take your contact information as well. Might need to speak with you again at some point.”

Murton came out of the office supply store with a giant whiteboard that would barely fit into the back of the Rover. “Where’s Parks? I thought we were going to drive him over to the MCU.”

“I told him how to get there.”

“Good enough,” Murton said. “Pop the rear hatch, will you?”

Virgil did that, helped get the board in the back of the Rover, and once they were on their way, he looked at Murton and said, “I’m starting to learn my lesson.”

“You mean the one where you are the instigator of vehicular violence?”

“Honking your horn at someone is hardly indicative of inciting road rage. And to answer your question, no, that’s not it.”

“Then which lesson are we talking about?”

“The one I’ve been hearing over and over for years. Everything is connected, Murt. Didn’t you mention that you’ve been thinking about what Dad said?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Mayo and Baker had been going through the MCU security footage, and they weren’t having much luck. They started at the obvious point—the exact second the bomb went off—and then began to work their way backward. It was a little difficult to watch the video in reverse, but it was better than the alternative, which was to jump back a day or two, then run it forward and keep repeating that process until they saw something. So far they’d run the footage back almost a full month, and they still hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary.

Baker finally hit the Pause button and said, “Let me ask you something: Ortiz was hit nearly twenty-fours hours ago, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And at almost exactly the same time, three other things were happening: Ross, Sarah, Huma, and the girls got ambushed, the MCU was bombed, and everyone down in Kentucky was under attack.”

“That about sums it up,” Mayo said. “It’s also not exactly what anyone would call new information.”

Baker gave him a frown. “I get to things in my own way.”

“How about we skip the scenic route? I would think as a former fighter pilot you’d know that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.”

Baker shook her head. “Not true. Not always, that is. If you fly far enough, the shortest distance from point A to point B is to follow the curvature of the earth. It’s called orthodromic navigation, and it looks weird on a map, but it’s true. You navigate using spherical trigonometry, which is a version of the inverse geodetic problem.”

Mayo dropped his chin to his chest, put a child-like whine in his voice and said, “Are we almost there, Mom?”

“Very funny,” Baker said. “If you’d just let me ask my question…”

“I thought you already did.”

“That was what’s called a lead-in. My point is this: Everything was happening at once, so somebody must have planned it that way, right?”

“I guess so,” Mayo said.

“Take the guesswork out of it. It’s too coincidental for it to be anything else. If that’s the case, logic dictates that whoever planted the bomb at the MCU must have done it fairly recently. I think we need to start over and only look at the last couple of days. Three at the most.”

“Why?”

“Because whoever planted that bomb wouldn’t want the damn thing just sitting around. There are too many variables to consider. What if someone found it, or it went off by accident, or…whatever. Bombs are dangerous and unpredictable devices. That thing hadn’t been in the building more than a day or two. Guarantee you.”

Mayo ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m not necessarily disagreeing with you, but we already looked at that section of footage and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

Baker didn’t want to let it go. “Then we missed something.”

“So what you’re really saying is that we’ve wasted almost the entire afternoon.”

“No, I’m saying that by using knowledge and applying logic into the equation, we’ve learned something. If we keep doing what we’re doing, we won’t simply have wasted the afternoon, we’ll be wasting the evening as well. We need to start over.”

Virgil and Murton had just walked in through the bar’s kitchen, both men carrying the huge whiteboard. Virgil caught the tag end of what Baker had just said. “Start over on what?”

“The security footage from the MCU,” Mayo said. “Baker thinks we missed something.”

Virgil and Murton leaned the whiteboard against the wall, then Virgil looked at Baker and said, “Em?”

Baker explained her theory to Virgil, and finished with, “So we can keep going, but it seems like a waste of time, you ask me.”

“How far back are you right now?” Murton said.

Baker checked the screen. “About a month.”

“And you haven’t learned anything?” Virgil said.

Mayo rubbed his face and said, “Well, I’ve learned everything I ever wanted to know about geometric calculus, or whatever it’s called.”

Baker looked at Virgil and Murton and said, “We were talking about spherical trigonometry as it relates to the inverse geodetic problem.”

Murton turned the corners of his mouth down and bobbed his head. “Ah…great circle navigation, huh?” When he saw the look on Virgil’s face, he said, “What? I know things.”

Virgil thought back to last evening when Baker had been sitting in his office. He knew she was smart, so he decided to follow her lead. He looked at Mayo and said, “I think Baker is right. Go back three days or so, and—” Virgil stopped talking like someone had just turned off his brain.

“You okay there, Skipper?” Mayo said.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about something. And quit calling me Skipper, will you? We’ve talked about that before.” Then to the entire group: “Hold on a second, I’ve got to call someone.” Virgil pulled out his phone and got Russ Wendell on the line.

“Remember how you told me that you took Sniffer over to the MCU to check for secondary devices?”

“Of course. What of it?”

“I don’t recall exactly how you said it, but you mentioned that the garage level collapsed first, and everything came down on top of it.”

“Yeah, close enough,” Wendell said.

“So it’s safe to assume that the device was in the garage?”

“You don’t have to assume, Jonesy. I’m sure it was. The garage door itself was blown off the rails and turned into a giant bowl.”

“Okay, thanks. Talk to you.” Virgil killed the connection, then made another call. “Any news?”

“I just spoke with one of the surgical nurses,” Lawless said. “They’re done with the spine. They told me it went well, and they’re getting her turned over right now to work on her shoulder. That’s about all I know.”

“Okay, listen, I need to ask you a question, and I want you to think carefully before you answer.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“When was the very last time either you or Mimi put the crime scene van in the garage at the MCU?”

“Three days ago,” Lawless said without hesitation.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yeah, I am. After we wrapped up the Biggatto case, I ran it over to the motor pool because it was time for an oil change. After that, we restocked the back of the van and it hasn’t been moved since.”

“Okay, thanks, Chip. Talk to you. Keep us up on Mimi.”

Lawless said he would, then ended the call.

Virgil looked at Mayo and said, “Pretty sure Baker is right. Wendell says the bomb was definitely in the garage. We don’t know if it was on a timer, or if it was hooked into the opener—and I’m not sure it matters at this point—but I’m putting my money on the probability that it was hooked up to a timer.”

“Why?” Baker said.

“Because I couldn’t understand why Ortiz was attacked, and the two nurses were killed at the same time. This whole thing is coming from somewhere, and I think the attempt on Ortiz’s life was simply a distraction.”

“How do you make that jump?” Mayo said.

“Think about where everyone was yesterday,” Virgil said. “During the day, we were all at the MCU taking care of paperwork on Biggatto and getting all that wrapped up. Every single member of the Major Crimes Unit was in the building. If they wanted to take us all out, why not put the bomb on a timer—or even set it up to be detonated remotely—when they knew either all of us or most of us would be there? But that didn’t happen.”

“What didn’t happen?” Rosencrantz said. He and Ross had just returned from the hospital.

Virgil gave them a quick recap, then said, “Near the end of the day, I spoke with Baker in my office, then Murton, and after that we all left. But nothing actually started happening until everyone was out of the building. Murton and Becky were here…at the bar. I went to the hospital to say hello to Ortiz, Ross and Sarah were ambushed, and we all know what went down in Kentucky.”

“Still don’t see how almost killing Ortiz is a distraction,” Mayo said. “The woman who did it also killed two nurses.”

“That’s my point,” Virgil said. “She did it to get to Ortiz, who was the distraction for everything else. She had to kill the nurses, otherwise she might not have been able to get to him. And as horrific as those killings were, if Ortiz hadn’t been attacked, who do you think would have shown up at the hospital?”

“Metro Homicide,” Rosencrantz said. “Along with about a billion city and county cops.”

Virgil tipped his finger at him. “Exactly. We might have eventually gotten involved, but a straight-up double murder on a Friday evening doesn’t generally cross the desk of the governor…the woman we all work for. Whoever is behind all this wanted the MCU involved. They wanted us running in all sorts of different directions at the same time.”

“Well, it seems to have worked,” Ross said. “But you have to ask yourself this: Why would someone want us involved? Because based on our track record, it’s been my experience that they should have wanted the opposite.”

Virgil nodded, and conceded the point. “You’re right, young man. I misspoke. I don’t think they wanted us involved, but I think they wanted us running and confused. They wanted us thinking about a bunch of different things that didn’t matter to them or to their agenda. I’m sorry to have to say it this way, but Ortiz and the nurses were a distraction. The attack on the security guards at the intersection, and on Ross and Sarah…distractions. They were going to blow up our homes…that was a distraction. The bombing of the MCU? A distraction. The shooting down in Kentucky? Another distraction. All of it…somehow designed to keep us off balance and looking at all the individual assaults instead of something else. Something bigger.”

“It feels like it’s working,” Murton said. “We can’t see the forest for the trees.”

Nicky and Wu came downstairs carrying two banker’s boxes full of paper. Wu had heard the comment Murton just made and said, “We are speaking in proverbs now?”

Then, before anyone could answer, Nicky said, “Here are printouts of every single case where the state, the MCU, Said’s company, and our Jamaican crew overlap each other. We have a sequence running right now that will pull out the particular data sets that I spoke of earlier. That process will run overnight and should be ready to look at tomorrow. What else can we do to help?”

Virgil gave Nicky a wait-a-minute finger, then looked at Baker and Mayo. “Keep looking at that video. Distraction or not, I want to know how someone got a bomb inside our building. Go back three days and start from there. You’ll see Chip take the van out, then bring it back from the motor pool a little later on. That is your starting point.”

Baker said they’d handle it, then she and Mayo went back to work. Virgil turned to Ross and Rosencrantz. “What’d you get from the hospital?”

“Depressed,” Ross said.

Virgil gave him the brow. “I was speaking more in terms of things that could be considered evidentiary.”

“Chip is working while Mimi is in surgery. He got the video from Hole. We’ve looked at it, and other than what we already know, there isn’t anything on the video that moves the needle.”

Virgil didn’t want to hear that. “I’ll tell you what we need: We need some IDs on all the dead shooters. It’d give us a place to work from.”

“Metro has the prints from the nurse impersonator,” Rosencrantz said. “Chip says they’re pushing it, but you know how that goes. It takes forever.”

“Why does it take so long?” Nicky said.

“Because the system backlog is absolutely atrocious,” Murton said. “Maybe we should just run them through the state’s database while we’re waiting.”

“Good idea,” Virgil said.

“Want me to call Jack and have him do the same through CAB’s system?”

“Do not bother. Wu will handle.”

Virgil looked at Wu and said, “You know Jack?”

“Wu have never met the man. But Becky has access. Wu have seen.”

“That’s, uh, something we don’t like to talk about,” Virgil said.

Nicky let out a little laugh and said, “We know how to keep our mouths shut, Jonesy. It’s really all we can do right now anyway.”

“Okay, well, just be careful, huh? I don’t want to piss the guy off. We’re supposed to be running this thing together. What about Metro Homicide? Can you get that print and put it through as well? Becky usually handles this stuff for us.”

“Again, Wu can do.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. “Get started.” Then to Ross: “Maybe you could give Justin a call and see if they’ve got any leads.”

Ross said he would. Rosencrantz looked at Virgil. “What do you want me to do?”

“You could help me hang this whiteboard,” Murton said.

“Sure. Where do you want it?”

“How about on the wall opposite the bar?”

“Works for me,” Rosencrantz said.

“Should have bought an easel,” Virgil said. “I don’t want to put extra holes in the wall.”

Cole filled Ross in on everything he’d learned from speaking with Getz, then said, “I’ve got a half-ass picture of one of the guys, and I’m telling you, man, I’ve seen him before but I can’t place him. I’m going to send it up to you. See what you can see, huh?”

Ross said he would, then waited until the photo came through. “Okay, I’ve got it, and I’ll take a look. Keep pushing, will you?”

“Running out of things to push down here,” Cole said. “We’re still waiting on an ID of our shooter. Not sure what else we can do at this point.”

Ross looked over his shoulder to make sure Virgil was out of earshot. When he saw that he was, he lowered his voice and said, “What about Getz? He check out?”

“Yeah, he checked out. I pushed him a little, but he’s a good guy.”

“One hundred percent?”

“Yep,” Cole said. “I’m positive.”

“All right. Thanks, brother. I’ll be in touch.”

Ross ended the call, and when he turned around, Virgil was right there. “You asked Cole about Roger Getz, didn’t you?”

“I thought it might be wise.”

“Like you did with Carl Johnson?” Virgil said.

“Not exactly like that, but yeah.”

“So, what’d Cole say?”

“That he’s one hundred percent certain Getz is a good guy.”

Virgil shrugged. “Okay. Good work. He have anything else?”

Ross brought up the photo Cole had sent, gave it a long look and said, “Jesus. He might have.” He handed the phone to Virgil and said, “That guy ring any bells?”

Virgil looked at the image for a few seconds, then said, “He does sort of look familiar, but it’s not the best shot in the world. Who do you think it is?”

“Hang on,” Ross said. “I need another opinion. Let’s go talk to Rosie. If that’s who I think it is, he’ll know for sure.”

They walked the phone over to Rosencrantz, and without telling him where he got the photo, Ross said, “Hey partner…I’m going to show you a picture for exactly three seconds, then take it away. I want your gut opinion on who it is.”

Rosencrantz said, “Sure. Let’s see it.”

Ross held the phone up and never even made the full three seconds. “That’s Eddie Holt.”

“That’s not possible,” Virgil said. “He’s in prison.”

“If it’s not, then he’s got a twin,” Ross said. “I don’t know how he got out, but that’s Holt. I shot him when he had a gun on Rosie outside of Fat’s down in Kentucky. It also explains the arm.”

“He’s right, Jonesy,” Rosencrantz said. “It’s pretty hard to forget the face of a guy who had a gun pointed at your head.”

Virgil was still trying to formulate a response when Baker said, “Hey, guys? I think I’ve got something here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

They all put the question of Holt aside for a minute and walked over to where Baker was seated. “What have you got, Em?” Virgil said.

Baker backed the footage up to the place she wanted, then said, “I missed it the first time through because we were focusing on the entryway doors...the one in front of the building, and mainly the one in back next to the overhead.”

“Missed what?” Mayo said. “I still haven’t seen anything.”

Baker hit the Play button, then said, “Okay, this is from two nights ago. Watch closely and tell me what you see.”

Everyone crowded around the table and watched the computer screen. Baker let the video run for about thirty seconds, then said, “Did you see that?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Mayo said. He turned and looked at everyone else. “You guys?”

“I got nothing,” Murton said.

“Me either,” Virgil said.

Ross shook his head, but Rosencrantz said, “Run it again.”

“I will, but there’s more,” Baker said. “It’s about four minutes later.”

“Okay, jump ahead,” Rosencrantz said. “It’ll be the same thing, right?”

Baker nodded. “Yeah, almost exactly.”

“Maybe you could just tell us what we’re not seeing,” Virgil said.

“Hang in there with me, Jonesy,” Baker said. “The timing matters.” She jumped the video ahead to the next section she’d marked, then hit the Play button once again. They all watched the monitor, but no one was seen entering the building from either the front or the rear.

Rosencrantz let out a sad little laugh and said, “Son of a bitch. It’s right there once you know what you’re looking at.”

Virgil stood up straight, arched his back, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Rosie, no one is on the video.”

“That’s true,” Rosencrantz said. “But let me ask you this…and forget all about who it was or how they got in, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s the question,” Virgil said.

“How long would it take to hook a bomb into the overhead door opener?”

“I don’t know, but I could probably find out. Wendell would have that kind of information.”

“Let’s give him a quick call,” Rosencrantz said.

Virgil let out a sigh, called Wendell back, and said, “Russ, it’s me again.”

“Boy, you don’t talk to a guy for months on end, and now it’s like we’re going steady or something.”

Virgil ignored the jab and said, “Got another question for you.”

“Let ‘er rip.”

“We’d like to know how long it would take to hook up an explosive device to a garage door opener.”

“Depends on if you know what you’re doing, or not.”

“Assume I do,” Virgil said.

The phone was silent for a few seconds while Wendell considered the question. “Probably thirty minutes, at least. You’d have to cut the power to begin with, then climb up on a ladder to reach the thing, remove the cover to expose the motor’s circuit board, then⁠—”

Baker hated to do it, but she did so anyway. “Hey Russ?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Emily Baker. We haven’t met, and I’m sorry to have bothered you. The bomb wasn’t hooked into the motor.”

“Yeah, I know,” Wendell said. “We’re all but certain it was in the van itself.”

“You didn’t mention that before,” Virgil said.

“That’s because I don’t like to speculate, and we’re still investigating. But I’d bet you those free drinks you offered earlier that it wasn’t hooked into the opener. It just doesn’t work when you factor in the debris field.”

“Explain that,” Virgil said.

“Okay, I told you two things that matter: The garage door itself looked like a bowl, and everything above the garage collapsed in on itself.”

“How does that prove the bomb wasn’t hooked to the overhead opener?” Murton said.

“It’s really just basic physics,” Wendell said. “When a bomb detonates it creates a giant and immediate pressure wave…in all directions. The garage door itself is evident of that. The blast blew that thing right out into the lot. But the van is the key. Had the bomb been hooked into the opener—which was above the van—it would have been flattened…both from the blast and the debris pile that fell on top of it.”

“And you’re saying that’s not what happened?” Virgil asked.

“Yep. My forensic guys are looking at it right now. They’ve found parts of the van where they shouldn’t be. Big parts, too. So, like I said, we’re all but certain the device was in the van. The garage door wasn’t the only thing out in the lot. Both of the van’s front seats were blown out of the garage as well.”

“Okay, thanks, Russ,” Virgil said. “We’ll be in touch.” He ended the call, looked at Rosencrantz and said, “Waste of time. It wasn’t hooked into the opener.”

“I never said it was,” Rosencrantz said. “I just wanted to rule out the possibility. As a matter of fact, it makes the timing work even better.”

“What timing?” Mayo said.

“Baker’s four minutes,” Rosencrantz said. “Because based on what we’re seeing on the video, that’s about the exact amount of time it’d take to pick the lock, place the bomb in the van, and then get the hell out.”

“Okay, here are two things,” Virgil said. “First, there is no one on the video at either entrance, and secondly, even if someone managed to get in, the alarm would have gone off because we’ve got sensors on all the windows and both of the doors.”

Murton laughed without humor. “Everything you just said is true, but that isn’t how they got in. Watch the footage one more time.”

Baker backed the video up, hit the Play button again, then Rosencrantz said, “Watch the bushes on the side of the lot. Hell, watch the entire area. The bushes are getting whipped around, and the cameras themselves are vibrating on their mounts.”

Virgil suddenly got it. “Son of a bitch. They landed a helicopter on the roof, didn’t they?”

“It’s the only thing that fits,” Baker said.

“She’s right, Jonesy,” Murton said. “Jump out of the chopper, run across the helipad to the door, rake the lock, take the back stairwell down—it leads right to the garage—hide the bomb in the van and set a timer, then run back up, climb on board and fly away. There’s your four minutes. And the door on the roof isn’t connected to the alarm because there’s no way to get up there without a crane…or a helicopter.”

“I’ll tell you something else,” Ross said. “I’ll bet it was the same helicopter that flew out to Jonesy’s and Murt’s.”

“You’re probably right,” Virgil said. “But I’m not sure how that helps us. Murton checked with air traffic control. They didn’t have radar tracking because they stayed out of controlled airspace.”

“Easy to do when the weather is nice,” Baker said. “The night everything happened, they stayed low, and no one knows where they came from, or where they went afterwards. Want to watch the video again?”

“No need,” Virgil said. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

“Yeah, but you’re missing my point, Jonesy,” Baker said. “The bomb wasn’t planted at the MCU on the night everything went down. This video we’re looking at? It was from the night before.”

“So what?” Murton said.

Baker hit the Play button once again, then pointed at the screen. “It’s raining like crazy. Whoever flew to the MCU that night would have had to file a flight plan. The FAA will have a record of that.”

Virgil looked at Murton and with a smile, said, “Can I pick ‘em, or what?”

Murton shook his head. “Uh, for the record, Baker approached me, I said it was a good idea, and you originally said no.”

“But I ultimately decided she was a good fit for us all,” Virgil said.

“Whatever gets you to sleep at night, Virg.”

Virgil let it go, looked at Baker and Mayo and said, “Get out to the airport, get with Cool, bring him up to speed on everything, then find out who owns that helicopter and where they keep it.”

Mayo closed the laptop, then said they’d handle it.

As they were walking toward the door, Virgil said, “Hey, Em?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s some great work. You’ve got a good eye for detail. Little surprised it took Mayo so long to catch on though. Maybe you should stop and get him a new pair of reading glasses.”

“Thanks,” Baker said. “What about you?”

Virgil didn’t get it. “What about me?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly explode out of the gate yourself. Maybe I’ll grab a pair for you as well.” Then she turned and walked out the door, a smile on her face.

Murton looked at Virgil and said, “Yep, you sure can pick ‘em.” Then: “Hey, where are you going?”

“Upstairs to speak with Nicky and Wu. I want them to try to find out how Holt got out of prison, and more importantly, where he is.”

Ross and Rosencrantz had the banker’s boxes open and were stacking case files on the bar’s tables, sorted by date. As they were doing that, Murton was making notes on the whiteboard, based primarily on what Mason had told Virgil. When Virgil came back downstairs, he walked over to Murton and said, “They’re working on Holt right now. Said they should have some answers pretty quick.”

“Think we should bring Grady up to date?”

“Probably,” Virgil said. “But let’s wait a bit before we do. I don’t want to feed Jack half a sandwich.”

“Works for me,” Murton said. “Let me see that note you made of your conversation with Dad.”

“Why?”

Murton let out a breath, then said, “Have you ever noticed when someone asks you the simplest of things, your knee-jerk reaction is to ask another question right back…like why, or what for, or how come?”

“No, not really. I do like to keep myself informed, though. What’s with the board, by the way? You never did tell me.”

“Yeah, I did. I told you I had an idea.”

“Which would be a little light on the specifics, don’t you think?”

Murton looked at nothing for a few seconds, then said, “Do you realize that if you’d just given me the note as I asked, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now?”

“Well, I realize it now that you’ve mentioned it, but it didn’t occur to me in the moment. Maybe I simply enjoy our friendly little banter.”

“That makes one of us,” Murton said. “How about it on the note?”

“No problem,” Virgil said. “What do you need it for?”

Ross looked over and said, “He’s pushing your buttons, Murt. You fall for it more often than you realize.”

“First of all, I don’t have any buttons, as you say, and secondly, no I don’t.”

Rosencrantz set another stack of files on the table and said, “Yeah, you sort of do. It’s like you guys have this on-again, off-again negative intimacy thing going.”

Murton covered his face with both hands and when he spoke, it was through his palms. “Can I please just have the fuckin’ note?”

Virgil handed him the piece of paper. “Sure. Here you go. All you had to do was ask.” Then: “How’s my cop humor going these days?”

Murton shook his head and laughed. “You’re gettin’ there.”

“Seriously, what’s with the board?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask,” Murton said. “You and I are going to write down everything we can think of that might have been a clue to what’s happening…specifically the things we don’t think are actual clues.”

“Okay, but why would we specifically work on the things we don’t think are related?”

“Because you were told that they are, and apparently those very same things could lead us to where we need to be.” Murton studied the note for a minute or so, then said, “Are you sure he used the word ‘today’ right here?”

Virgil looked at the note and said, “Why do you ask?” Then very quickly: “I mean, yes. I’m sure of it. You’re thinking that gives us a starting point?”

Murton laughed through his nose. “Yeah, I am. See, wasn’t that easy?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Virgil and Murton continued working the whiteboard, writing down everything they could think of regarding the day in question, when Murton grabbed an eraser and without saying anything, began to wipe the board clean.

“What the hell are you doing?” Virgil said. “That’s all the stuff we were supposed to be keeping track of.”

“This is all wrong, Jones-man. What we’ve put on the board so far are things we already know. We need to focus on the things we don’t know.”

Virgil sort of flapped his arms. “How in the hell are we going to write down what we don’t know?”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Murton said. “I’m saying we have to account for the things we think don’t matter. C’mon, let’s try again. What was the first thing you did yesterday morning?”

Virgil let his eye rest at half-mast and said, “I woke up.”

If Virgil thought he was going to get under his brother’s skin, he was mistaken. Murton wrote it down, then said, “What time?”

“I’m not exactly sure. A little after six, I guess. Brushed my teeth, got dressed, then did six miles.”

Murton added that to the board, then said, “Did you talk to the security guys at the intersection?”

“Yeah, for about two seconds. Said hi, that sort of thing, then turned around and ran back. I showered, said hello to Huma, and had breakfast with Sandy before she left to go down to Kentucky with Mac and his group.”

“How was your state of mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know…were you feeling foggy or anything like that? Dissociated, maybe?” Murton said.

“You’re asking about my PTSD.” Virgil had, over the years, struggled with bouts of post traumatic stress. He usually managed to keep it in check, but every now and again it came back to haunt him.

“I am,” Murton said.

Virgil shook his head. “No, everything has been going well lately in that regard. Anyway, after Sandy left, I went into the shop and did the same thing everyone else was doing…I got caught up on the paperwork.”

Murton continued to write things down on the board as he interviewed Virgil. “Did you speak with anyone during the day?”

“Yeah, I spoke with everyone, but mostly just to say hello. The three most significant conversations I had were with Baker, you, and Allen.”

Murton stopped writing, turned around and said, “J. Allen Turkis, of Turkis, Turkis, & Young?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, we had a brief phone conversation.”

“About what?”

“Well, as you know, his firm handles all the legal stuff for Said, Inc., which by default makes him my lawyer too. Anyway, I guess the firm is going through a transitional period…something about restructuring, and he wanted to let me know about it. Said it was a legal requirement that all clients be informed.”

“What’s the restructuring about?”

“They’re losing Young. I think her first name is Amy. I’ve never even met the woman—not that it matters—but she’s no longer a part of the firm. Allen said it all went down last week. I guess she’s going to hang her own shingle or something.”

Murton made note of it on the board by writing TTY—his abbreviation for Turkis Turkis & Young—but even he had to admit he didn’t think it mattered. “Okay, so other than that, you spent the rest of your time doing paperwork.”

“Yep. Near the end of the day, Baker came in and we talked for a while.”

Murton went back to the board and said, “Tell me more about that.”

Virgil let out a sigh. “C’mon Murt, this is a waste of time.”

Rosencrantz walked over with a mug of Red Stripe, sat down, looked at the board, and said, “I don’t think it is.”

Virgil looked over at him. “Little early for happy hour, isn’t it? And why don’t you think it’s a waste of time?”

“It’s after five, Jonesy, and we’re working out of a bar. What did you think was going to happen?”

Virgil turned the corners of his mouth down and said, “Fair enough. Draw me one?”

“Sure. And it’s not a waste of time because it has been my experience that the devil is in the details. Look at what happened with Ortiz. He’d be dead right now if Baker hadn’t been paying attention to the little things. I say keep after it. Who knows what might turn up?” Then he went back over to the bar, filled a pitcher from the tap, and grabbed mugs for Murton, Virgil, and Ross. He set everything down on the table, then went back to work sorting through the files.

Murton looked at his brother and said, “Why was the Bible sitting on your desk?”

Virgil took a drink of his beer, then answered Murton’s question. “Baker came in and she did something that reminded me of Rick. It made me kind of sad to think about it all, but she wanted to know more of the story, so I told her about how Said died, and that exactly one year after his death Allen brought me the Bible…and the note that went with it.”

“The one from Said.”

“Yep. Then you came in, and that was that.”

“Let’s talk about what Dad said…”

They spent another hour going over everything, and Murton put it all up on the board. When they were finished, Murton took a picture of the board, then stuck his phone in his pocket so he could study the image later if need be.

“Send that to everyone, will you?” Virgil said. “Nothing is jumping out at me, but maybe it will later on.”

The answers were all right there, but no one could see them…not even Virgil, who usually didn’t miss much.

Nicky and Wu came back downstairs, and each of them grabbed a beer before joining the others. Nicky passed a few sheets of paper over and said, “These are names, pictures, and backgrounds of the men who showed up at your house. The only thing they have in common with each other is that they are all ex-convicts. None of them are married, they all had places in either southern Indiana or eastern Kentucky, and other than that, we came up empty.”

“Speaking of, what about the Kentucky shooter?” Virgil said.

“Same story,” Nicky said. “Ex-con, been out for a year or so, and had an apartment in Shelbyville.”

That information surprised Virgil, and he said so. “The Kentucky shooter was from Shelbyville?”

“Shelbyville, Kentucky,” Wu said. “Not Indiana.”

Murton added that information to the board. As he was doing that, Ross asked about Holt. “How’d he get out? He’s supposed to be in prison.”

Nicky looked through his notes and said, “A combination of three things: Prison over-crowding, good behavior, and compassionate release.”

Ross made a rude noise with his lips. “Because of his arm?”

Nicky shook his head. “No, although it might have helped his case in that regard. He’s got end-stage renal disease. It says here that he’s only got a couple of months left to live.”

Murton added Holt’s information to the board as well.

“I take it we don’t know where he is?” Virgil said. “Holt?”

“No idea,” Nicky said. “According to what we could find, he was supposed to check in with his parole officer, but never did. He dropped right off the map.”

“That’s a little odd, isn’t it?” Murton said. “I mean, if you’re going through something like Holt is, you’d want some sort of medical support. Little hard to do if you’re hiding. And why would you hide anyway if you’ve only got a few months left to live?”

“Clearly revenge is a factor,” Virgil said. “If Holt is dying, it sounds like he wants a little justice of his own before he winds up six feet under. Be nice if we could find him before that happens.”

“Not sure it would matter,” Rosencrantz said. “He isn’t going to confess to anything, and all we have on the guy is a half-ass picture of him in the woods. What are we gonna do? Bust him for trespassing?”

Virgil stood up from the table and walked over to the board. “We’re missing something. Maybe more than one thing.”

“Spell it out,” Murton said. “That’s why we’re doing all this anyway.”

Virgil looked at the whiteboard for a few minutes, and everyone let him. Finally he turned around, looked at Nicky, and asked a simple question. “How did Holt get out of prison?”

“I already told you, Jonesy.”

Virgil waved his hand in the air. “I know. Sorry, let me ask it this way. No one gets out of prison early on their own. Who was the lawyer that handled his release?”

Nicky shuffled through his notes, found the right page and said, “A guy by the name of Michael Carvetti. Why? Is that important?”

Virgil and Murton simply looked at each other without speaking.

Ross looked at them both and said, “Are you guys having a stare-off, or something?”

Virgil turned to Rosencrantz and said, “Pack it up. Get Cool on the phone and have him bring Baker and Mayo out to the house. They can leave their squad car at the airport for now. Tell Cool to wait for us once they get to the house.”

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Ross said. “Carvetti is the lawyer we busted when he was helping Poole, right?”

“The answer to both your questions is yes,” Virgil said. “But Carvetti’s involvement takes this whole thing in a new direction.”

“How?” Rosencrantz said.

“To be honest, I’m not sure yet. But please…get ahold of Cool, get out to the house, and I’ll explain everything once everybody is present.”

Ross and Rosencrantz didn’t like it, but they knew their boss and how he operated. They both grabbed their gear and headed for the door. On the way out, Rosencrantz called Cool and told him what to do.

Once they were gone, Nicky looked at Virgil and said, “If this is about what I think it is, then we probably shouldn’t discuss it here.”

“You’re right,” Virgil said. “Do you guys want to follow us, or ride together?”

“We’ll follow,” Nicky said. “And listen, this might sound paranoid, but don’t talk about it in the car either.”

“We won’t,” Murton said. “Here, help me get this board down. It’s coming with us. And bring your laptops as well. We’re probably going to need them. Jones-man?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m pulling the appropriate files right now.”

They didn’t have all the answers yet, but they had some…or so they thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Once everyone was together at Virgil’s house, they all stepped out onto the back deck, and Virgil told everybody to grab a seat. He looked at Cool and said, “What’s the story on the helicopter? Were you able to track it?”

“Yup. Piece of cake. It flew up from Frankfort, Kentucky, made a five-minute stop at the exact coordinates of the MCU, then flew back.”

“Who’s it registered to?”

Cool pulled out his notes, flipped to the correct page and said, “D & B Enterprises. I’ve never heard of them...not that it matters.”

Virgil turned to Nicky. “See what you can find?”

“I’ll get a process going,” Nicky said, then went back inside the house.

Virgil looked at Cool and said, “The helicopter is based out of Frankfort?”

Cool drew his lips into a tight line. “It’s highly likely, but not definite. Easy enough to find out though. We could just call the FBO and ask.”

“Can’t do that,” Murton said. “It’d tip our hand if someone started asking the wrong sort of questions.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly my first day on the job, Murt. I didn’t mean we should ask about the helicopter. But I do think we could call and ask to speak with the pilot.”

“You’ve got his name?” Virgil said.

“Yeah, it’s required information for the flight plan.”

“Who’s the pilot?” Murton said.

“Guy by the name of Hank Trager.”

Nicky stepped back out onto the deck and sat down. Virgil looked at him and said, “What did you get?”

“Nothing yet. I just set up an automated process. I’ll let you know the second we have something.”

“Good enough.” Then to Cool: “Rich, get on the phone and see if you can reach this Trager guy.”

“Okay, but I do have one question. What happens if I do get him on the line?”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t know…just hang up. Calls get dropped all the time.”

Cool took out his phone, found the FBO’s phone number on Google, then made the call. When it was answered on the other end, he said, “Good evening. I’m looking for a buddy of mine…Hank Trager. Is he around, by chance?”

In the background, Cool could hear other phone lines ringing, and the woman who answered seemed a little overwhelmed. “Can you hang on for a second?”

“Sure, but all I really need to know is—” And that’s as far as he got before the woman placed him on hold.

“What’s going on?” Virgil said.

“They sound busy. I’m on hold.”

Virgil nodded, and while they were waiting he spoke to the group. “I’ll walk you through part of what I think is happening. I know you guys know most of it, but Baker doesn’t, so bear with me even if you’ve heard it before.”

Cool held up his hand when the phone got picked up on the other end.

A man’s voice came on the line and said, “Who’s calling, please?”

Cool didn’t answer the question, but asked one of his own instead. “That you, Hank?”

“No, this is Detective Jack Grady with the Kentucky State Police. I’ll ask you again, sir. Who’s calling?”

Cool put the phone on the table, hit the Speaker button, then said, “Jack, it’s Cool. I’m with Virgil and the whole crew. What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Grady said. “Jonesy, why are you guys calling down here?”

Virgil didn’t have any reason to hide what they were doing so he simply told the truth. “We got a lead on how the MCU building got bombed.” He quickly told Grady the story, then finished with, “So we were going to try and find out about Trager.”

“Ah, shit. Okay, hang on. I can’t talk on this line. Let me call you from my cell.”

“What’s going on, Jack?”

“Call you right back,” Grady said, then ended the call before Virgil could say anything else. Thirty seconds later Virgil’s phone lit up. He placed it on speaker so everyone could hear and said, “What have you got?”

“A dead guy named Hank Trager. Shot twice in the back of his head. I’m standing in the hangar right now. He’s lying right next to a helicopter that has a couple of bullet holes in it. I’m guessing he’s the guy who not only made a stop at the MCU, but also flew to your house.”

“Any idea who did the shooting?”

“Well, based on what we’re both working on, it’s not too hard to venture what would probably end up being a pretty good guess.”

“Holt?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Looks like he’s trying to clean up his tracks.”

“Any evidence?” Virgil said.

“I just got here, Jonesy. All I know is that one of the linemen came over to fuel the helicopter—he says Trager put the order in yesterday—and when he opened the doors, Trager was right there in a pool of his own blood.”

“The lineman check out?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Been here forever. This was Holt. It had to be.”

Virgil didn’t really have anything to add, so he told Grady to keep them informed, then ended the call. They all talked about it for a few minutes, but quickly realized that without any hard evidence it wasn’t something they should be focusing on. “We’ll let Jack handle that part of it. Something will turn up, or it won’t, but there isn’t anything we can do about it. Okay, where was I?”

Baker cleared her throat. “You said you were going to walk us through part of what you think is happening.”

“Right, right,” Virgil said. He stared out across the pond, trying to get his thoughts in order.

Finally Murton looked at his brother and said, “You okay, Virg?”

“Yeah, but this thing has so many tentacles I’m not sure where to start. It’s one big tangled ball of yarn.” He turned and looked directly at Baker. “You’re going to hear some things tonight that very few people know of…and for good reason. It might also change your mind about working with the MCU.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Baker said. “I’ve known you guys for years. I feel like this is right where I belong.”

“That’s because you’ve never seen where I live in Jamaica,” Nicky said. Then to Virgil: “Sorry, go ahead.”

Virgil went back to Baker. “The night Sandy was shot…right down there in the backyard, you weren’t here.”

“Didn’t think it was necessary with all the cops around.”

“It wasn’t. But the woman who shot Sandy ended up brain-dead after Rosie shot her.”

“Yeah, I know all that. It’s how Sandy got her kidney transplant, right?”

“That’s correct,” Virgil said. “But our brain-dead victim was being kept alive by machines, and while that was happening, my wife was dying.” Virgil paused for a few seconds and looked at Murton.

“If you’re going to tell the story, you gotta tell it all,” Murton said.

Nicky and Wu both nodded in agreement.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Okay, so the woman was in perfect shape except for her brain. There was no way she was ever going to wake up. The problem was, she wasn’t going to die either…at least not soon enough to save Sandy. So, Murt and Becky, along with Nicky and Wu, sort of helped her meet her maker, if you understand what I’m saying.”

Baker wasn’t fazed by Virgil’s statement. “I do. I’d have done the same thing. This is Sandy we’re talking about.”

“Thank you.” Virgil said. “And I don’t doubt you. But we ran into a little problem. We later learned that the office over the bar was bugged, and there was a recording of Murton speaking with Nicky and Wu about what they were going to do to save Sandy. The guy behind the recording was looking for revenge, and he was going to use it to get everyone thrown in jail, and also get his brother elected as governor.”

“Who was the guy?” Baker said.

“James Poole,” Virgil said.

“Okay, how does he fit into everything that’s been happening?”

“I don’t think he does…not directly. I’m just using him as a starting point. Anyway, we got that mess cleaned up, and Poole went to jail. But somewhere along the way Poole managed to get himself released and placed on house arrest with an ankle monitor. The lawyer who made that happen was Michael Carvetti. He was supposed to go to prison along with Poole after we later learned that they conspired to kill both Walter Silva and Preston Elliott. You know about that part, right?”

“I do,” Baker said.

Virgil nodded and continued with, “But Carvetti managed to skate because the prosecutor had to toss the evidence we had on him.”

“On Carvetti,” Baker said.

“Yes. We had a recording of Carvetti and Poole speaking about the whole thing, but Carvetti claimed it was work product—which in its own twisted way, I guess it was—and we didn’t have a warrant for the thing anyway, so it got tossed, and Carvetti ended up a free man.”

“Doesn’t have his license to practice law anymore though,” Murton said.

Virgil nodded. “That’s true. Okay, so, I’m bouncing around here a little bit, but Ross goes down to Kentucky for a shooting competition, and while he’s there, Holt sets him up for the murder of Holly Novak, who was one of the board members of Said, Inc. Rick had died, and the board was fighting among themselves for control of the company. Anyway, Holt did the actual murder of Novak, then tried to pin it on Ross, and we eventually got that mess cleaned up as well. But now we’ve got a crooked lawyer from one case who somehow manages to get hooked up with Holt from an entirely different case. There must be a connection somewhere between those two, but I can’t see what it is.”

Rosencrantz had been sitting quietly and listening to everything Virgil was saying, but he was also listening to what wasn’t being said. “Let’s go in the house. I want to look at that board.”

Once they were all inside, Murton propped the whiteboard up on the living room davenport. “What are you looking for?” Virgil said.

“The thing you just said you can’t see. We’ve got pictures of this board, right?”

“Yeah,” Murton said. “But let me get another one. I added a few things after the first picture.”

Once Murton was finished, Rosencrantz grabbed a towel from the kitchen and went over to the board.

“What are you doing?” Virgil said.

“I’m thinking about something you didn’t say. I’m also going to erase everything that doesn’t matter.”

“What if it does matter?”

“Relax, Jonesy,” Rosencrantz said. “We’ve got pictures, and there’s nothing wrong with my memory anyway.”

“What didn’t I say?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure yet. That’s why I wanted to look at the board.” Then to Murton: “Send me that picture, will you?”

Murton said he would, and a few seconds later Rosencrantz had it. He looked at the photo of the whiteboard to make sure he could read everything, then he set his phone down and began erasing. He wiped the entire board clean, then used the image from his phone to rebuild the list of items in a more logical way. He stopped numerous times to consult the different case files, adding more and more information to the board as he went.

Rosencrantz spent an hour both making and taking notes. When he was finished he called everyone back into the room—they’d gotten bored watching him work—and once they were all together, he said, “I don’t know how Carvetti and Holt got hooked up with each other, and to be honest, I’m not sure it matters. What does matter is that Carvetti managed to get Holt out of prison, and now we have hard evidence that Holt was at Said’s estate in Kentucky when the shooting started. That’s a little odd, don’t you think?”

“Odd, how?” Virgil said.

“Holt was the one who killed Novak at the estate. That’s a known fact. But as soon as he gets released from prison, he finds a bunch of guys to start hitting us from all different directions. Jonesy, earlier you spoke of distractions. I think you were mostly right.”

“What’d I miss?” Virgil asked.

“It’s not what you missed. I think you added something that didn’t belong. You mentioned everything that happened…the attempt on Ortiz, the dead nurses, the security guards at the intersection, what happened here at your house, the MCU building, and the Kentucky shooting. You said everything was designed to keep us off balance and looking at all the individual assaults instead of something else. Something bigger. I think one of those things wasn’t a distraction at all. I think it was the real target.”

“Which one?”

“My money is on what happened in Kentucky.”

“What makes you think that?” Virgil said.

“Mainly because that’s where Holt was, it was out of state, and while everyone else was running around up here putting out fires, Mac and his people got hit.”

Virgil wasn’t quite ready to buy into Rosencrantz’s theory. “You’re saying that revenge isn’t what Holt is after?”

“Not necessarily. I think he’d take it if he could get it. But it’s secondary to what’s really going on.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

Rosencrantz shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I can tell you this: Everything on that board points to Said.”

“The man, or the company?” Murton said.

“Both. It has something to do with what the company was—or still is—involved with before Rick was killed.”

It was well past the dinner hour and Virgil was getting hungry. “Okay, let me call and have some food delivered, and we’ll use Rosie’s theory and look through the case files again. Who wants pizza?”

“Don’t you have any food in the house?” Baker asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said with a little laugh. “Why? You going to cook it?”

“Sure,” Baker said. “I’m actually a pretty good cook. Besides, all those case files you’re talking about? I don’t have the familiarity with them the way you guys do. I’d end up asking more questions than finding any answers. Or worse still, I might see a connection and not even realize it.”

Murton looked at his brother and said, “The woman makes a point, Jonesy.”

“I also make a mean dinner,” Baker said. “What do you say?”

Virgil waved toward the kitchen. “Have at it.”

Nicky stood and said, “As it happens, I know my way around a kitchen. Want some help?”

“Sure. Let’s get cooking.”

Nicky laughed, dropped a little whiskey into his voice and said, “You know, I was thinking the very same thing.”

Once they were out of earshot, Murton turned to Virgil, lowered his voice, and said, “I don’t think we need to worry about losing Baker over the story we just told her.”

Virgil knew where Murton was going. “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. We might lose her to Nicky Pope.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Nicky and Baker made dinner, then set everything up outside on the deck. Once everyone was ready, they all sat down, and Baker removed the cover from the pan with dramatic flair and said, “Ta-da.”

Virgil leaned over and looked in the pan. “What the hell is that?”

“One of my favorites,” Baker said. “The recipe is from my grandfather. It was the only thing he knew how to cook…other than steaks and burgers on the grill.”

Murton gave it a sniff and said, “At least it smells better than it looks. What do you call it?”

“Bean hash. C’mon dig in. There’s plenty for everyone.”

“I think you should rename it bean trash,” Ross said. “It looks like a bowl of dog vomit.”

“It’s better than it looks,” Nicky said. “Give it a try.”

They all took small scoops and started eating. Virgil was only one bite in when he said, “Holy cow, this is delicious. You gotta write the recipe down for Huma. I could eat this stuff every night…”

Mac and Nichole were sitting outside a cafe on the outskirts of Montego Bay, having a late dinner themselves, enjoying a view of the stars out over the ocean while speaking of their current problem. They needed to find two qualified people to replace the ones who were killed in Kentucky.

“It seems cruel,” Nichole said.

“What does?”

“To be thinking about replacement personnel when our people haven’t even been buried yet.”

“I understand how you feel, and to be honest, I feel the same way,” Mac said. “But their bodies won’t be released to the families until the investigation is complete. Based on my experience, that usually takes quite a bit of time. Often they don’t get released until after the trial.”

“I don’t understand why the coroner and the other authorities have to keep them for so long. They were shot and killed. You know it, I know it, and so does everyone else.”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart,” Mac said. “Hell, I don’t even enforce them anymore. But I do know this: They keep the bodies as evidence in case the prosecution needs them. It’s better than the alternative…which is to have them exhumed.”

“Isn’t there something Cora could do to expedite the process?”

“I doubt it. They were killed in Kentucky, not Indiana.”

“What about Jonesy?”

Mac shook his head. “Not his job. The quickest way for the families to get their loved ones home and buried is to let the MCU and CAB work the case. And in the meantime, we have to find replacements. The company doesn’t run itself, and those two were vital to the onboard EV charging program. It’s not going to be easy to get qualified individuals to just step in and pick up where they left off.”

Nichole dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Another setback, then.”

“It would seem so.”

“I take it we’re going to provide adequate compensation for the families.”

“Yes. They’ll want for nothing in that regard,” Mac said.

Nichole took a sip of water, then looked around at all the happy people nearby. Some were island natives, others were tourists, but every single one of them looked like they didn’t have a care in the world. “I’ll tell you something, Mac. They say money can’t buy happiness, but that’s utter bullshit. It can, and it does.”

“Not for the families of the people we lost, though.”

“No, of course not,” Nichole said. “I was speaking in general terms. I grew up dirt-poor, as you know, and⁠—”

Nichole was looking over Mac’s shoulder when she stopped speaking. Mac caught the look in her eye and started to turn around, but Nichole stopped him. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“Who is it?”

“I can’t be sure…not from where we’re sitting, but if it’s who I think it is, I certainly didn’t expect to see him down here.” Nichole pulled out her phone, looked at Mac and said, “Give me just a moment and we’ll find out.” Then, into the phone: “Yes, Tony, it’s me.”

Tony was head of all security for the Pope estate, and its personnel. “Yes, ma’am. How may I be of assistance?”

“How long would it take for you to get me two men over in Montego Bay? We may have a problem.”

“Two of our best are with you right now, ma’am. No threats have been reported. I assume you and the former governor are having a satisfactory time?”

“We are. And I don’t see any of our people nearby.”

“That is because we are very good at what we do.”

“So it would seem.”

Mac tried to turn around, but Nichole grabbed his arm to stop him. Then, into the phone, “Remind me to give you a raise.”

“You are one of the most generous people I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I am well-compensated, ma’am. How may I help?”

“Could you please send your men—discreetly, if possible—over to where we are seated?”

“They are already walking up to your table, ma’am.”

Mac tipped his chin over Nichole’s shoulder. “We have company.”

Nichole glanced behind her and said, “They’re with us.”

“Based on their size, I find myself rather relieved,” Mac said. The security men stood close, but seemed to pay Mac and Nichole no attention at all.

Nichole went back to Tony and said, “Who do we have watching the others?”

“Nearly everyone is already back, ma’am. The women have returned from Ocho Rios. The children are all in bed at the estate after having been thoroughly attended to by the staff…who seem quite smitten with them, if you don’t mind me saying so. Mr. Delroy and Mr. Robert have gone to Kingston, though, and plan to spend the night. Mr. Robert wanted to see his old home in Trenchtown.”

“Who is with them?”

“They insisted on being unaccompanied, ma’am; however, I took the liberty of assigning two men to follow along discreetly, as I did with you. They will not be disturbed.”

“Tony, I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Nichole said. “Mac and I will be returning shortly. I’m going to have a word with your men now.”

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t hesitate to call should you require any further assistance.”

Nichole ended the call, then turned in her chair. “Andre, without being too obvious, would it be possible for you to photograph someone for me?”

The security guards, while very good, weren’t quite as refined as Tony. “Yeah, mon. Who you want da picture of, you?”

“See that man down by the water, under the light pole? The one in the pink shirt and yellow slacks. He has salt and pepper hair and is wearing glasses.”

Andre turned away from where Nichole had said the man was, bent down to pick up absolutely nothing from the ground, and when he stood back up, he looked that way. “Yeah, mon. I see who you mean.”

“Get his picture, send it to my phone, then I want you and your partner to find out where he is staying, and if he’s with anyone else. Mac and I will be leaving now. We can make our own way back.”

Andre said he’d take care of it, then he and his partner began walking in the opposite direction of where the man was.

Mac cleared his throat and said, “Just as a casual observation, your men seem to be going in the wrong direction.”

“That’s because they’ve been trained well. Don’t worry, they’ll get the photo.”

“Are you going to tell me who it is?”

Nichole gave Mac a smile and said, “No, I’m going to let you tell me once we get the pictures back. Could you get our waiter’s attention? I’d like to pay our tab and get out of here.”

Mac signaled the waiter, then said, “That bad, huh?”

“It’s too soon to tell, but I’m guessing yes.”

Virgil and Murton, along with everyone else, spent the rest of the evening going over the various case files, trying to find a connection between Said, Inc. and Carvetti. Nicky and Wu were on their computers, and Rosencrantz kept working the whiteboard.

Rosencrantz looked at the photo on his phone, then turned to Murton and said, “What is this?” He was pointing at something Murton had written down. “This TTY…what’s that mean?”

Murton, who was neck-deep in case file paperwork, glanced over his shoulder and said, “It’s an abbreviation for Turkis, Turkis, & Young. The law firm that represents Said, Inc.”

“Why is it up there?”

This time when Murton answered he didn’t bother to turn around. “Because you put it there after you erased the board.”

“Very funny. I mean why did you put it up there to begin with?”

“Because we were looking for things that might matter, but weren’t very obvious.”

Rosencrantz stared at the board for a very long time, then took another picture for safekeeping before he started erasing everything again. Once he had a clean workspace, he asked Wu to do a little digging for him online, and Wu said he’d handle it.

“It’ll be a slice of pie.”

Rosencrantz thanked him, then walked over to where Murton was working and quietly said, “Can I have a word with you…outside?”

Murton turned and looked up at his friend and fellow detective, then nodded and followed Rosencrantz through the living room and kitchen, and out to the back deck. Once they were alone, Murton said, “What’s with the cloak and dagger?”

“Earlier I said I didn’t know how Carvetti and Holt got hooked up with each other. I also said I didn’t think it mattered.”

“I know. I heard you.”

“Now I’m thinking it does matter, and in a very big way. The problem is how I made the jump.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Murton said.

“Look, I know that Jonesy doesn’t like to talk about…uh…whatever it is that he has with Mason. That’s why I wanted to run this by you first.”

Murton tipped his head to the side slightly. “I don’t think it’s that…about Mason, I mean. Jonesy and I talk about it—quite frequently—but I think he’s sort of embarrassed by the whole thing because he doesn’t understand it. But forget all about that. He’s a big boy and he knows how to handle his own business. What have you got?”

Rosencrantz spent ten minutes laying out his theory to Murton. When he was finished, Murton said, “That’s a fairly big leap…but I can see it. C’mon, let’s go run it by everyone else.”

Murton started rearranging the chairs in the living room, and Rosencrantz brought in a few extras from the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing?” Virgil said.

“Rosie is going to make a presentation,” Murton said. “It’s worth listening to.”

Virgil put his hands on his hips, then as soon as he realized what he was doing he dropped them. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve already heard it,” Murton said. “C’mon, Virg. Pull up a chair and listen.”

Virgil looked at Rosencrantz and said, “Why didn’t you come to me first?”

Rosencrantz glanced at Murton, then turned to Virgil and said, “Because I was trying to protect your feelings.”

“That never works,” Virgil said.

“Well, actually, I was trying to protect your, uh, privacy, I guess you could say.”

Virgil looked over at his brother, who simply nodded.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Tom,” Virgil said. He grabbed a chair and sat down, then everyone else did as well. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay, but you guys gotta bear with me, because I’m connecting some pretty big dots based on a few very small things.”

“Like what?” Virgil said.

Murton elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Let the man tell the story, will you?”

Virgil held up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

Rosencrantz took a deep breath before he spoke. “Earlier I said something I now believe to be wrong, and Jonesy, you left out a minor detail when you were bringing Baker up to speed. I mentioned something to the effect of I didn’t know how Carvetti and Holt got hooked up with each other, and it probably didn’t matter. I now believe it does.”

“Why?” Virgil said.

“I’ll get to it.” Rosencrantz looked at Baker and said, “The night Sandy got shot I was the one who almost prevented it. But I was about a half-second too slow. The woman I shot was the former sheriff of Brown County. Did you know that?”

“I think I did,” Baker said. “I can’t remember her name, though.”

“That’s the part Jonesy left out of his story. Her name was Lisa Young. She was the sister of Luke and Caleb Quinn. You remember that case, right? The one that was wrapped around the forest service…”

“Yeah, I do. Cool flew Sandy down to a meeting in the southern part of the state, and I had to go with her.”

Rosencrantz nodded. “That’s the one.” He looked back at Virgil, and said, “I think that’s where this all started.” Then he turned and wrote the names of the Quinn family on the board.

“I don’t see how any of this could be coming back on us from that case, Rosie,” Virgil said. “That one was about as cut and dried as they come. The Quinn brothers and their sister are all dead.”

“That’s true, but earlier when you were speaking of the recording, Baker asked who the guy behind it was and you said it was James Poole.”

“Right…because he was,” Virgil said.

“But you added that you didn’t think he fit in directly with everything that’s been happening, except he does because that gets us to Carvetti.” Rosencrantz wrote the names Poole and Carvetti on the board. Once he’d done that, he turned back to the group. “Based on the information we have, Holt—with help from Carvetti—gets released from prison because he’s dying. End-stage renal failure. Quite a coincidence, I’d say, given everything that’s happened to us before.”

Holt’s name and his medical condition went up on the board. Then Rosencrantz looked directly at Virgil and said, “You were told a number of things by a trusted source. Six things, to be exact.” He wrote them down as he spoke. “One: Everything is connected. Two: Your subconscious has been trying to tell you something. Three: Recharge your batteries. Four: Everyone is on a different plane of existence. Five: Whittle everything away that doesn’t matter and you’ll find the answer. That’s why I’ve been erasing and rewriting this board over and over.”

Virgil was looking at the board along with almost everyone else. Rosencrantz remained quiet while they did, and as that was happening, Wu walked into the room carrying his laptop and a few sheets of paper.

Rosencrantz looked at him and said, “Was I right?”

Wu smiled and nodded. “Yes. About both things.”

Rosencrantz looked at the paperwork for a minute before turning to Murton. “It’s not such a big leap after all.” Then he wrote down one more thing: TTY.

“What’s TTY for?” Baker said.

“I guess that depends on your perspective. Murton originally put it up as an abbreviation for Turkis, Turkis, & Young.” Rosencrantz wrote that out as well, and then said, “It’s all right there if you know what you’re looking for.”

Ross looked at his partner and said, “I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but you said Jonesy was told six things, but you’ve only got five up there on the board.”

Rosencrantz gave Ross a wicked grin. “No, they’re all up there. TTY could mean two different things.”

“Like, talk to you,” Virgil said.

Rosencrantz tipped a finger at Virgil and said, “That’s right. Oh, by the way, Holt is dead. As it turns out, he really did have end-stage renal failure. He died about a month ago.”

“That’s impossible,” Virgil said. “We’ve got images of him at the Said estate from just days ago.”

“That’s true,” Rosencrantz said. “He was there. But remember the first time we tried to bust Holt?”

“Yeah,” Murton said with a chuckle. “We got the wrong Eddie Holt. It was a little embarrassing.”

“Well, here’s hoping there’s forgiveness in the afterlife, because the Eddie Holt that died of kidney failure was the guy whose door we kicked in. It’s also how Carvetti got our Holt out of prison. He used the medical records of the other Holt to do it.”

“Is true,” Wu said. “Wu find on internet.”

“It still doesn’t answer the question of how Carvetti and Holt got together in the first place,” Virgil said. “That’s what we’ve been trying to find out ever since Carvetti’s name popped up. That, and how all this hooks into Said, Inc.”

Rosencrantz picked up the towel, looked at Virgil, and said, “Well, let’s do what you were told. Let’s whittle away everything that doesn’t matter.” He wiped the board clean except for two names: Michael Carvetti, and Lisa Young.

“I’m not sure what you’re driving at, Rosie,” Virgil said. “But Lisa Young is dead.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rosencrantz said. “But there’s a little more to her backstory than any of us realized. I knew some of it, but not nearly enough. Before I finally figured out that Lisa Young was batshit crazy, she told me her husband had died. He was a cop, and was killed during a routine traffic stop. What I didn’t know—but Wu discovered for me— was that Young’s husband had a brother named Tim.”

“I’m having a hard time keeping up,” Mayo said. “What does this Tim Young guy have to do with anything?”

Rosencrantz gave him a lazy shrug, and said, “According to what Wu found, he’s a consultant for a company that is working very hard to change the hearts and minds of the powers that be at the International Seabed Authority.”

“And what the hell do they do?” Virgil said. “The seabed people?”

“They are the international ruling body tasked with regulating deep-sea mining of cobalt, among other things.”

“And that matters, why?” Ross said.

“A number of reasons. Cobalt is used in the production of batteries—specifically the type of batteries used in electrically powered vehicles.” Rosencrantz glanced at Virgil and said, “There’s your connection to Said, Inc. The ISA is headquartered in Jamaica. That’s your connection to the Pope crew. The company that owns the helicopter that landed on the MCU’s helipad and made the run at your house is one we’ve already heard of: D & B Enterprises…which, as it happens, is the same company Tim Young works for. There’s your connection to the attacks on us…and Kentucky.”

“That’s great information, Rosie, really,” Virgil said. “But it’s not the whole picture. How do you tie any of that to Holt…or Carvetti for that matter?”

“I think Holt is an opportunist…one who’s playing his own game, mostly for revenge against us because he got shot by Ross. But Carvetti is the key.”

“Doesn’t really answer my question,” Virgil said.

“Yeah, I know. But this should: Tim Young, who works for D & B Enterprises, married a woman named Amy, who is a lawyer. That’d also be the same Amy Young of Turkis, Turkis, & Young. Care to guess what her maiden name was?”

“Carvetti?” Virgil said.

“That’s the one. Michael Carvetti is Amy Young’s father.”

“Holy shit,” Mayo said.

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Murton said. “At least now we know where everyone was getting their information.”

Nicky heard his computer ding, so he went into the kitchen to check it out. Two minutes later he was back. “We need to call Mac.”

“Why?” Murton said. “It’s getting pretty late.”

“Because he needs to know this as much as we do.”

“Know what?” Virgil said.

“I know who’s behind it,” Nicky said. “All of it. Holt might have been getting his intel from Carvetti through Amy Young—and by extension, her husband—but they are definitely not at the top of the food chain. The D and B of D & B Enterprises stands for two guys who have plenty of reasons to want to hurt all of us. It’s William Duke and Alex Branch, the two board members who got bounced when we took the company private.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Virgil woke the next morning, tired and groggy from too little sleep. After they’d discovered that Duke and Branch were the driving force behind everything that was happening, Virgil had called Mac before he went to bed and brought him up to date on what they’d found. As it turned out, Mac had a little information of his own.

“I have to tell you, Jonesy, it doesn’t really surprise me, now that you’ve laid it out the way you have.” Mac paused for a moment, then said, “To be honest, I’m a little embarrassed by the whole thing.”

“Why’s that?” Virgil said.

“Because I should have known it was those two idiots all along. They were the ones who led the EV charging platform from the beginning. This was way back when Rick was still alive and running the company. The plans, not to mention the program itself, were in the very early stages of development, but Said told Duke and Branch to run with it. The entire thing was their sole focus within the company. It was their baby, right from the start.”

“And when you and the Popes took the company private you bounced them both.”

“That’s right,” Mac said. “We didn’t feel like we could trust them.”

“Well, it’s starting to look like you were right. Listen, Mac, we’ll get this all wrapped up pretty soon. It’s sort of turning into a snake hunt up here at this point, but we’ve been up most of the night, and I gotta get some sleep.”

“Just one more thing before you go, Jonesy.”

“Sure. What have you got?”

“I don’t mean to insert myself where I don’t belong, but you know me…I see a problem and tend to tackle it head-on with whatever resources I have available to me at the time.” Mac heard Virgil yawn over the phone and said, “Don’t worry, I’m getting to it. Let me ask you something: Have you brought Franklin and Parr in on any of this?”

Franklin Franklin and Greg Parr were the two top agents for the Indiana branch of the Department of Homeland Security. “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think it might behoove you to do so.”

“You’re thinking we could label the bombing of the MCU facility as a domestic terrorism case?”

“Well, that’d be one way of looking at it. But you should probably think bigger.”

“My thinking is currently sinking…along with the rest of me, straight into bed, Mac.”

“I’m not saying to bring them in and label this a case of domestic terrorism. I’m saying they need to be involved because it’s a case of international terrorism.”

“How do you make that leap?” Virgil said.

“Because while Nichole and I were having a late dinner, she saw Alex Branch. He’s here in Jamaica, Virgil…and Duke is with him. After everything you told me, I wouldn’t be too terribly surprised if Tim and Amy Young are here as well. There are millions of dollars at play on both sides of the fence. Duke and Branch need the cobalt mining down here to work if their company wants to remain viable. As you can imagine, we don’t want that to happen.”

“What do the Jamaican people want, Mac?”

“They want the mining to stop as well, and the one way to make that happen is to toss those guys in the can…along with the Youngs. My advice? Get with Franklin and Parr, come up with a plan, and with a little luck we can put this whole nightmare behind us. How’s Mimi, by the way?”

“Mac, you’re the best. Mimi is hanging on…probably by a thread. That’s really all I know at this point.”

“Well, I’m not trying to be glib, but, you know, thoughts and prayers, and all that.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Virgil said. “Listen, I’ve already spoken with Sandy, but she didn’t know anything about what you told me regarding Duke and Branch. Bring her up to speed in the morning and tell her I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, keep everyone close, and will you have the Popes’ security chief call me? Is he still up?”

Mac chuckled. “Tony? I don’t think the guy ever sleeps. I don’t know how he does it. You want to talk to him now?”

“Yeah, if you could make that happen, I’d appreciate it.”

Mac said he would, then ended the call.

Virgil had no sooner set his phone down on the nightstand when it began buzzing at him. He hit the Answer button and said, “Tony?”

“Good morning, Detective. It is a pleasure to hear your voice again.”

“Yours as well, Tony. Sorry to be calling at this ridiculous hour.”

“It is never a problem, sir, I assure you. How may I be of assistance?”

“I understand you have a few of your men keeping an eye on Duke and Branch.”

“Yes, sir. We know where they are staying. At Miss Pope’s request, we have initiated around-the-clock surveillance on everyone.”

“Who are they staying with?”

“Miss Becky has taken the liberty of looking into that for us. We should know very soon.”

“It’s probably a husband and wife team…Tim and Amy Young. If you could get us confirmation on that, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Yeah, one more thing. Could you have Nichole call me in the morning? I need a favor.”

“Certainly. May I tell her what it is in regard to?”

“I’d like her to send the jet up here. There’s a chance we may be heading down to the island.”

“If you’ll forgive me, sir, there’s no need to speak with Miss Pope. I’m authorized to dispatch the aircraft at any time. When would you like the jet to arrive?”

Virgil didn’t really have a particular time in mind, so he said, “Make it noon. The truth is, Tony, it might be a wasted trip…I just don’t know yet.”

“That is never a concern, sir. It is better to have it and not need it as opposed to the alternative. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Virgil said he did, then told Tony good night. He was asleep five minutes later.

Virgil was sitting in the kitchen having coffee, and talking with Murton about the conversations he’d had last night with both Mac and Tony.

“You think it’s a good idea?” Murton said. “To bring Franklin and Parr in? I mean, the word terrorism is bad enough. Preface it with the word international, and it takes on a whole new meaning.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But we’ve got concrete evidence that Duke and Branch are the guys behind everything that’s happened, they’re in Jamaica right now…probably with the Youngs, and who knows how long they’ll be down there? If we have to make the arrests, we’ll need Franklin and Parr with us.”

Murton narrowed his eyes. “Would we, though?”

“What are you driving at?”

“Your drinking and scootering incident.”

“Now that was funny,” Nicky said. He’d just walked into the kitchen with his laptop. He set it on the table and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“We might have to agree to disagree on that particular point,” Virgil said. He turned back to Murton. “Besides, this is the second time you’ve brought that up in as many days. I was trying to do a good thing.”

“Relax, Jones-man,” Murton said. “I only brought it up this time because, as I recall, you mentioned to me—after the fact—that Nichole was going to set up a meeting between you and the Deputy Commissioner of the Jamaica Constabulary Force.”

“Turns out it wasn’t necessary.”

“I think you’re missing my point,” Murton said. “It might not have been necessary then, but if we’re trying to avoid an international incident, I’ll bet Nichole could get you in to see the man.”

“It’s actually a woman,” Nicky said. “Her name is Angelina Makko. She’s a very nice lady. I heard you called for the jet, by the way.”

Virgil was still sort of waking up, and he was having trouble keeping track of two different conversations at once. “Uh, yeah, I did. Tony told me he had the authority to send it, so I told him to go ahead and do that. It should be here around noon or so. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” Nicky said. “Why do you want to meet with Makko?”

“I’m not sure,” Virgil said. “It’s Murt’s idea. They often don’t work out.”

Murton ignored the shot and said, “If you can get her to allow us to make the arrests down there, then we can haul everyone back up here for a proper tribunal.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Virgil said. “You think that’s better than letting Franklin and Parr do the heavy lifting?”

“I don’t know if it’s better or not, but I do know this: If we keep things in-house, so to speak, we can keep the feds off our backs and out of our business.”

“And what if this Makko woman doesn’t want anything to do with the idea?”

Nicky laughed. “Not gonna happen, Jonesy. We practically fund their entire police force. She knows how to play ball.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. “Unless something changes, we’ll leave Franklin and Parr alone for now and go with what we’ve got. There’s still plenty to do up here before we go jetting around and busting people in other countries.”

“Is there?” Murton said. “Because while nothing would bring me greater pleasure than taking out Holt and Carvetti, if Duke and Branch get wind of that, we might lose them to a country that doesn’t like to play pin the tail on the extradition donkey.”

“That’s true,” Virgil said. “But it’s also just as likely that it could happen the other way around. If we grab up the people who are really running this shit show, Holt and Carvetti could get lost in the weeds.”

They all spent the rest of the morning trying to formulate a plan going forward. Most of the pieces were in place, but until and unless they could locate Holt and Carvetti, the entire squad felt stuck. They all went over various options, tossed out different ideas, and as they were doing that, the afternoon—as it is wont to do—turned into early evening. Everyone was sitting on Virgil’s back deck, and they’d finally decided that if it came down to getting their hands on Duke, Branch, and the Youngs—who were there for the taking—that’s what they’d do.

Nicky called the pilots and told them to be ready for Virgil and Murton and the rest of the crew, who’d be at the airport as soon as Cool could get them there.

But then two disparate things happened, the jet stayed put, and the world somehow got a little smaller.

Nicky put his phone away and said, “The pilots will be ready. I’ve already sent a message to Nichole, who has informed me that customs and immigration won’t be a problem. There will be no record of your arrival or subsequent departure. Tony and his men have your subjects under surveillance, so you shouldn’t have to be on the island for more than one night. I’ll stay here with Wu, and we’ll keep trying to locate Holt and Carvetti. That work for you guys?”

Virgil told him it did, and as they were preparing to leave, Murton saw a pair of car headlights sweep across the back yard as a vehicle turned into Virgil’s driveway. “We’ve got company.”

“Must be someone we know,” Virgil said. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten past Mok’s men down at the intersection.”

“Then why are you holding your gun?”

“Because I don’t like surprises.”

“I’ll check it out,” Ross said. “It’s probably Wilson.” He walked over to the corner of the house, took a quick peek at the car, then told everyone to relax. “Everything is okay. It’s Chip.”

But it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all.

Lawless walked up onto the back deck, his steps heavy and slow, his face blank, like a department store mannequin, his eyes rimmed in red. Virgil took one look at him, then sat down on the deck without really meaning to.

Ross and Baker grabbed their friend by the shoulders, then walked him over to one of the deck chairs. When Lawless spoke, his voice sounded like his throat was filled with sand. “I didn’t know where else to go.” Then he wept.

Virgil kicked the deck railing so hard he snapped the newel post in half. After that, no one said anything for a very long time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Holt ambled along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from where Carvetti lived. It was full dark, and while most of the houses were lit up on the inside, Carvetti’s neighborhood didn’t have street lights, and the moon wasn’t yet up, so Holt felt safe enough. He walked all the way around the block, just a regular guy out for an evening stroll. As he turned the final corner that would take him back to Carvetti’s, he crossed the street, then kept his head down and his eyes up all the way into the driveway and over to the front door. His car was parked on the street behind Carvetti’s place, so once he was done, he could simply walk out the back door and be on his way.

He knocked on the door—a polite little tap, tap, tap—like he was a delivery driver for a food service, his head still down. He didn’t have to worry about anyone else in the house because he knew Carvetti lived alone, so as long as the guy didn’t have any company, Holt was good to go.

When Carvetti opened the door, Holt pushed him back and was inside with the door closed behind him before Carvetti ever realized what was actually happening, or why. Holt had the gun out and pointed directly at Carvetti’s face.

“My job is finished. It’s time to make the final payment, Mike.”

“What are you doing? Why are you pointing that gun at me?”

“Because I’m not in a position to defend myself without it.”

“Who says you have to defend yourself? We’re on the same side here, Ed.”

“Are we?” Then he started in on the lies he’d rehearsed. “Trager showed up at my door and tried to kill me. Know anything about that, Mike?”

“What? No, I⁠—”

“I don’t know what you and Duke and Branch are trying to pull, but I’m out. I did my part and I’m not going to be swept under the rug. That’s why either you, or Duke and Branch, sent Trager over to my place, isn’t it? To clean up your mess. I want my money, and I want it now.”

“What happened to Hank?”

“The same fuckin’ thing that’s going to happen to you if I don’t see a bag of cash in about ten seconds.”

“I don’t have it here,” Carvetti said.

Holt let his shoulders slump as a half-smile formed on his face. He lowered the gun like they were old pals and said, “So, we’re gonna start bullshitting each other now?”

Carvetti relaxed a little bit once the gun was no longer pointed at his head. “I’m telling you the truth, Ed. It’s not here. You think I’m going to keep half a mil just lying around?”

“I don’t know,” Holt said. “You tell me.” Then he shot Carvetti in the foot.

Carvetti fell to the floor, grabbed his foot with both hands, and tried to scream, but all he managed to do was make a hissing noise.

Holt squatted down next to him and said, “I’ve got plenty of ammunition, Mikey-boy. So here’s the deal: You’re going to limp over to your office, open the safe, give me my money, and then you can call 9-1-1, or drive yourself to the hospital, or whatever you want to do. I don’t care, because I’ll be gone. I’ll be out of the state and out of your life for good. That’s option one.” Holt pressed the gun against Carvetti’s collarbone. “Or, if you like, we can explore option two…maybe give you a taste of what it’s like to walk around with a useless arm in a sling for the rest of your life. So, you tell me. The choice is yours. And hey, I don’t want to speak out of turn here, but I’d go with option one if I was you. Oh wait, I almost forgot. There’s a third option as well.”

Carvetti had tears streaming down his cheeks. “What’s that?”

Holt pulled the gun away from Carvetti’s collarbone, then stuck it in his ear. “You can lie to me one more time, tell me you don’t have the money, and find out what the afterlife looks like. Again, it’s your choice, but as a casual observer, I’d rather be a little broke and a lot alive, instead of a little dead trying to hang on to someone else’s money. It’s not like you can take it with you.”

“You’ll kill me anyway once you have the cash,” Carvetti said. Then he realized his own error. He’d all but admitted he had the money.

Holt caught the mistake, but let it go for a moment. “Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike…nobody is going to kill you. I’m not a psychopath. Besides, I don’t need a murder rap hanging over my head for the rest of my life now that I’m a free man. But what I do need is my money. You just told me you had it. Here, let me help you up. Whoops, I guess I can’t. I’ve only got one working arm. C’mon, on your feet, big boy. It’s obvious you’re going to go with option one. That’s a wise choice for everyone, my friend.”

“Like I’ve got a say in the matter,” Carvetti said as he stood. Once he was up, he had to keep all his weight on his good foot. “I can’t walk.”

Holt kept the gun pointed at him and said, “I can see that. Well, you can either crawl or hop, whichever you prefer. Let’s go now, I’ve got places to be.”

Carvetti tried to hop, but that was too painful, so he got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl. When he got to the safe, he spun the dial a few times, then once he’d entered the proper combination, he put his hand on the lever and started to pull the door open.

“Hold on, there, Mikey.” Holt pressed the gun against the back of Carvetti’s head. “You wouldn’t try to trick me now, would you? Is there a gun in the safe?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t going to use it. We’re in this together.”

Holt laughed and said, “Gee, you almost make it sound like it’s our first date. Listen, that was a hell of a nice thing you did…getting me out of the joint. It was a miserable experience being locked up like that. Want to know who you are when you’re in prison, Mike?”

“Who?”

“You’re a nobody.”

When Carvetti heard that, he knew he was going to die, and for reasons he’d never be able to tell anyone, he decided he wasn’t going to go out a coward. He turned and said, “Get on with it then, you miserable prick.”

And that’s what Holt did. He got on with it. Once Carvetti’s body was out of the way, Holt checked the safe and discovered quite a bit more than half a mil. There were two trays of gold coins, and what looked like close to a million dollars bundled together as if it’d just been pulled out of a bank vault.

Holt ran to the bedroom, grabbed a pillowcase, then stuffed everything inside before slipping out the back door. Five minutes later he was in his car and headed south to meet up with his sister in Kentucky.

Murton went inside Virgil’s house and made a drink for Lawless. When he came back out, he handed him the glass and said, “Drink up, buddy. It won’t fix anything, but it’ll help calm your nerves.”

Lawless took a sip, then looked at everyone and said, “I’m sorry for showing up here like this. I was going to call and let you guys know what happened, but every time I took out my phone I just couldn’t do it.”

Virgil patted him on the back and said, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Chip. Can you talk about it? Can you tell us what happened?”

Lawless wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Look, I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but could you guys all back up a little bit? I need some air.”

Everyone stepped back, then they all grabbed chairs and pulled them into a little half-circle around Lawless, leaving him enough room to breathe.

“Thanks.” He looked at Virgil and said, “We went down to Brown County last weekend and I got some terrific shots of Mimi. They’re all gone now…just like she is. We were going to wait to tell everyone, but now it’s never going to happen.”

“Tell us what, Chip?” Ross said.

“That we were in love. We were also going to move in together at my place.”

Murton reached out and touched him on the knee. “We all knew about the love, man. It was written all over your face. Mimi’s, too. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. How sorry we all are.”

Grief makes for a strange traveling companion, and when Lawless spoke next, he did it with a smile in his eyes. “Mimi was…man, I don’t even have the words. She was the light of my life. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“Right now you don’t have to do anything, Chip,” Baker said. “You’re with friends. You’re with family. We are all here for you. What did the doctors say? Do you want to talk about that?”

“To be honest, I really don’t remember much of what anyone said. Something about her pressure spiking. The only bright spot is that after that bomb went off she never woke up. I don’t know if you can feel pain when you’re unconscious, but I sure as hell hope not. The last thing we ever said to each other was ‘I love you.’ We both said it. I think I’ll remember that moment for the rest of my life.”

When Lawless spoke, Murton glanced over at Rosencrantz and saw a single tear sneak out of the corner of his eye. Then Rosencrantz stood and walked inside the house. Murton excused himself for a moment and followed him in.

Once they were alone, Rosencrantz said, “Does it ever end?”

“You want the truth?” Murton asked.

“Of course I do. You were with me that day, man. You had to take my gun.”

Murton shook his head. “No, I didn’t. You gave it to me. It was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

“I love Lucy with my whole heart, Murt.”

“I know that. What you had with Carla doesn’t need to have anything to do with how you feel about Lucy. You don’t have to make comparisons.”

“Maybe she doesn’t deserve me.”

“We’ve known each other for a long time, Tom. You want my opinion? Lucy is the luckiest woman alive.”

When they went back out onto the deck, Murton looked at Nicky and said, “Your laptop is trying to get your attention.”

“Thanks, Murt. I’ll go check it out.” Nicky went into the kitchen and read the report that had come through while they’d been talking with Lawless. When he went back outside, he said, “Has anyone ever heard of a woman by the name of Christine Brewer?”

Murton laughed without humor. “Yeah, she was the wife of Darrell Brewer, a crooked cop that we took out. She’s also Holt’s sister. What about her?”

“We got the prints back from the hospital security badge. She’s the one who killed the nurses at the hospital and tried to take out Ortiz.”

Virgil looked at Lawless and said, “Chip, I’m sorry, but we gotta go, man. Stay here with Nicky and Wu until we get back.”

Lawless said he would, then Virgil turned to the group. “Everybody get your tactical gear. We’re about to get some answers.” Then to Cool: “Light it up, Rich.”

“Where are we going?”

“To a bar in Kentucky. It’s called Fat’s.”

Murton looked at Virgil and said, “I need a word with you…alone.”

Everyone was in the house getting their gear together, and Virgil said, “Give me two seconds. I gotta call Jack and tell him we’re coming.” Once he’d done that, Virgil followed Murton outside and said, “What is it?”

“I’m wondering if a slower approach might work to our advantage.”

“Explain that.”

“You’ve seen that place before, and so have I. If we go running inside that roadhouse and neither Brewer nor Holt are there, they’ll know about it inside of two minutes, guaranteed. If that happens, we’ll probably never get them.”

“What are you thinking?” Virgil said.

Murton squinted an eye at his brother. “Holt is getting his intel from somewhere. It might be Carvetti, or it might be Amy Young. But it is coming from someone. It’s the only way the coordinated attack theory works.”

“It feels like you have a larger point to make.”

“I do,” Murton said. “Good intel is just that. We have to assume that Holt and Brewer know every member of the MCU…except the one person who just got hired.”

“Murt…”

“I know, I know, but if we could get Baker inside Fat’s, she’ll be able to give us what we need. If Holt and Brewer aren’t there, then we can walk away and try again the next night. But what we can’t do is go inside that place like it’s a raid and ever expect to see those two again. Baker can handle herself, and we’ll be right outside. I say we let her go in, order a beer, and see what she can see.”

“That’s a tough first assignment,” Virgil said. “I won’t order her to do it.”

“Jonesy, you’ve seen that woman in action. You’ve trusted her with Small’s life on multiple occasions. And I don’t think the assignment is as tough as you’re making it out to be. All she has to do is walk in, take a seat, have a drink, and get the lay of the land. As for ordering her to do it, that’s not going to be a problem. The real problem would be talking her out of it.”

Cool had the helicopter fired up, and everyone was walking out the back door to get on board. When Baker walked by, Virgil gently grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Got something we need you to do, Em. It’s a request, though, and it’s totally up to you.”

“Sure,” Baker said. “What do you need?”

Virgil quickly laid it out for her, and finished with, “So, what do you think?”

Baker looked at Virgil and Murton and said, “Fuck, yeah. If the helicopter ride doesn’t kill us, I’m in.”

They all climbed on board the helicopter, and Ross was the last one in. Just before he got on, he turned back and looked at Lawless, who was staring at him from the back deck. They locked eyes for a moment, then Lawless gave his friend a nod before he turned and went inside the house.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Grady and Cole were waiting for them when they landed at the Frankfort, Kentucky airport. “We didn’t bring anyone else with us,” Grady said. “We figured it’d be overkill.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Virgil said. He turned to Cool for a moment. “Rich, you’re welcome to come along, but I’d rather have you hang back just in case we need a quick run to the hospital.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Cool said. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Virgil turned back to Grady and Cole. “We’ve come up with a very loose plan, but to be honest, it’s not much different from the last time we were down here.”

“What’s the main difference?” Cole asked.

“Murton won’t be going inside the bar this time. Neither will you guys. Baker’s going to handle it for us.”

Grady looked at Baker and said, “You up for that?”

“I’m standing here, aren’t I?” Baker said. “From what I’ve heard, Brewer or Holt would recognize everyone else except me.”

Virgil nodded in agreement. “She’s right, Jack. Christine Brewer knows all of our faces.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Grady said. “Let me ask you something though: If she’s the one who tried to take out Ortiz at the hospital…and did in fact kill those two nurses⁠—”

“You can take the word if out of your sentence, Jack,” Rosencrantz said. “We’ve got all the security footage….not to mention the fingerprints.”

“Okay, fair enough. But what I was getting at is this: Jonesy, you were there at the hospital. You interacted with the woman. And I assume you’ve all reviewed the video. So I have to ask, why didn’t anyone recognize her?”

“We talked about that on the way down here,” Murton said. “She’s dropped some weight, her hair color is different, and she doesn’t wear glasses anymore. In fact, her eye color isn’t the same either, so she must be using colored contact lenses. It’s her if you know what you’re looking for—and as disguises go, it wasn’t much—but it’s her, Jack. We’re sure of it.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Grady said.

Virgil pulled out his phone and brought up Brewer’s picture. Grady studied the photo a little longer than necessary, and finally, Virgil said, “Would you like to double-check the Ancestry.com website?”

Grady gave Virgil a look and said, “No, but if you don’t have any objections, I’d like to pull up her latest driver’s license info and photo.”

Virgil knew that wouldn’t take long, so he said, “Sure. It’s early enough. But make it quick, huh? I don’t want to go into Fat’s like we did last time.”

“Why not?” Cole said.

“Because there were too many people, and it was way too loud,” Murton said. “We thought if we got there a little earlier, things might go more smoothly.”

“Fair enough,” Grady said. “Let me pull her information from the computer in my squad car. I’ll be right back.”

While Grady was pulling up the information on Christine Brewer, Virgil pulled Murton aside. “I want to talk to you about our conversation earlier regarding Franklin and Parr.”

“You’ve had a change of heart?”

“I have,” Virgil said. “If they’ll go along with it, I think they should be the ones to make the arrests of Duke, Branch, and the Youngs down in Jamaica.”

“What changed your mind?”

“In a word? Mimi. We just lost one of our own, and I don’t want to do anything—not one single thing—that could somehow let those idiots off the hook. Would I like to lead the team that slaps the cuffs on them? Absolutely. But my ego isn’t so big that I can’t let another agency—one which is authorized to deal with and arrest American citizens on foreign soil—make the play for us. I say we do what we do best, and leave the international terrorism issues to the DHS.”

“Think they’ll bite? Franklin and Parr?”

“I’m sure of it,” Virgil said.

Murton checked the time. “Then make the call. We can grab Brewer and Holt down here, and they can handle the other end of it.”

Grady walked over, looked at Virgil, and said, “Here’s something I never like to admit.”

“What’s that?” Virgil said.

“You were right. I don’t think I would have recognized her either, but it’s Christine Brewer for sure. There’s no doubt. You guys ready to do this?”

“Not yet,” Murton said. “We’ve got a few things to take care of before we go.”

Grady shook his head. “What is it with you guys? First it’s hurry up, we don’t have all night, then it’s slow down, we’ve got other stuff to do.”

Murton gave Grady one of his big toothy smiles. “Well, you know what they say about plans, Jack.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Grady said. “Unless it’s something like they can and often do change.”

Virgil told Grady about Jamaica, then asked his opinion on the matter.

“I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole,” Grady said. “Let the feds do what they do best…and that would certainly involve bringing your other suspects back. Besides, you know what lawyers are like. If you guys wrap yourselves up in the actual arrests on foreign soil, it could jeopardize the entire thing…even what we’re doing tonight. You want me to tell everyone to relax for a few minutes?”

“Yeah, do that,” Virgil said.

Grady walked over to the others, then Murton turned to Virgil and said, “Why did you say that?”

Virgil had lost the thread. “Why did I say what?”

“I asked you if they’d go for it. Franklin and Parr. You said you were sure of it.”

“Yeah, I am,” Virgil said, his voice taking on a note of sadness. “Get on the phone with Nicky, and have him tell the pilots to be ready. Also tell him to send the file we have on Duke, Branch, and the Youngs to Franklin. You’ve got Nicky’s number, right?”

Murton said he did, and that he’d handle it.

Virgil pulled out his phone and called Franklin. “How’s my favorite federal agent?”

“If I’m being honest, under the impression that you’re about to ruin my evening. I heard about what happened to the MCU. Actually I’ve been meaning to call, but my schedule has been rather hectic of late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Virgil said. “I know the feeling. And unless you consider a trip down to Jamaica with Parr—on one of the most luxurious private jets you’ve ever seen—a ruined evening, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“You’ve set the hook,” Franklin said. “Are you going to reel me in, or what?”

“In a matter of minutes you’ll be receiving a file that details the illegal activities of a number of people. Four of them are under surveillance right now down in Jamaica. We’d like you and Parr to go down there and make the arrests, then bring them back up here.”

“The private jet notwithstanding, I’m slightly underwhelmed.”

“The people presently in Jamaica are responsible for the bombing of the MCU,” Virgil said. “That makes it a case of international terrorism. I’d think that would look good on your resume.”

“Yes, it would,” Franklin said. “But as it happens⁠—”

“Franklin?”

“Yes? And for the record, it’s impolite to interrupt someone whose help you are seeking.”

Virgil hated to do it, because he knew it was fundamentally wrong on some level, but Franklin had once had a relationship with Mimi, and even though it hadn’t worked out, they’d remained friendly with each other over the years. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Mimi was severely injured in the blast that took out the MCU facility.”

“How severely?” Franklin said. “Jonesy? Are you there?”

“We found out only hours ago, Franklin. I’m sorry. She didn’t survive her injuries.”

Franklin asked Virgil to hold for a moment. It took nearly five minutes of waiting, but when Franklin came back on the line, his tone of voice was one Virgil had never heard before. It made him glad he wasn’t the one about to be arrested by a federal agent.

“When will the pilots be ready?”

“They’re waiting for you now at the Million Air facility.”

Franklin didn’t say a word. He simply ended the call. Thirty seconds later Virgil’s phone rang.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” Franklin said. “Consider it handled. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“And yours as well,” Virgil said. “Everything you need to know will be in the file. You’ll probably have a brief meeting with the head of the Jamaica Constabulary Force…a woman named Angelina Makko. I’ve been told that she’s very willing and ready to assist you.”

“I’ll let you know when we’ve got them.”

“Do that,” Virgil said. “Enjoy the trip.”

“Count on it.”

There was one more phone call that needed to be made before they left. When Nichole answered, Virgil said, “Need a favor.”

“Name it,” Nichole said.

“Could you please inform Angelina Makko that two agents from the Department of Homeland Security will be arriving in about five hours to arrest William Duke, Alex Branch, along with Tim and Amy Young. Once they have them, they’ll be extradited back to the United States…uh, on your plane, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, Jonesy. I’ll make the call right now. Tell agents Franklin and Parr there will be a vehicle and driver waiting when they arrive.”

“You know Franklin and Parr?” Virgil said.

“Well, we’ve never actually met, but we do like to keep ourselves informed. I assume that’s who’ll be showing up?”

Virgil laughed. “Yeah, it is. Thanks, Nichole. I gotta run. There are a couple of idiots I have to deal with up here.” Then, because Virgil really did care, he said, “Listen, the Youngs don’t have any kids with them, do they?”

“They do not,” Nichole said. “And you’re a good man, Virgil Jones.”

They all piled into Grady’s and Cole’s unmarked squad cars, then set up about a quarter of a mile away from Fat’s, behind an abandoned filling station. Everyone slipped into their tactical gear, and then there was an awkward moment when Grady and Virgil weren’t quite sure who should give the briefing. Finally Grady looked at Virgil and said, “Go ahead. It’s your show.”

Virgil gave his friend a nod and said, “I’m thinking if it worked before, it should work again…with a few minor adjustments. We can’t have Rosencrantz milling around the lot like we did last time. In fact, we can’t have anyone doing that because Holt and Brewer know all of us. Justin, Ross, I want you guys in a position that will give you a clear view of the inside of the bar. If you need to take a shot, the window, uh, okay listen, I don’t really know what I’m talking about here…”

“The window is a factor, Jonesy,” Ross said. “But we know what we’re doing. It won’t be a problem.”

“Okay, pick your spot, and let us know where you’re set up so we don’t get in your way. Get your earbuds in and get moving.”

Ross checked his sniper rifle one more time, then he and Cole headed out on foot.

Virgil looked at everyone else and said, “Mayo, Rosie, you guys take the back. Murt, I want you as close to that front door as possible. You’ve been inside before, so you’ll have the best chance at getting to Baker first if this thing goes sideways on us.”

“It’d be better if I was at the back, Jonesy,” Murton said. “It’s a shorter run with fewer people in the way.”

“Good enough,” Virgil said. “Grady and I will take the two front corners.” Virgil turned to Baker and said, “Look, Em…you don’t have any tactical gear, other than your earbuds, so use them to your advantage if you can. We’ll be able to hear every word you say if the music isn’t too loud. I’m hoping it won’t be because this place doesn’t really start to wind up until much later in the evening.”

“I’m good, Jonesy. I’ve got this.”

Virgil nodded at her. “I know you do, but I want you to think about something: I want you to think about Ortiz for a few seconds. That guy spent nearly twenty years kicking down doors and making all sorts of entries, but he would have flat-out died when you guys went to pick up Susan Carr if you hadn’t handled it like you did. That’s my way of saying you’ve got to be ready for anything. If Brewer is there—and she should be—sit at the bar, order a drink, make a little small talk, and see if you can spot Holt. Hell, for all we know, it might work out the other way around. Holt could be behind the bar, and Brewer might not be anywhere in sight. If that’s the case, don’t push Holt too hard. Your singular objective is to determine if they are both there or not. That means one drink, pay your tab, and walk the fuck out no matter who is or isn’t inside. You got me?”

“I hear you, boss. One drink, in and out.”

Over the comms they all heard Ross give them a position report. “West side, fifty meters out, clear background. Brewer is working the bar. No sign of Holt. Limited interior view. Front parking lot is empty. Two vehicles in the rear.”

“Roger that,” Virgil said. “We’re inbound now.” Then to everyone else: “Let’s get moving.”

They all double-timed it down the road, and once they were close and had the bar in sight, Murton, Mayo, and Rosencrantz all slipped away and headed toward the back. Virgil glanced at Grady and said, “Surprised there aren’t any cars here.”

“Still too early,” Grady said. “I’ll take the west corner up front. See you on the other side.”

Virgil gave Baker one more simple set of instructions: “Be careful, Em. I mean it.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. Watch your own back, hotshot.”

“I will. Give me two minutes to get in position, then walk in like you own the joint.”

Once Virgil was in place, he spoke quietly to Baker—she’d hung back and waited—and said, “Go now, Em.”

And Virgil, who was back at Fat’s for the second time and amped up from the adrenaline pouring through his system, felt like he was missing something, but he couldn’t think of what it was. They were here, they were ready, and they were about to end it all, but something was nagging at him. He almost called it off. He almost told Baker to walk away, and in fact was getting ready to do just that, but he never got the chance because Baker had just stepped into the bar.

EPILOGUE

Baker walked inside, and the first thought that went through her head was, What a dump. Then she smiled and walked up to the bar, pulled out a stool, and took a seat.

Christine Brewer was washing glasses, and when she looked up at Baker she said, “We ain’t really open yet. What are you smiling about?”

“I like this place. It’s got a lot of character. It’s kind of nice that I’m the only one here.”

“That’s because I just told you we ain’t open yet,” Brewer said.

“Does that mean a girl can’t get a drink?”

“No, I’ll serve you. What you want?”

“Bud draft, if you got it,” Baker said.

“If we’ve got it? Hell, if we didn’t, half our customers would leave, and the other half would probably burn the place to the ground.” Brewer pulled a mug, then slid it over to Baker, then went back to washing glasses.

“What time do things liven up around here?”

“About three hours from now. It’s a pretty rough crowd. I suggest you get yourself gone before that happens.”

Baker gave her a smile. “I can handle myself. You must be able to as well.”

Brewer stopped with the glass-washing and leaned against the back side of the bar, her hands still out of sight. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, if you’ve got as rough of a crowd as you say, I’m surprised you’re here all by yourself.”

“I ain’t. My brother is here somewhere. He’s got a bad arm, an attitude to go with it, and a big gun he ain’t afraid to use if need be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Baker said. “Sounds like you’ve had your share of trouble.”

“It’s a roadhouse in eastern Kentucky for fuckin’ A sake,” Brewer said. “What’d you expect?”

“No expectations,” Baker said. “Like I said, you’ve got a nice place here. What do you do about the troublemakers?”

“You want the truth?”

“Sure,” Baker said.

“We shoot ‘em.”

And that’s when the gun went off.

Baker jumped at the sound of gunfire and turned to look out the window. Over her earbuds she heard Ross—in what she would later describe as one of the calmest voices she’d ever heard—say, “Grady is down. Baker, hold in position. Justin, find me a target. ”

Holt was in the woods, his sniper rifle resting in the crook of a tree limb. After he shot Grady, he pulled the weapon, repositioned it to another spot, and tried to find the other men. With only one working arm it took him much longer than it should have. Once he got his rifle where he wanted it, he began to scan the woods where he’d seen Ross and Cole go when they first arrived.

Virgil heard the shot and headed for the back of the building. He knew if he stepped out front he wouldn’t have any cover, so he went with the rear instead. Mayo and Rosencrantz were getting ready to kick the door, but Murton was nowhere in sight.

Baker started to stand, but Brewer pumped the action on a shotgun hidden under the bar, smiled, and said, “See…those troublemakers I mentioned earlier? It was a bunch of hotshot cops who thought they could take us out. They killed my husband, crippled my brother, and now it looks like they’re back for more. You move one single muscle in that pretty little cop body of yours and I’ll blow your cute ass right off the bar stool. We’ve got trail cams all through these woods out here. We saw you guys coming a mile away.”

Ross heard it all over the tac comms, said, “Baker, don’t move.”

And Baker, who heard the command loud and clear, said, “Okay, okay.”

Brewer thought Baker was talking to her, and when the next shot was fired, Brewer died with a smile on her face.

Cole found Holt with his spotter’s scope and said, “New target, nine o’clock. Range fifty-two yards. Behind the tree.” Then Cole flattened himself on the ground, not out of fear of being hit, but because he knew what Ross was about to do.

Ross rolled, laid the bipod of his rifle on Cole’s back, found his target, and fired again. The shot clipped Holt in the neck, and he dropped out of sight.

“Two down,” Ross said. “Baker?”

“I’m good. Brewer is dead.”

Virgil had just turned the corner of the building and saw Murton working on Grady. He let that go because he knew Murton didn’t need him. “Ross, where am I going?”

Ross made his gun safe, put the scope on his boss, then said, “Straight ahead. Another twenty yards.”

Thirty seconds later, Virgil found Holt on the ground, blood gushing from his neck. Virgil sometimes wondered about his own humanity, the way he’d hardened over the years. He knew it was something to think about, but that would come later. He put his SIG back in its holster, then stood completely still and watched Holt bleed out and die, his thoughts of Mimi—and her love not yet given—swirling through his head.

Grady’s injury wasn’t life threatening…Holt’s shot had clipped him in the back of his thigh, and while it had caught a bit of muscle, it was more of a deep graze than anything. Murton had a pressure bandage held in place, and together he, Mayo, and Rosencrantz got him up and inside the bar.

Virgil called for an ambulance, and while they were waiting, Grady said, “Hey, Baker?”

“Yeah?”

“Get me a shot of whiskey or something, will you?”

Baker shook her head. “Jesus Christ, first it’s make the coffee for the Indiana cops, now it’s make the drinks for the Kentucky cops. Want me to see if they’ve got any beans and weenies back there?”

Grady looked at Virgil and said, “She’s going to fit right in.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, we pretty much already knew that.”

Grady got hauled away by the medics, Cole took charge of the scene, and after four hours had passed, everyone got a ride back home from Cool. The next morning, late—almost noon—Franklin called Virgil and said that Duke and Branch confessed to everything on the promise of leniency, then gave their statements on the plane ride back to Indianapolis. Amy and Tim Young denied any wrongdoing.

“The promise going to hold?” Virgil asked.

Franklin laughed and said, “What promise?”

“Thanks for the assist,” Virgil said. “Try to keep our paperwork to a minimum, will you?”

“Lots of paper when you start throwing around the word terrorism, my friend.”

“You going to be able to nail down the Youngs?”

“Oh yeah. They’ll be going to a place far, far away, if you know what I mean.”

Since Mimi’s body wouldn’t be released for burial until all the relevant facts and evidence had been sorted through and finalized by the various prosecutors in the case, Virgil decided to make good on his promise of taking some time off with Sandy and the boys in Jamaica. They were all talking about it at Virgil’s house, when Rosencrantz said, “Hell, I’ll go. Lucy is down there too, you know.”

“Well, I’m going for sure,” Murton said. “Becky is dying to see me.”

“Count me in,” Ross said. “I need to see Sarah and Liv.”

Virgil looked at Chip. “What about you, buddy? Want to spend some time on the island? My treat.”

“I don’t think so, Jonesy. It doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you think Mimi would want you to do?” Ross said.

Lawless let out a sad little chuckle. “She’d want me to go.”

“So honor your girl and come with us.”

It took some convincing, but Lawless finally gave in. “Okay, I’ll go, but I’ll be miserable the whole time.”

“Here’s something I’ve learned along the way,” Virgil said. “It’s better to be miserable in Jamaica than just about anywhere else in the world.” Then he turned to Mayo. “Hate to do this to you buddy, but someone has to stay and be in charge and get started on the paperwork. And since I know you want to stay and help out your partner…”

Mayo waved him off. “Ah, I don’t mind. Be nice to be the boss for once.”

Nicky called the pilots, got everything set, and once everyone was packed up, they all made the trek to the Million Air facility, where the jet was waiting. Virgil looked at Baker and said, “I appreciate you taking Larry the Dog while we’re gone. And keep an eye on Mayo. Don’t let him drive my Range Rover, huh?”

Baker said she’d handle it, then told everyone goodbye.

“You okay, Em?” Virgil asked. “You’re more than welcome to come. Besides, you get time off anyway for an officer-involved shooting.”

“I’m fine, Jonesy, really. Besides, I’ve got plenty to do up here. Maybe I’ll take the time when you guys get back. Would that be okay?”

Virgil shrugged and said, “Sure thing. See you soon, huh?”

Virgil was relieved that the case was over, and even more relieved at the thought of being back together with his family. He took a seat in the rear of the plane, ordered a drink from the flight attendant, then sat back and relaxed. He was looking at everyone on board, and after a quick head count, he turned around to make sure no one was behind him—nobody was—so he stood to move up toward the front to get a better view of who was on the plane. But when the flight attendant saw him stand up, she told Virgil he had to remain seated while they were taxiing.

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. “Could you tell Nicky that I’d like to speak with him once we’re underway?”

“Certainly sir, although you could speak with Mr. Pope right now if you’d like to call him.”

“Well, that’s a little silly,” Virgil said. “I’ll just wait until the seatbelt sign is turned off.”

The flight attendant smiled and said, “As you wish, sir.”

Then Murton, who was sitting next to Virgil, began to laugh.

Virgil looked over at his brother and said, “What’s so funny?”

“I think I know why Baker is going to take her time off after we get back.”

“Oh yeah. Why’s that?”

Murton pointed out the window of the plane, and when Virgil leaned down and looked over at the hangar, he saw Nicky and Baker with their arms around each other. Nicky gave them a great big wave like he didn’t have a care in the world, then turned, wrapped Baker up and gave her a long, passionate kiss.

Virgil looked at Murton, who simply said, “What? There’s nothing better than love, Virgil. Tell me I’m wrong. By the way, you brought that black AmEx card with you, right?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering,” Murton said. “As it happens, I’m a little low on cash…”

Thank you for reading State of Wrath. If you’re enjoying the series, then there’s good news:

Virgil and the gang will be back soon in:

State of X

— Also by Thomas Scott —

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Thomas Scott is the author of the Virgil Jones Mystery Thriller series, and the Jack Bellows series of novels. He lives in northern Indiana with his lovely wife, Debra, and his trusty sidekicks and writing buddies, Lucy the cat, and Buster the dog.

You may contact Thomas anytime via his website ThomasScottBooks.com where he personally answers every single email he receives. Be sure to sign up to be notified of the latest release information.

Also, if you enjoy the Virgil Jones series of books, leaving an honest review on Amazon.com helps others decide if a book is right for them. Just a sentence or two makes all the difference in the world. Plus, rumor has it that it’s good for the soul.

For information on future books in the Virgil Jones series, or to connect with the author, please visit:

ThomasScottBooks.com

And remember:

Virgil and the gang will return soon in State of X