Page 25

She knows her audience and she plays into that. That’s what makes Porscha a fearsome adversary. Wherever she’s gone, she’s done a damn good job not drawing attention.
“I told you all I know about Porscha,” the Warden continues, lifting his chin. At five-foot-nine he’s not necessarily short, but he’s shorter than the two of us. “Her credentials as Professor Rowths-Spurig checked out. She wanted to join the graduate program where seniors come and sit with inmates. I advised her to speak with Professor Artemis at the school, however she wanted to still be able to come and check out the prison. To my knowledge she never visited the prison prior to the break out.”
“And you just so happened to be subdued by the gas like everyone else,” I prompt, watching as the warden nods. We’ve questioned him a dozen times over the last several weeks, and his story never changes. “You’ve taken your time requesting your position back, haven't you?”
Bradshaw glances away. “I took some time off to spend with my family since I was forced into this so-called vacation to begin with. You know, it’s a lot of fun explaining to your wife that a nationally-recognized serial killer escaped the prison, probably with the assistance ofanotherserial killer that was never brought to justice.” The sarcasm is thick but I give him an unimpressed look.
He’s trying to turn the blame on me, but the breakout took place athisprison underhiswatch. He was present during the time, and Porscha casually walked right out and through the tunnels with Alastair and Kyle. The bodies after sit heavy on my shoulders, but it wasn’t from my custody that Alastair disappeared.
Unfortunately, Porscha killed again that same morning. Of all the bodies, we’re pretty certain that one was her. Victim 5, Adaline Borkowski, matched the other kills. We’ve used herwounds to compare to all the other victims so far to try and distinguish which murders were Alastair’s doing and which were Porscha’s.
“That’s what we’re looking to do now, so we need to know the warden of the prison isn’t working with a felon,” I tell the both of them.
“Your security imperfections got my son killed,” Wallsburg bites out, and I pull my hand into a fist to help resist sighing. We’re going in circles.
“Look, the Deputy Director of the FBI wants me checking in daily with updates,” I continue. “It’s not up to anyone on my team. You’ll need to speak with the Florida Department of Corrections, Warden, just as we’ve told you before in the past. Until the FDC is convinced that you were entirely uninvolved with Porscha and the breakout, I doubt they are going to want to talk about reinstating you.”
“I never had anything to do with the breakout,” Bradshaw reiterates, glaring between us. “I’ve explained this to every one of you. I did not assist Porscha Surwright in the breakout. I was unaware of her intentions to do this at all.”
Technically, my boss would disagree. He doesn’t trust Bradshaw but there's nothing to pin on him when any evidence is circumstantial at best. The FBI may not have a hand in what happens with his job, but I’m not convinced he’s trustworthy enough to be in charge of the penitentiary again.
He huffs, turning his focus to me and icing out Lance entirely. “Look, what do you want, Agent Gideon? I’ll give you whatever details you want on your old man if you’ll put in a good word for me when the FDC speaks with you.”
Grinding my teeth, I can’t quite ignore the jab about my father. Over the last several weeks he’s made this offer more than once, and I haven’t taken the bait yet. My dad is still up in Atlanta, and thankfully each time he asks to come and helpI’ve been able to deter that train of thought. It should be all talk, especially with the cancer treatments, but dad makes poor decisions sometimes. “How’s gossip about my father going to help me now?”
Bradshaw tilts his head, a snide look sliding across his face. “Have you not heard the rumors then? It may or may not help you with your case, but perhaps someone disgruntled will be willing to speak with you about Alastair or Porscha. Maybe someone who was affected by the previous kills?”
“What rumors?” Captain Wallsburg asks. This is the first time he’s sounded marginally interested about anything since we arrived, and of course it’s because there could be dirt on my father.
“About Agent Edwin Gideon,” Bradshaw says, giving me a snide grin. “And his tactics to get people to speak.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask in a low voice, narrowing my eyes. I’ve heard vague whisperings and rumors about my father since long before I took this case, but it’s never come from someone in a position like Julius Bradshaw. Lying would gain him nothing, so if he’s sharing it’s either out of spite or the goodness of his heart.
I have a hard time believing the latter. He wants something, and part of me is worried about what he’s going to say.
This isn’t fucking relevant to the case. Stop getting distracted.
“You’re not going to speak with him,” Wallsburg tells me with a scoff. “His lack of security led to my son’s death. I won’t have you siding with the warden! He’s implicit in Kyle’s murder!”
I stop watching Bradshaw to focus on the captain. There’s pain in his eyes, and his grip is so tight on the desk, I wouldn’t be surprised if he broke the old wooden top. Hisknuckles are white, and behind all that rage is hurt. Kyle was buried a month ago, and it’s done nothing to appease his father. Lance doesn’t just want to bury his son and move on, he wants the murderer to suffer for killing him. The only thing that I think will satisfy him is seeing Porscha behind bars to pay for her crimes.
The warden is still pending his reinstatement and the FDC is in no rush to give him an update. His obsession with getting back to work could be as simple as cash flow and as shady as collaborating with Porscha behind our backs. I did a round of questioning with him, but Tyler handled the last two interviews as lead. She gets under his skin in ways I can’t, and he always seems to cave when she flashes him a smile. She doesn’t have to try half as hard as I do to get him to shut up and listen, but Tyler’s charms can’t help me now.
“Captain Wallsburg,” I say, ignoring the burn of his glare when he looks my way. “No one is ignoring your son’s death. He’s still part of the investigation surrounding Porscha and Alastair. Until we have them, we can’t get a definitive answer why he was killed.”
“You think either one of them can give you an answer,” Wallsburg seethes. “Porscha killed my son helping that, that,that criminal. Or she made Alastair do it. Or he chose to out of spite. One of them has to pay for the crime. When you get them, you give me five minutes alone with them and I’ll make them speak-”
“Captain,” I cut in, turning to him. Whatever he might say next is driven by rage and pain, and I don’t need to hear him threatening the people we are pursuing. I think as broken as Lance is inside, he won’t do something to destroy the case around Porscha and Alastair. Least of all if his actions work against justice for Kyle. “I think you need a breather. I’ll walk Warden Bradshaw out, and we can talk after-”
“No.” The captain looks away from us, staring at the wall. Near his desk is a photograph of Kyle when he graduated from the academy. Underneath on a small shelf is a keepsake badge with his name and badge number,RETIREDstamped across the center. He showed it to me at Kyle’s funeral, seemingly proud of his son and it was hard for me not to remind Captain Wallsburg that his son died siding with a killer. If, for some reason, Kyle was acting undercover that would’ve been revealed long ago. Instead he died standing against the badge he wore, not working for what it stood for.
But the captain can’t see through the haze of his grief.
Bradshaw clears his throat, looking between us as Captain Wallsburg falls silent. Bradshaw’s peppered hair is sticking out in places from where he keeps running his hands through it, and despite his tough demeanour he has a t-shirt on that saysWorld’s Greatest Grandpa, so he’s not dressing up to impress either of us. “I’ll see myself out, Captain.”
Wallsburg grunts as he waves us off, slumping down into his chair. He’s lost in the spiral that’s consumed him since Kyle died, and the warden shoots me a look.
“I’ll call if there are new details on the case,” I tell the captain, turning to the door. He doesn’t respond, and Bradshaw and I step out of the room in silence.