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The department is sparse today. It’s not a surprise since the penitentiary is supposed to be restructuring their security, which is part of the reason Bradshaw wants back in so bad. There’s a rift now between the PD and the prison, and whether CGP likes it or not, the prison can no longer syphon over employees from the police department when they need extra staff. The two facilities are becoming their own entities, and from what I’ve heard the prison is hiring state employees. Considering a Death Row felon managed to escape, the FDC decided to step in and make changes with how the prison isrun. More employees are being added to the staff, and there’s a clear divide now between the Citrus Grove Police Department and everyone working at CGP. It should’ve been like this from the beginning but a lot of things seem to slip under the radar in Citrus Grove.
Then there’s the prison riots, but I stop that train of thought before it gives me a headache. Alastair escaping should have made national news, but the FBI is working to keep this story under wraps. They don’t want or need a national scandal.
“You’ll want to get me back into the CGP,” Bradshaw says when we’re partway across the room. One of the officers smiles and nods to me, and I recognize Officer Murray. He reported to Emeric’s when there was a gunshot outside, right before Jo and Vinny invited me into their world. “Your father was smart enough to know that too.”
“Not in here,” I tell him beneath my breath, and his snide little chuckle makes my blood boil.
I really should’ve had someone come with me. But body number seven is waiting to be identified by the victim’s family, and the sixth victim is still a Jane Doe. My team needs to focus, not get distracted with drama.
For all I know, body number eight is pending. Since the prison break, we haven’t separated the copycat killings from the more recent ones—we’ve been grouping them all together to try to keep track. Eventually when we differentiate which kills were Porscha versus Alastair, they’ll have to be reordered to reflect the killing cycle.
Once we’ve cleared the building and made our way to visitor parking, I stop on the curb and face him. “What do you think you’ve got to tell me that I don’t already know,” I ask with a glare.
Bradshaw throws his head back, laughing like I’ve told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard, pressing a hand to hischest before he manages to calm down enough to speak. “Oh, you think you know everything, don’t you! I doubt Daddy Dearest shared some of his less saintly means of persuasion with his little protégé.”
I frown. Jo’s mentioned this before. “Are you talking about the rumors?”
“The ones about him assaulting victims?” Bradshaw asks, raising a brow. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about, Agent Gideon. He had a reputation. He could close cases, put away the worst killers, but he wasn’t a saint. Why do you think he retired early?”
I’ve talked with dad plenty over the years about his time in the FBI. He’s never mentioned the rumors to me, but we both know he did shady shit. It’s part of the reason I avoid him now.
“Dad retired for lots of reasons,” I offer, rocking on my heels. The Slayer was Dad’s biggest case. He spent more time in Citrus Grove working that case than he did on anything else. Arresting Alastair was his legacy, and now all of that is being questioned because of Porscha's sudden reappearance. “Cancer was the big one. Certain allegations may have been another.”
Bradshaw chuckles again. “Maybe there were more than allegations. Your father based his career off the successful arrest of Constantine. He apprehended a criminal mastermind barely out of high school. You never thought that some of the specifics were a little… sophisticated for a kid who just turned eighteen?”
I shrug. “He had a good understanding of anatomy and could easily subdue women. He had a type, he agreed to that when he admitted to the crimes.”
“Anyone can have a good understanding of anatomy,” Bradshaw argues, and I cross my arms. “Hell, any high school student knows anatomy. Porscha could have studied up on it. Maybe she was the real Slayer all along.”
“Perhaps, but it’s not an avenue we’re concerned about with new bodies appearing,” I tell him. “We’ll study the past when we’ve stopped this new killer. What is it that you want to hear from me, Warden?”
Bradshaw grins, but it isn’t friendly. “Do you think the prison is a mess right now? The longer your boss keeps an interim in place holding shit together, the worse things will get. I had a structure to the system. Death Row inmates had little contact with the rest of the prison population. The few murderers we housed were on revolving schedules where they never crossed paths. Until Wallsburg crossed us, I ran a tight ship.”
“And all it took to distract you from your precious schedule was one fake professor?” I ask sarcastically.
“Char-” He clears his throat. “Porscha didn’t distract me. I had a few conversations on the phone with her but my policy for guests isn’t flexible. The university wanting to bring over grad students was risky, but Professor Artemis convinced me that was a good plan some years ago. If I had known she knew Porscha I would never have let it happen.”
I blow out a breath. Artemis is on suspension, kind of like Bradshaw here, but she’s adamant she only ever knew Char. She claims no knowledge about the connection between Porscha and her alias.
It’s not something I believe, but we haven’t proven otherwise yet. Soto did some research on the professor, but nothing popped.
“Had we known any of this, Bradshaw, we wouldn’t be here now. And if I remember the rumors I keep hearing, you were friends with Char, isn’t that right?”
He scoffs. “Friends would be pushing it. I told you, we only ever spoke on the phone. We don’t reallyknoweach other.”
I glare at him, tilting my head. We’ve interviewed everyone who worked at CGP the week of the breakout, and I heard whispers about Rowths-Spurig more than once. Her name wasn’t just common; people actually knew who we were talking about when asked. Some even mentioned her first.
“I haven’t met her,” Norbert, one of the guards regularly on Alastair’s detail at the prison, tells me. Gabe and I have been doing interviews for a week, speaking to every single person there. Medical staff, security, inmates, maintenance staff, everyone. It’s been a lot.
Norbert was around quite a bit when we’d come to visit Alastair. I did his first interview the day of the breakout, then Jensen spoke to him a few days later. Today is interview number three and it's easy to see we’ve got him flustered. He’s definitely hiding something; nobody is this skittish if they’re innocent.
“But Professor Rowths-Spurig is known around the complex,” Gabe argues, eyeing me. “We’ve heard plenty of people mention her by name. You included.”
He tugs at the neckline of his shirt, looking away for a moment before speaking again. “I think, uh, I - I think I told Constantine that she’s good friends with the warden. Maybe someone overheard?”
“And how did you find out that Warden Bradshaw is friends with the professor?” I ask.
“He talks to her on the phone sometimes,” Norbert continues. “They’d been talking more lately. I think CGU was planning to have her come teach a class and maybe take on an advisory role here. Obviously, that’s not happening anymore—but that was the plan. He spent a lot of time on the phone with her.”