Page 18 of What’s Left of You (What Left #2)
“This is preposterous,” Warden Julius Bradshaw growls. “I’ve been on suspension for weeks! Enough of your ridiculous claims. I need to get back to CGP.”
I press my lips together, eyeing Captain Lance Wallsburg.
I’ve avoided having this meeting until now, but with the Citrus Grove Penitentiary under the interim watch of a new warden while the FBI investigates this one, things are tense.
It doesn’t help that the Warden is demanding to be reinstated, and he’s ready to go in front of a judge to do so.
“This is an ongoing investigation,” I remind him, speaking before the captain can.
Kyle’s father has a vendetta against me, even though I wasn’t involved in his son’s death.
We barely work together now, the FBI spearheading almost the entirety of the CGS case from my father’s house.
It may be unorthodox, but it’s less of a headache this way.
Getting back from Vinny’s family home last week left me with a lot of questions about the couple, but, as Jensen and Tyler spent most of my outing blowing up my phone about this meeting, I didn't have time to think about it. Julius threw a fit last week when I was unavailable for a meeting, and I thought maybe he finally realized that the FBI has nothing to do with reinstating his job, but it was a false hope. He stormed over to the local PD and Captain Wallsburg finally had to phone me. It’s been a grueling afternoon, and at this point I just need the day to be over.
We’re making no progress on the case, and additional problems like this really don’t need my input, yet here we are.
Vinny sent me an inadmissible recording, and I’m not sure what he wants me to do with it.
Gloria is proving that the Ajellos are interfering with an active, ongoing case, but this won’t hold up in court.
I need something to convince a judge to give me a warrant to go searching for the book, but it feels like a wasted effort.
If the book is anywhere, it’s probably with Massimo or thrown on the side of the road, purely out of spite.
Either way, it’s more than likely not in Gloria’s house in Citrus Grove, and I don’t particularly care right now about what other illegal shit the Ajellos are hiding.
“That I had no part in,” Bradshaw growls, and I realize I missed something else he said.
He presses his hands to the desk, looking between us.
The police captain stands behind his desk, and I stand to the side of him.
“Dr. Rowths - sorry, Porscha Surwright , had intel on the prison. Likely from her connection with your son, Captain.”
Captain Wallsburg slams his hands down on the desk, too, a vein protruding in his forehead.
The stress is eating at him; exhaustion is etched into his face and he sports deep, dark bags beneath his eyes.
Even the exhaustion can’t diminish his rage as he glares between us.
“Kyle was killed by a madwoman. She might be your official copycat. Kyle didn’t feed her any intel on the prison, Bradshaw.
My sources tell me you had conversations with Porscha too. Maybe you gave her the tips.”
“Porscha learned about the tunnels somehow,” I interrupt, and both sets of eyes turn towards me.
Neither of these men are off my radar, and there’s still speculation about the Warden’s involvement with Porscha.
“The schematics for the prison aren’t online, you have to find access to the official blueprints to even figure out where the access point is. ”
“So she got in good with someone at the county registrar’s office,” the captain argues before turning his glare back to Bradshaw. “Or the warden.”
“I value my job,” Warden Bradshaw fires back.
“The conversations I had with Ms. Surwright were during the time she was presenting herself as Ms. Rowths-Spurig and none of those happened in person.” He paused and his countenance grew sad and weary as he softened his gaze.
“I saw Kyle almost every day. He loved his work. I imagine he decided to partner with Porscha because he knew there was no more growth for him at the penitentiary. None of the superior officers were going to retire anytime soon.”
“You shut your mouth about Kyle,” Captain Wallsburg growls. “He worked hard for your damn jail.”
“As I just said. But seeing as he’s gone, Captain, his work can only be appreciated so much,” Bradshaw says sarcastically, his face once more becoming hard.
It’s the wrong thing to say, and I take a step towards Captain Wallsburg in case he’s thinking of doing something stupid, like reaching for his gun.
Luckily, it doesn’t happen but I keep my guard up.
“My prison is in an uproar. Inmates are getting into fights. Criminals are dying inside the prison, guards are being attacked. This didn’t happen on my watch. ”
I sigh. Technically, he’s not wrong. But he did have a questionable relationship with Porscha back when she was posing as a professor, which means we can’t completely rule out the possibility that he’s an accomplice.
For someone presumed dead, Porscha’s been surprisingly active from beyond the grave, writing a book, earning fraudulent psychology degrees, and who knows what else.
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 of another serial 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 at his prison under his watch.
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 her wounds 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 help I’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.”