Chapter 77

I was told that Maloney was in a meeting with Rich Tolland. I took that as a cue to barge into his office.

Bobby the Weasel first looked stunned, but quickly regained enough composure to snarl at me, “We are in a meeting, Warner.” He called for his secretary to remove me.

Rich stood, looking intimidating. “What is it now, JP?”

“I just wanted to tell both of you that Kyle Jones didn’t kill my brother, and I wanted to apologize.”

“We know that, Warner. I’m glad you came to your senses,” Maloney said. “Apology accepted, now please let yourself out before I have someone do it for you.”

“The name of the person who killed my brother is Grady Benson. His parents were killed by a drunk driver way back in 1989, and since then has been performing his brand of vigilante justice across the country. Some names of his victims include pro football star Leonard Harris and former US Senator Craig Kingsbury.”

A tense silence hung over the room, until Maloney responded, “What size straightjacket do you wear, Warner?”

Rich concurred, “You’re wasting our time here, JP.”

I kept my attention on Maloney. “Do you know how Benson found out about Craig Kingsbury being involved in a drunk driving fatality, Bobby?”

“Probably from that lunatic Lamar Thompson spouting off on TV,” he fired back. “And I thought I told you to call me Robert!”

“I’m sorry, Bobby, I was just feeling a little sentimental. Thinking back to when we were simple college students-me at Columbia, you at UNC. I think you were there at the same time as Craig Kingsbury, right?”

“What are you getting at, Warner?”

“I was just curious if you’d heard any talk on campus. You see, my sources tell me that Kingsbury was driving and Lynch was in the passenger seat. I also know Lamar Thompson was in the backseat on the driver’s side. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out who that other kid was in the car. I just thought you might have some inside knowledge, going to school there at the same time and all.”

I took a long look at him. I would have smirked, but there was nothing funny about this. He nervously fidgeted with his silk tie. It reminded me of a sweater that had begun to unravel. The first loose string looks so innocent, but soon it leads to another, and before you know it you can’t stop the demise.

“I don’t know, Warner. Maybe you can consult one of your great sources. I have work to do,” he said and sat down behind his desk.

“I did, and do you know what I learned?”

“I couldn’t care less.” His words were still firm, but the tone had turned hesitant. He knew he was entering a minefield.

“George Kingsbury arranged a deal with a crooked judge named Raymond Buford. They paid off the fourth kid in the car, the juvenile, for false testimony to make it all disappear for his son. It worked well, that is, until Grady Benson found out about it. Craig Kingsbury and his father are dead, along with Buford. And now Benson is coming after the last piece of the puzzle. Are you sure you don’t know who he is, Bobby?”

He stood and pointed angrily to the door. “Get out!”

Rich stepped in. “JP, I’m not sure where this is going. Is there a point in there, or do you just like to hear yourself talk?”

“Trust me, Rich. I’m as sick of myself as you are. So I’ll shut my fat trap and let Bobby tell you what my point is. I think he knows what it is.”

“You’ve lost your mind, Warner!” Maloney shouted.

A grown man having a mental breakdown was not a pretty sight.

“Tell him, Bobby!”

“Get out!”

I reached across the desk and grabbed Maloney by his pricey tie and pulled him close enough to my face to feel my stubble. “I said tell Chief Tolland who the fourth person in the car was!”

Rich physically separated us with a very recognizable look. It was the “I’ve had all the JP Warner I can stand for the rest of my life” look. I got that a lot.

I began to nonchalantly walk out of the office. “I’m a little hurt, Bobby. I was just trying to save your life.”

“Freeze!” Rich’s voice echoed throughout the room. He knew I was up to something.

I stopped and turned.

“Spill it, JP,” he said. It was an order.

I walked back to Maloney’s desk. I reached into my overnight bag and pulled out a glossy black-and-white US Air Force photo of Grady Benson and tossed the photo on the desk. It fell right beside framed pictures of Maloney’s perfect family. Even with the passing of years, there wasn’t a reasonable doubt that they were looking at a photo of the man they knew as Officer Kyle Jones.

Rich stared hypnotically at the photo. Maloney looked like he was about to throw up.

“By the way, Benson loves to kill on anniversaries. Just ask Noah. What was the date of the Lamar Thompson accident?” I asked, knowing the answer, but still wanting the confession.

“October tenth,” Maloney mumbled.

“Well, at least that gives you a couple days to say your good-byes and to get your will updated. Did I mention that October 10 this year is the 20th anniversary of the accident? I’m guessing that Benson might be planning a reunion for that day.”

I began strutting toward the door

“Please come back,” he uttered feebly.

“Excuse me?”

“Please come back,” he said, this time louder.

Having gotten my pound of flesh, I turned to face him. He bowed his head in shame. If he thought the sympathy card would work he had the wrong jury.

“I was a kid. George Kingsbury was a powerful man. They promised me that my name would never be released. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that Lacey woman. But it’s not like I was the one driving the car.”

I walked behind the desk, lifted Maloney’s sulking head, and drove my fist into his nose.

“That’s for Lamar Thompson. And if it weren’t for you, Benson would have never come here. So I’m holding you responsible for what he’s done since he arrived. If it weren’t for you … my brother would be alive. If it weren’t for you … Gwen wouldn’t be his hostage right now!”

Rich pulled me away from Maloney before a murder occurred. He wasn’t overreacting. He then looked at me with a confused look. “Gwen Delaney is being held hostage?”

I pointed at Rich in the way my mother taught me not to point at people. “That’s why I’m in charge now. That is, unless you want the world to know you not only hired, but enabled a mass murderer. And covered up that video of ‘Officer Jones’ assaulting Carter.”

Rich stood motionless, his bulky arms crossed across his massive chest. Maloney’s head was tilted back with a rag over his nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

I had the floor. I began with Benson’s parents being killed by the speeding car of Timothy Kent. And then walked them through each disturbing step that led us to this day.

The story was insane, but nobody in the room could doubt it.

Rich added, “That’s all circumstantial. I can’t arrest him just on innuendo. My only option is to charge him with impersonating an officer. That will at least get him off the street if he has plans of doing something on the anniversary of the accident.”

“If you arrest him I will never see Gwen again.”

“Then what do you propose we do?”

“I have a plan. Bobby-go set up a press conference for tomorrow morning. You have a big announcement to make.”

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