Officer Jones

Chapter 88

In preparation for the most important interview of my life, I flashed back to my high school journalism class.

Murray Brown was teaching the five W’s and one H of journalism-Who? What? Where? When? How? Why?

I squeezed the receiver and asked my first questions. Who?

“Your true identity is not Kyle Jones. Who are you and when did you begin this quest?”

“My name is Grady Benson,” he stated proudly. “My parents were murdered by a drunk driver on July 4, 1989. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was for a bigger purpose. A purpose not chosen by me, but a higher power.”

“So you’re saying that you’re not the Grady Benson who was arrested on Saturday?”

“Since you set that whole charade up, Warner, I believe you know the answer to your question.” His tone turned from philosophical to angry in a heartbeat, again reminding me of my captors. “Next question!”

When? “You were responsible for the death of Timothy Kent-the man who killed your parents-on the anniversary of their murder. Was that when your quest began?”

“It is not my quest, nor did I choose it’s beginning or end. I am just a simple servant of justice. Whenever it began, it wasn’t soon enough to save my parents, or that innocent girl that your brother murdered.”

I had almost bitten completely through my lip. “You seem to have a pattern of applying your brand of justice on the anniversary of your parents’ death. Anniversaries are very important to you.”

“It is a day that needs to be remembered and honored. Just like tonight-October 10-to most it’s just a mundane autumn day, but it is the anniversary of one of the most heinous crimes and cover-ups in history. One in which Bobby Maloney is the last remaining criminal left to pay for his actions.”

What? “What is this ‘heinous crime’ you speak of? What makes it stand out above the others in your mind?”

“October 10, twenty years ago to the day, Craig Kingsbury spearheaded the murder of Marilyn Lacey, a loving mother who was returning home to her family. In itself, it was a devious act. But the Kingsbury family used power and influence to cover up the murder, with the help of the crooked judge named Raymond Buford, and the testimony of our friend Maloney. Those who had the power to cover up those atrocities, yet willfully continued the cycle of pain, are the worst kind of evil!”

“With his high profile, I am assuming that you would consider Senator Kingsbury to be the biggest victory in your battle.”

“Your focus is too narrow,” he chastised. “Kingsbury might be the most visible symbol, but he’s just one in a long line of powerful people who have committed atrocities against the innocent, and then used their influence to save themselves. I just do my best to dry the tears of those who weep at the sword of injustice, as I was called to do. No one life is more important than another.”

He already covered the why? Sparked by his parents’ death, called by a higher being, et-cetera. For someone who didn’t think one life was more important than the next, he sure had a superior vision of himself.

I moved on to the how? “My focus might be too narrow, but I’m a reporter at heart, I can’t help it. I’m fascinated how you were able to get access to a US senator. And Leonard Harris-sounds like you got the houseboat idea from Kyle Jones.”

The means are irrelevant, as long as the ends were achieved.”

“Who do you think you’re dealing with here? You brought me here for a reason-you’ve been following my work at least since you saw my report about Judge Buford-you know I’m all about digging under the surface. As they say, the devil is in the details.”

“We don’t have time at the moment to go into it. But you will receive a complete interpretation in my journals, including a thorough account of how the symbols were eliminated. It will be an important part of your story, and you have my permission to publish them.”

“Where will I find these dead symbol scrolls?”

“You will be provided those details when we are finished here. It is mutually beneficial to both of us that you do.”

“Is that where Gwen is-with your journals?”

No answer. I took that as a yes. I visualized her chained in a dungeon like the “Bat Cave” in his Rockfield house, and I almost put my foot through the accelerator..

I continued up the curvy Zycko. The speedometer rose, as did the danger. I hated the feeling of not being in control, so I decided it was time to retake it.

Clarisse Johnson shouted into the cell phone, “JP, he is really picking up speed. Do you want us to get closer?”

Benson had provided them enough ammunition to take him down, so I was surprised they hadn’t made a hard charge-one that I feared would get people killed, namely Maloney and Gwen.

“Stay where you are,” I demanded.

I was whipping around sharp curves like I was maneuvering a bobsled course. It was the same route Noah and Lisa took that fateful night. I overloaded with emotions.

I passed The Natty where Noah asked for Lisa’s hand in marriage. I went to wipe away tears, but found it was just sweat.

I wasn’t sad.

I was pissed off.