I started toward the door, but Judge Bryce didn’t move. He knew that I wasn’t going to push him aside. “You’re not leaving here until you tell me what you’re doing.”
I looked at him. We stared at each other in silence, and then I bowed. “Fine.” I took a few steps back, gathering my words. “I think you may have been right about Schmitty,” I said. “He’s stalling on the investigation. They all are. We’ve only talked and met once over the past few weeks. He’s not returning my calls again, so I thought I’d try and get it myself.”
Judge Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “Get what?”
“The security videos,” I said. “We know the date and approximate time that the Turner boy disappeared. So I want to see the security footage of who took the probation vans that night.”
Judge Bryce studied me, and then he looked over at his computer. “You think I have the security videos on my computer?” His voice dripped with skepticism and disappointment.
I shook my head. “No, but the videos are stored in the judicial district’s system. It’s pretty well protected, I’m told. But if we get past the first security gate, it’s easier.”
“We?”
“A friend,” I said.
“Does your friend have a name?”
“Of course.”
“And?”
I hesitated. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it matters.”
“Just a guy at a coffee shop near me. He sent you an e-mail. I just needed to click the link, and he’d be able to get inside, break through a few more firewalls, and find out if there’s video of who’s been taking these kids.”
“A guy at a coffee shop.” Judge Bryce shook his head and took a step toward me. “And you didn’t trust the police to do this?”
I shook my head, thinking of Schmitty. “Not really.”
“And nobody else knows you did this?”
“No.”
Judge Bryce didn’t respond. He stood in silence, thinking about my response. I could see him silently processing everything that I had revealed, working it through. Eventually he stopped staring at me and looked down at the ground.
The silence seemed like an eternity.
Then Judge Bryce took a deep breath, put his hands on his hips, and looked up at me. He had a huge smile on his face. “Well that was a ballsy plan, Glass.” Judge Bryce started to laugh. “Incredibly stupid, too.” He walked over to me, still smiling, and put his hand on my shoulder.
“You should’ve just asked me to do it.” He patted me on the back. “I can’t wait to nail the asshole who’s responsible for all this shit.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
The cell phone’s ringtone distantly rattled some part of my brain, but the vibration on my nightstand really did it. A mini-jackhammer pounding on the wood top.
I reached for the phone. “Hello?”
It was Nikolas.
I rubbed my eyes. “Can this wait, man?” I was trying to figure out whether this was a dream. “Connect in the morning or something?”
Nikolas told me I had to come down to the shop.
“Seriously?” I tried to sit up, but my body refused to follow any commands.
“Just come down to the shop,” Nikolas said. “Need you to come down to the shop, right now.”
“Why?” I asked, but Nikolas had already hung up.
I turned on a light, looked at the clock—3:19 a.m.—and considered calling Nikolas back to tell him I wasn’t coming. It would have been the right decision, but as I sat there and actually processed what was going on, I started to get excited. Maybe he’d actually found something.
I left a note for Sammy, just in case she got up in the middle of the night and wondered where I was.
In the dead of night with no traffic, it took me about ten minutes to get to the office.
The street was dark. No lights were on, except at the Northside Roastery. I pulled around back and parked behind the coffee shop.
I was now wide awake, positive that I was about to watch a video of Jimmy Poles driving out of the Juvenile Justice Center’s parking lot on the night that Isaac’s brother went missing. Maybe, if I was lucky, there’d be some video picked up by a random camera near where the kidnapping actually occurred. It was a long shot, but it was possible. Cameras were everywhere.
I got out of my car and went to the back door. I knocked once. Nobody came. I knocked again, louder this time, and waited. “Nikolas, it’s me.” I tried the door, and it was unlocked.
Opening it a little wider, I took a step inside. “Hey, Nik, it’s Justin.” I peeked around the door. There was a light shining from the room where Nikolas worked.
Everything else was dark.
I took one step farther inside. Then an odd feeling rushed through me. Something wasn’t right. As I took a step back, I heard a click; then I felt a sting as two small fishhooks attached to my chest. Fifty thousand volts of electricity pulsed through my body and pushed me hard to the floor as I blacked out.
When I woke up, my mind was in a fog. Each breath took effort. My fingertips felt numb. I wasn’t sure where I was or how long I had been unconscious, but I knew the hard tile floor wasn’t my bed. I wasn’t at home.
There was talking. An angry voice barked orders. It was a familiar voice, but I couldn’t place it. I was too confused.
Lifting my head, I finally opened my eyes.
We were in the back office at the coffee shop. Recent events started to come back to me, and I realized that I was in trouble.
Nikolas was in his chair in front of his three computer monitors. Standing over Nikolas was a man. It wasn’t a local thug. It wasn’t Jimmy Poles. It wasn’t Sergeant Schmidt.
My mind was scattered and it was difficult to put the pieces together. I rubbed my face and tried to prop myself up.
He must have seen me out of the corner of his eye, noticing the movement.
Judge Bryce turned and smiled, pointing his gun at my head. “Nice of you to join us.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Judge Bryce wasn’t happy with how long it was taking. He became agitated whenever Nikolas scrolled through pages and pages of code. Judge Bryce thought Nikolas was stalling, which maybe he was. Nobody knew for sure.
“Judge,” I said, “what are you doing? Why?”
He looked back at me, annoyed, and then returned his attention to Nikolas without responding.
I figured he was going to kill me no matter what, so I didn’t have much to lose by being annoying. Even though my body ached, I pushed myself farther upright and tried again to engage. “You’re being stupid, Judge. Think this through.”
Judge Bryce looked back at me, pointing the gun. “Shut up.” I thought I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. There was nervousness.
“Schmitty already knows,” I lied. “I thought about your warning. I also thought about your enthusiasm for my investigation today. It didn’t feel right.”
“Don’t believe you.” Judge Bryce turned back to Nikolas. “I’ve been watching you for a long time. Even knew about him”—he nodded down toward Nikolas—“figured he’d be the one that was getting the stuff on Poles.”
“I’m telling you that Schmitty knows about you,” I lied again. “In addition to those videos, there’s other stuff out there connecting you to these murders. The cops are building the case, getting the warrants.”