Chapter 48: Pinned

"If Dr. Roberts comes through like I am certain he will, I will never have to worry about having little Islas to contend with..." George clenched his eyes, so the horrifying words from the page would stop jumping out at him, assaulting his eyes. The meaning was clear; Julia Jackson had somehow found a way to convince the doctor who handled Isla's forced abortion to also ensure she was unable to have any more children. His blood ran cold, and he shuddered at the level of evil he was discovering. Chris and Harry were in the room with him, saying nothing but watching him closely.

He cleared his throat, wishing he could clear his head just as easily. A dull ache was beginning to spread from the base of his skull to other parts of his face. "Where did you say you found this, Harry?" He asked, unable to look away.

"Safe at her suite at The Continental," he answered soberly. Yet to fully recover from the shock himself, he knew, to an extent, what his partner was experiencing at the moment. Although, being less personally involved than George, he was certain the man felt way worse than he did. “Took a bit of doing, but I got access and jackpot," he gestured at the journal. "More evidence than we could have hoped for."

George felt glued to the page, unable to tear his eyes away. Isla had suffered so much needless pain and had been through so much torment. And for what? The greed of an evil, insatiable woman who just couldn't get enough? He balled and unballed his fists, anger coursing through his veins. He would do well to stay away from Julia, he advised himself, not exactly sure what he would do to her if he were to be in the same room with her.

"Umm... George?" Harry interrupted his thoughts. "Not to rush you or anything...I know it's quite a bit for you to process...but there's more. Way more." he said, gesturing for him to keep flipping. He could tell when George had gotten to the page he wanted him to be on. Their eyes clashed, looks speaking volumes. "Remember the big fish you said might be involved?" He asked, smiling victoriously. Harry could only imagine Julia going crazy now about her missing journal.

Chris couldn’t take the suspense no more. He hated being the only one in the room in the dark, and jumped up striding to George's side. He scanned the page, his eyes widening like George's after a few seconds.

"We got him," Chris whispered to George in disbelief. "We got the cocky bastard."

George grinned for the first time since he opened this book of horrors. Richard having his own private holding cell had been red flag one. The state of Richard when he had visited him in his holding cell was clue two. The man looked way too comfortable and clean for a person awaiting trial for charges that could net him twenty-five to life. The third clue was his cockiness; the man seemed unbothered and it was confirmed by his final words to George. "See you soon, George. Our reunion will be... eventful."

George instantly knew something was wrong and had swung into action, confiding in Chris only about his suspicions. Money was a strong motivator in these circles, and Richard had lots of it. So did his mother. They had squeezed and squeezed hard, but all they were able to find out was that Richard had yet to spend a single night in his holding cell, but was taken to a nearby hotel each night and returned first thing in the morning. George and Chris were unable to find out who gave the order, but he certainly had his suspicion. An order of that weight had to come from way up.

He stared at the open page of the journal. He had his proof and it couldn't have come at a better time. He smiled at his partners, grateful for the gift of loyal men. "Gentlemen, we have got a call to make."

***

Striding past the stammering secretary again, he walked into the office, not bothering to knock this time. "Hey buddy," he greeted in a friendly tone. "Fine day, isn't it?"

Chief Smith rose from his seat, furious. "Who the hell do you think you are to barge in here whenever you want!?" He roared. "Does this look like the fucking FBI headquarters?"

George was amused by his outburst. He had bigger things to worry about, he just didn't know it yet.

"Be calm, Smithie. Here in my hands are records of your finances over the past year," he said, brandishing a stack of papers ceremoniously, enjoying himself. "You seem to be doing quite excellently for yourself lately. Mind sharing your secret? One law enforcement officer to another, I strongly believe we should look after one another, wouldn't you agree?" he asked with a snug smile.

Chief Smith was speechless. His breathing heavy, eyes almost popping out of their sockets, and veins standing out. He looked like a coronary was fast on its way.

"No answer?" George asked, getting impatient. "Well, I've got someone here I think you will be more in club Ed to give some answers to. Chief Smith remained silent, looking on in terror as George stepped to the door and nodded at someone. A moment later, the door opened wide, and there standing with a furious look on their face was the Mayor and the FDA commissioner.

"You are a stain, a cancer to the body, and you deserve what is coming to you," George spat, striding out of the office.

His work here was done.