Tough Justice: Countdown Box Set Read online

  Nick had no doubt this was Mitchell’s work. He didn’t want them to know anything about him, so was erasing as much information about himself as possible.

  It made their job harder. But it also let him know they were on the right track.

  “I’m sorry,” the registrar told him again. “There’s just no record whatsoever of a Mitchell Halpert. Even if he’d been here years ago, there would’ve been some sort of record. Are you sure you have the correct name?”

  Nick didn’t want to put the woman into a panic by suggesting that Halpert had probably hacked into their system and changed it. Knowing that was possible, by a student no less, would probably cause all sorts of campus panic.

  Nick didn’t answer her actual question, changing the subject instead. “You’ve worked here a long time, right—” he took a step back so he could catch her name on the placard on her desk “—Ms. Damrose?”

  “Twenty-four years. But I’ve seen thousands of students during that time. So showing me a picture and asking me for further info won’t help you, I can tell you that right now.”

  Nick smiled at the older woman. “I’m sure. I was actually wondering if you could tell me about your computer science programs and any sort of forensic science programs you have.”

  The woman was much more comfortable with this question. “We have both. Dr. Joe Joyner is the head of our computer science program and Dr. Lynn Rainard heads the forensic science program. Although honestly, that’s less of a program and more of a cluster of classes right now. We’re working on getting it accredited.”

  Having gotten as much information as they could from Ms. Damrose, they split up. They decided Ty and Jennifer would walk around campus, heading to the computer labs, library, common areas, anywhere where they could show Halpert’s picture to students who might recognize him. Nick would talk to department chairs for computer and forensic sciences.

  Nick decided to start with Dr. Rainard in the forensics department. Someone as smart as Halpert would know that understanding how law enforcement solved crimes would help him commit them also.

  Plus a forensic science program might have some sort of class where students got to learn how to blow shit up. That would surely catch Halpert’s interest.

  Dr. Lynn Rainard was an attractive, put-together woman in her late forties. She took the time to talk to Nick, but definitely didn’t recognize Halpert from his pictures.

  “I’m sorry. I’d like to help you, but I just don’t recognize him at all.” She took the picture to look at it one more time. “Although...he looks vaguely like a young man who was in my Introduction to Explosives class two or three semesters ago, but I’m not sure. The only reason I remember that guy at all was because he knew much more than me about explosives.”

  “Can you describe that person?”

  “Roughly the same age as this young man.” She pointed to the picture. “Same weight maybe. Thin. Caucasian. But the other person had black hair. Longer.”

  That very well could’ve been Halpert in disguise.

  “Do you remember any questions he asked?”

  “He wanted to know when we would get to work with the explosive ourselves. I explained that at a one hundred—level class, in a community college, we would not be handling explosives at all.”

  So much for blowing shit up.

  “He came to class a couple of times after that. Was able to answer every single question I threw at the students about chemical compounds in explosives, timers, detonators. I couldn’t best him no matter what. He probably could’ve taught the class.”

  “And then he just stopped coming?”

  “Yep. I was relieved more than anything else, to tell the truth.”

  Nick asked her a few more questions, but like the registrar, Dr. Rainard just saw too many students come through to be any sort of help remembering Halpert, if that was in fact him.

  But Dr. Joe Joyner, head of the computer science department, recognized Halpert’s picture instantly.

  “Mitchell,” he said softly, almost reverently when Nick show him the photo.

  “You know him?”

  “Yes. He is an absolutely brilliant young man when it comes to computer science. Many people are good at one aspect: design, coding, debugging, testing. Mitchell is brilliant at them all.”

  “So you know him well?”

  “As well as anybody knows him. I know what he’s capable of.” Dr. Joyner handed back the picture. “Can I ask a question? Is Mitchell dead?”

  Nick hadn’t been expecting that.

  “Why would you think he’s dead?”

  Dr. Joyner shrugged. “Mitchell was always odd. Didn’t get along well with others. Nobody was smart enough to keep up with him, so he didn’t have much patience, especially with his peers. Barely with me.”

  “No, he’s not dead. As far as we know.”

  “Did he kill someone?”

  Whoa. Nick took a step closer to the professor. Why would he be asking that? “Dr. Joyner, I think you better tell me everything you know about Mitchell Halpert.”

  The older man shook his head. “He did kill someone, didn’t he?”

  “I need to know why you’re asking me. Did he tell you he was going to kill someone?”

  “No. He showed me.”

  Did Dr. Joyner just admit to prior knowledge of the bombings? No. He’d said someone. Singular, not plural. The bombings had definitely been plural.

  “Fine, please show me.”

  Nick stayed very close as Dr. Joyner led him to his office and turned on the computer on his desk.

  Nick texted Ty and Jennifer while he was waiting to let them know where he was in case something went wrong. Like the good professor was an accomplice and pulled a gun on him.

  “Your colleagues are interviewing students, I presume? Trying to see if anyone knows Mitchell.”

  “Yes.”

  “I would imagine they’re not getting anywhere are they?”

  That was absolutely correct but Nick wasn’t sure why Dr. Joyner would know. “Why do you say that?”

  “Mitchell has very little tolerance for people his own age. He’s too brilliant for that. Thinks too quickly. Figures out what their response will be before they do, and just jumps ahead.”

  “I would imagine that didn’t make him the most popular guy on campus.”

  Dr. Joyner shook his head ruefully. “Definitely not. When he first attended everyone hated him. And I’ll admit Mitchell in large or small doses could be difficult to swallow. Soon he realized he should just not interact with others at all. Saved him a few punches in the face.”

  Nick pulled out his notebook. “Can you remember the names of any of the people Halpert had physical altercations with?”

  “No. We get a pretty high turnover of students here and I never knew any of them personally. Plus, Mitchell learned pretty quickly that it would be better to just keep to himself.” Dr. Joyner shifted his computer screen around so Nick could see it. “Please, sit down. This is what I wanted to show you.”

  The screen was black, not even a Windows background running and Dr. Joyner typed in some code or instructions or something.

  Up came some sort of elaborate computer world unlike anything Nick had ever seen. The graphics of both the people and buildings were mind-boggling. Complex and lifelike.

  “What is that? A game?”

  Dr. Joyner took a few minutes to show Nick more of it. To go inside some of the buildings and prove they were just as detailed in the interior as the exterior.

  “It could be called a game, similar to some of the life-simulation games that are out there.”

  Nick couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. “That is very definitely not The Sims, doctor.”

  Dr. Joyner chuckled. “No. Much more elabora
te. It’s pure genius. The game builds upon itself, configures different scenarios based on choices you make as a player. Where you choose to go.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what that means.”

  “It basically means you could sit here and play the simulation for the rest of your life and never get through it all.”

  “I’m assuming Mitchell Halpert developed this game.”

  “I would call it more of a world, but yes, Halpert designed it all.”

  Nick leaned in closer. “I can give you that it’s pretty amazing. But what about this computerized world made you ask me if Halpert had killed someone?”

  Dr. Joyner grimaced. “This.”

  He did something that caused his character to walk into a certain industrial building, nondescript except for the unnerving realism. “Mitchell shared this virtual location with me once. I think I was the only person who could understand the significance of it.”

  Joyner typed something in order to get through a secret door in the simulation. And unbelievably an entire new world.

  A song Nick recognized from Beyoncé’s Lemonade album began playing softly.

  “This is Mitchell’s personal world,” Joyner said. “Mitchell has shown a number of people the outer game, because, goodness gracious, that’s impressive enough. But he showed me this once. Only once. I think he thought I’d never be able to find my way back here.”

  “But you did.”

  Dr. Joyner looked over his glasses at Nick. “I may not be a genius like Mitchell, but I do hold a PhD in computer science. I’m not without skills. And one of Mitchell’s weaknesses is that he regularly underestimates others. Most people I’m sure he’s accurate in underestimating, but sometimes—perhaps in my case—he should’ve given me a little more credit.”

  Dr. Joyner turned back to the screen. “This entire game or world or simulation, whatever we’re calling it, that Mitchell created could’ve been sold and made him a great deal of money. But for some reason he’s been very hesitant to do that.”

  Nick marked that down in his notebook. He couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to make a few million dollars developing the next huge game everyone wanted.

  Of course, Nick also couldn’t understand why someone would blow up over a hundred innocent people. Which reminded him.

  “Dr. Joyner, this is all great, but still...why did you ask me if Mitchell had killed anyone?”

  “Because when Mitchell showed me this personal world he’d created six months ago there were thousands of people ‘living’—” the doctor used air quotes with his fingers “—in here. Working. Doing jobs, going home to families, living what would be considered normal lives.”

  “Okay.”

  “But when I came back in here a few days ago, this had happened.” Dr. Joyner moved deeper into Mitchell’s private world, close enough to allow them to see specifics.

  All the people inside Mitchell’s private world were dead. Lying scattered all over the ground.

  “What the hell?” Nick moved a little closer.

  “He killed them,” Dr. Joyner said. “It took him weeks, because he killed them one by one or in small groups. You can tell because if you click on them it tells when and how they died.”

  Dr. Joyner clicked on one and it brought up the information. As well as a graphically vivid death scene. Like something straight out of murder scenes Nick had worked as an agent.

  Halpert had taken what he’d learned in his forensic classes and applied it here. And it was pretty gruesome.

  “Please notice the signs on top of all the buildings,” Dr. Joyner pointed out. He zoomed in on one of them.

  Rejection and humiliation will not be tolerated. Those found guilty will be put to death.

  “Great. A warning, and not just for his simulated people either.”

  Dr. Joyner nodded.

  “Just to be clear, let me show you this.” Dr. Joyner took his avatar back out of Halpert’s private world and back into his own. Dr. Joyner’s eyes left the screen and met Nick’s. “I don’t condone this in any way. I just want to make sure you understand the gravity of the situation.”

  His avatar walked up to another person. “I’m going to kill this person. I grabbed a knife earlier, but it would be just as easy for me to do it with my avatar’s bare hands.”

  Nick watched as Dr. Joyner began killing the woman on the screen. The wounds—their sounds, the way the blood splattered—were so realistic, Nick was tempted to turn away. The woman on the screen sobbed in agony as Dr. Joyner sliced her again and again. She finally fell silent and dropped to the ground.

  “As you can see, killing someone in this simulation is not to be taken lightly. It’s personal and it’s graphic. And it has to affect you in some way.”

  Nick nodded. Outside of a real crime scene, that was the most hideous thing he’d ever experienced.

  “And Halpert did that to all the people in his world.”

  “Yes. Most of them individually.”

  “That’s sick.” Nick actually felt a bit nauseated.

  “That’s why I asked you if Mitchell had killed someone. Because he’d definitely been practicing in here.”

  Chapter Six

  Knowing they’d gotten all they could from the directors of BrainWave until their system was back online, Lara, Xander and James headed out, deciding to make a stop at the CMU offices while they were in the city.

  Lara logged the few notes she had into her work computer and knew she needed to call Nick to update him.

  She hesitated. Maybe she should get Xander or James to do it. Maybe Nick didn’t want to talk to her at all.

  But she pushed those thoughts away. One thing she could always count on from Nick was professionalism when it came to a case. He may not like or understand her actions or the differences between how they approached situations, but she knew he wanted to stop Mitchell Halpert just as much as she did.

  She hit the speed dial for his number, hoping he’d had more success at the community college with Ty and Jennifer than she and the guys had at BrainWave.

  But Nick’s phone went straight to voicemail. Maybe that was a sign that he’d found too much information to be able to talk. All Lara had basically discovered was that Beckett Clarke at BrainWave thought Halpert was a psychopath.

  Join the club.

  Nick’s voicemail message finished. “Nick, it’s me. Look, BrainWave was basically a bust. Their entire system is still down and leadership doesn’t remember anything concrete. Until they get their system back up or we find Beckett Clarke—”

  She broke off as her phone buzzed, signaling another call. She glanced at the number and muttered a curse when she saw it was the undercover protection detail assigned to Selfie Guy, Benjamin Johnson.

  “Someone’s on the other line, so I got to go. We’ll touch base later.” Then the words were out before she could stop them. “Listen about earlier, I am sorry, okay? I just—”

  The phone buzzed again. Dammit, this wasn’t the time for emotions.

  “Just, sorry.”

  She disconnected, shaking her head. She clicked the phone to answer the other call.

  “Hey, McKenney, what’s going on?”

  “Agent Grant.” Frustration tinged the man’s tone. “We have a problem.”

  “Is Johnson okay?”

  “Yes and no, ma’am.”

  “Specifics, McKenney, if you don’t mind.” Lara was out patience for anything else. “Where are you? The Johnson’s house?”

  “No, ma’am. Johnson insisted on going to the Starbucks down the block.”

  Lara rubbed her eyes. “I don’t see a problem with that as long as you’re with him. Has the situation turned dangerous in some way?”

  She could hear some sort of com
motion in the background. Maybe there really was a problem.

  “I don’t think he’s in any danger, ma’am, but he is adamant that you come here to sort something out.” Some more yelling in the background.

  “Is someone shouting at you, Officer McKenney?”

  “No ma’am. Johnson is shouting at the barista at Starbucks. He won’t talk to me. Demanded to talk to you.”

  Lara resisted the urge to curse, although she didn’t know why she bothered. Thankfully she was at least already in the city. “Okay, give me your location.”

  * * *

  Lara took a cab and arrived at the Upper West Side Starbucks in about ten minutes.

  She could hear Johnson yelling even from outside. She quickened her step.

  “You need to try all of them again, okay?” The young barista looked over at McKenney. “No, don’t look at him, look at my credit cards.”

  His voice got louder with each word.

  Lara walked up beside him. “Benjamin, what’s going on?”

  He spun at her, eyes wild. “What the hell did you do to my credit cards, Agent Grant?”

  “I didn’t do anything to your credit cards. But I am going to do something to your hands—cuff them behind your back and take you downtown to a cell—if you don’t get your shit together.”

  Benjamin took a deep breath. Through the sunglasses he still wore because of the damage to his eyes from the strobe effect, he looked at the barista then at Lara. “My credit cards don’t work.”

  Lara sighed. “It happens, Johnson. Maybe it’s their machine. Maybe the network is down. I don’t think it’s reason enough to give yourself a stroke.”

  “I tried to pay for my drink fifteen minutes ago and they didn’t work.” He pointed at Officer McKenney. “He had to pay.”

  “Okay, so you pay him back.”

  “He paid with a credit card and it was fine.”

  Lara breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, keeping her voice calm. “Credit cards get declined sometimes, Johnson.”

  “I watch a half dozen other people pay with credit cards and they worked fine.”