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Michaela slammed her landline down in frustration as she contemplated what to do next. She’d called an old friend, a retired state trooper who’d been head of the investigations division and asked him about an investigation into Dr. Nicholas Smirkowitz. With his permission, she’d taped the phone call. He’d told her the Virginia State Police had received complaints on and off for years about Smirkowitz but said they’d had never really been allowed to fully examine the case because roadblocks were constantly put up in their way. He’d told her evidence tapes had gone missing, potential complaints and witnesses had changed their minds and that once, a judge had blocked their search warrant.
She clicked on the tape recorder and listened... “I just don’t know how to explain it, Mic, or what to make of it. Our investigation always stopped at the attorney general’s office or evidence kept disappearing. I was never part of the ‘inner sanctum’ that was permitted to know why Smirkowitz was untouchable.”
The next part of the conversation had chilled her to the bone. “What I think is that somehow, this is tied to some powerful international group... maybe some sort of organized crime group. I just don’t know any more than that.”
Mic clicked off the recorder and texted Slade.