STATE OF BETRAYAL: A Virgil Jones Mystery (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 2) Read Free

On that one, I’ve played
eight. Not just any eight either. I’ve got the system set up to bypass the
security measures at the point of sale, no matter where that might be. When the
bypass occurs, the program will compile, the code within the algorithm will run
and the nifty little printer they’ve got behind every gas station and grocery
store counter in the state will print out a post-dated ticket with any numbers
we want, which in our case happens to be the six numbers on the last board.”
    “Jesus, Nicky, that’s a lot of
money we’re talking about. I hope you’re right.”
    It was a lot of money, if you
consider just a shade over three hundred million dollars a lot of money. And
who wouldn’t? It was the single largest jackpot in the state’s history. Week
after week not one single person had hit all six numbers, then the momentum
started to build. When the amount hit fifty million people started to notice.
When the amount rose to one hundred and fifty million, people started lining up
at gas stations, grocery stores, mini-marts and anywhere else a lottery ticket
could be purchased. When it hit a quarter of a billion, people started showing
up from out of state, buying tickets instead of paying their bills. Then, when
it went to three hundred million dollars, the almost unimaginable happened. One
person hit all six numbers and won the single largest jackpot in the history of
the Indiana lottery.
    Except that person never came
forward to claim the prize.
    At first, the media coverage was
almost nonstop. Who was the winner? Why hadn’t they come forward? When would
they claim the prize? But after a few days of speculation, the media got bored,
the losers got pissed and the story began to fade away. There was some thought
that the winner—the real winner—had lost the ticket. Or maybe
they’d passed away, lost it to a house fire, or flood, or some other disaster. 
Theories of what happened to the ticket were almost as numerous as the jackpot
amount, but no amount of supposition produced the winning ticket or its holder.
Now, with less than two weeks left before the six-month deadline to claim the
prize, the money, if left unclaimed, would quietly go back to the state, just
like all other unclaimed payouts.
    “Oh I’m right. In a matter of days
you and I are going to be filthy rich, retired and trying to figure out how to
spend the interest on hundreds of millions of dollars.”
    “It doesn’t seem real.”
    Nicky laughed. “I know what you
mean. But believe me, it will seem real enough when you check your account
balances. Listen, I have to ask, just to make myself feel better…you know what
to do with that play slip right?”
    “I do.”
    “Tell me.”
    She rolled her eyes a little, then
told him.

 
     
     
    3
    __________
     
    I f
Virgil thought about it—and he often did—he’d have to admit the shooting
of James Pope still haunted him. After it happened he was still young and
foolish enough to believe that the past was just that and once free from its grasp
he’d not worry over it anymore or attempt to be the arbiter of events outside
his own control. Except those types of certainties are a preserve best left to youth,
a lesson Virgil thought he might never have to learn. Then before he knew it twenty
years had sailed away and now this; a summer like no other, the pain a constant
companion as it cut a swath through the jungle of his life, a trail laid bare
as if it were his only choice, at once clear and true. It would be a harbinger
of things to come, a combination of that moment from long ago and his life now,
one he might be able to point to someday and say, Ah, yes, that’s when it
turned. That’s when it all changed. If only…
    A late-afternoon haze drifted
across the sun but the air temperature held steady enough that no adjustments were
necessary to his line depth. The bobber he used was simple, made from the cork
of an old wine bottle and it vibrated in the water if he held too much