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chungledown-bimothy · 5 years

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Trust Me: Chapter 9

I cannot thank y’all enough for your patience. Hopefully the fact that it’s a relatively big chapter a little bit kinda makes up for the wait? Either way, thank you so much for reading, and I love you <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 8 AO3 Chapter 10

Warnings: A brief mention of the wounds from previous chapters’ violence, very briefly implied nsfw/daddy kink (to skip it, just don’t read the text messages after “Aww, you’re so sweet!”

Author’s Note: Again, the cipher is crackable with the information you have. (I’d argue that this one might be a bit harder, because I gave you fewer/subtler clues, but if you get how it’s encrypted, decoding it is a lot easier.) Shoutout to y’all who got last chapter’s! <3

Word Count: 3,660

Tag List: @ccecode @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @ren-allen @ilovemygaydad @bloodropsblog @funsizedgremlin @raygelkitty @roxiefox23 @thomasthesandersengine @spookyingarbageisland @band-be-boss-blog

"The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it," Virgil muttered. Running his hand through his hair, he looked up to see that it was 8:30. He'd been at his desk staring at a copy of the note for over two hours. There was something familiar about the phrase; the feeling that he'd heard it before played in the back of his mind, just out of reach. He was sure that it was the key to solving the entire thing.

God, I wish I remembered more from that cryptology class I took in college. Okay, time for a new approach. Clean slate, let's go through what we know about him, Virgil thought.

He's a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He's highly intelligent and well-educated, likely with a medical background of some sort. He's a mission-based killer, set on punishing people he feels got away with things, things the system should have punished them fore. Before Jason Dean, it seems. That change in victimology must be connected to why he sent this note, so I'll put a pin in that for now; I'll talk to Vincent about the autopsy report when he's done with it.

He seems divided; some of the torture is methodical, but some of it seems more motivated by rage than purpose. And then there's how he treats them. Mission-oriented killers don't often torture their victims; the payoff is from the kill itself. But he's feeding them, keeping them alive for a while so he can torture them.

Does he want them to know what he's done? That's it. He wants them to recognize their 'sins', perhaps even repent for them. He needs the validation that comes from them acknowledging his power and that he is correct.

Everything he does has a literal meaning and a symbolic one, he continued. Nothing has only one meaning. On the surface, he's saying that he knows that what he's doing is wrong, legally at least, but he finds it beautiful. Interesting choice of wording. Not right, not just. Beautiful. It feels like he cares more about the torture than the mission. But then why the remorse with the pseudo-burial? He's so full of contradictions. And then there's the bit at the end. "Publish me", he said, not "publish this". Which goes back to the fact that he's got one hell of an ego; he wants the focus on him. Which directly flies in the face of most mission oriented killers- they want the focus on their message.

I would almost think that there might be two unsubs, but two people being this organized and methodical is extremely unlikely. He's way too egotistical to cooperate with a partner, however submissive said partner might be.

So, we've got an incredibly smart unsub who knows it and feels like he isn't getting the attention he deserves. A younger child, maybe? Not that that would help us find him. Round up every smart, egotistical younger son in the city. We'd get the founders of every tech start-up in the city; it'd be Gentrifiers-R-Us. Virgil shook his head to clear out the unhelpful thoughts. Focus, Virge. You're on a clock. So, what kind of encryption does someone like that send? What kind of encryption has each word represented by three numbers? It's not a trifid cipher; none of the numbers would be bigger than three, and these numbers range from 1 to 192. Most number ciphers assign a number to each letter; no way in hell all of the words are three letters, and 192 and 26 do not play well together mathematically. Think, Virgil.

Fuck. Okay, let's try another new angle. The series of numbers at the end. Clearly not part of the message. 10 digits, but clearly not a phone number. 055 certainly isn't a US area code, and the number isn't long enough for a foreign dialing code plus the rest of the phone number. Wait. Maybe it's backwards? 310 is Los Angeles.

Virgil took out his phone and dialed 310-053-3550, heart in his throat. It rang twice before an automated voice informed him that "the number you have dialed is no longer in service". Damn. His heart started beating in an entirely different way when he saw that he had some new texts.

6:22 [Patton]- Hi cutie! Are you free, by any chance? It's been a really bad day, and seeing you always makes me feel so much better. <3

6:50 [Patton]- I was thinking we could get some dinner and then watch a movie or something at my place

7:48 [Patton]- Virge?

Virgil's stomach dropped. Oh god do they think I'm ignoring them? Oh shit. He quickly typed out a reply.

8:53[Virgil<3]- Hey, Pat, I'm here. I'm so, so sorry you're having a bad day. I can't hang out tonight, though. :'( I'd be with you if I could, though. It's been a rough one for me, too. Wanna talk about what's been bringing you down?

Their reply was almost instant.

[Patton]- Virgil! :D Aww, stormcloud, it's okay. Life happens; it wouldn't be healthy for either of us if you dropped everything when I'm just a little down. Besides, it was nothing, really. Just me being dramatic lol

Virgil felt himself blush at the endearment, but his brow furrowed reading the rest of the message.

[Virgil<3]- You sure? It also isn't healthy to bottle up your emotions. I care a lot about you and am always here if you want to talk about anything.

[Patton]- God, you're the sweetest! <3 I care a lot about you too. I promise, though, I really am fine. Do you wanna talk about what's bumming you out?

[Virgil<3]- I really wish I could, but I actually have to get back to it. I'll message you later <3

[Patton]- okie dokie. Don't work too late, okay?

He chuckled as he put his phone away and looked back at the note on his desk. Heather and Kurt are obviously people, Ram probably is too. Who are they, and what do they mean to him? The phone on his desk started to ring; Virgil jumped.

"H- hello? Detective Mason here." Virgil cursed himself for the shaky greeting.

"Virgil! I'm glad you're still here. It's Vincent. You said you wanted to know as soon as the autopsy was done; I'm waiting for a couple of particulates to come back, but the bulk of it is ready for you."

"Vincent, you are a lifesaver. I'll be down in a minute."

"Did you know that the candy Life Savers was invented in 1912 as a summer confectionary alternative to chocolate, which has a melting point of approximately 86 degrees?"

"I definitely did not know that, but I did know that they started as mints and didn't become the fruity candy we associate most with the brand now until the mid-1920s."

"Fruit flavors were introduced in 1921, to be exact, but they did not have holes in them like the mints did until 1925, which is probably the date to which you were referring."

Virgil laughed. "Damn, I thought I had you. I'll be right down." He hung up the phone and left for the morgue.

Three minutes later, he found himself being hugged by Dr. Nigel-Murray.

"I'm as touch-starved as the next gay, but why the hug? We just saw each other, like, five hours ago." Virgil looked slightly down at Vincent with a small smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to curb my workplace-inappropriate tendencies, but, barring once during a time of great stress, people in general don't respond in kind to my facts." Virgil's heart broke for the vulnerability and pain in his voice, and he made a mental note to learn as much trivia as possible.

"That's a damn shame. You're a great guy, Vince- let's get coffee or something once I've cracked this damn code."

"That sounds quite lovely, actually. What code, if I may ask?" Vincent's smile was appropriate for the fact that they were at work, but Virgil could tell that he was practically bouncing with excitement internally.

"Our killer sent a reporter a coded message. I've got about 21 hours to crack it if I want to get this guy to come to me."

"Not to overstep, but I've dabbled a bit in cryptography; perhaps I could be of some assistance?"

"I'd love another set of eyes on this, actually. Thank you! Here, give me your number, and I'll text you a picture of it once we've wrapped up here." Virgil pulled out his phone and unlocked it to find that his messages with Patton were still pulled up. He tried to stop himself from smiling, but he couldn't.

Vincent chuckled. "He must be pretty special, to get a smile like that out of you." Virgil blushed.

"Uh, yeah, they are. At least, I think so. I hope so." Virgil fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, refusing to make eye contact.

"Sorry about the pronoun flub. So, tell me about them!"

Virgil hesitated; opening up about his feelings certainly wasn't one of his strong suits, but he liked Vincent and wanted to be his friend.

“They’re incredible. Their name is Patton, and they run We Hart Coffee just a few blocks from here. They’re so funny and kind, and I’ve never seen a smile like theirs. It’s so genuine and infectious. The world genuinely is a brighter and happier place around them.”

“You really love them, huh?”

“I- What? No. No way. That’s way too cliche. We meet in a coffee shop and are in love within a couple of weeks? This is real life, and stuff like that only happens in movies and fanfiction. And completely unrealistic. What?" Virgil snapped, seeing the grin on Vincent's face.

"Trust me, Virgil. My first doctorate advisor, Doctor Brennan, was in deep denial of her love for her partner, Agent Booth. They're now happily married with two kids. I know what repressed love looks like, and you, my friend, have it in proverbial spades."

"I'm not sure that that's the right use for that cliche, and besides…" Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So what if you're right? Even if I did love them, which I don't, they don't love me back."

"Not yet, perhaps, but you're a great guy, Virgil. Smart, funny, caring, and quite handsome. If I were into men, I'm certain I would be half in love with you, myself. Just give them time."

"Christ, Vince, I'm gonna cry at work and ruin the tough-guy aesthetic I work so hard to maintain."

Vincent hummed his disbelief. "As much as I love chatting with you, I believe you're here about a murder. Follow me, if you will."

"Right. Murder." Virgil muttered before following him into the lab.

"So, you know who he is. 18 year old Mission High student Jason Dean. You saw the burns, frostbite, and acid damage. We were able to determine that the frostbite was caused by liquid nitrogen, and the killer used hydrochloric acid. We also found that while he was less dehydrated than the part victims, likely due to being held for only about a week, as opposed to two or three like previous victims, he was far more malnourished than the others."

"God, why is he changing so much? A kid, a shortened timetable, not feeding him. What was the cause of death?"

"Strychnine poisoning."

"See, that's a huge departure, too. All of the previous torture was from knives and hands. Why the sudden change to substances? Did he get injured, or is something else limiting his manual dexterity?"

"I don't know about any of that, but strychnine is a fairly popular poison in popular culture; Agatha Christie used it three times- in Mysterious Affair at Styles, The Coming of Mr. Quin, and How Does Your Garden Grow?, and Arthur Conan Doyle used it in-"

"Oh. OH. Vincent, I love you, you know-it-all." Virgil started pacing, running his fingers through his hair.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd."

"What? Strychnine wasn't used in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd; Ackroyd was stabbed."

"Yes, I know. The note the killer sent. At the bottom of the code, he wrote 'the truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it'. It seemed so familiar, but I couldn't place it until you just brought up Agatha Christie. Poirot said it in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The number. I'm an idiot."

"Breathe, Virgil. I assume that you just cracked the code?"

"Not quite. But I cracked our unsub. I knew it. I knew he'd hand me the answer. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out."

"Okay, so how does The Murder of Roger Ackroyd help you?"

"Under the quote is a thirteen digit number. I'd bet my life that it's an ISBN for a specific printing of the book. It's an Arnold Cipher. Each series of three numbers is a page, line, and word. It was staring me in the face. I truly am Boo-Boo the Fool." Vincent was puzzled by Virgil's last sentence, but Virgil was far too agitated for questioning it to be prudent.

Virgil took a deep breath. "Okay, sorry about that. So, back to Jason?"

"Oh, right. Jason. Um, the only other thing of note that we have found at this point are fibers from a 1950s Volkswagen Beetle."

"That's gonna help a ton, as well. Vincent, you are my hero!" Virgil scooped him up into a big hug before leaving the morgue, leaving Vincent speechless for the first time in his life.

Virgil ran back up to his desk, furiously typing in his password. It took him three tries to correctly enter the number into the San Francisco Public Library website's search bar. He eventually got it, and there it was. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie. And two copies were available. The library didn't open until 12 pm the next day, however, so he went home after setting an alarm on his phone and sending a quick text to Patton.

9:52 [To:Patton]- Hey, wanna get dinner tomorrow night?

He was ecstatic to see a message from them when he got home.

9:55 [Patton]- Absolutely! You got the problem worked out? :D

10:10 [Virgil <3]- I found the solution, and will get it resolved by the end of the week. I'll pick you up on Friday at 7? We'll take a walk in the park and then House of Prime Rib, on me?

[Patton]- Are we celebrating something? Or are you trying to tell me you want to be my sugar daddy? ;P

[Virgil <3]- Trust me, Pat, if I had sugar daddy money, I'd love nothing more than to spoil you rotten. But nah, it's a combination of a small celebration and an apology for being unavailable today and for the next few days until Friday. (and i may or may not be buttering you up in hopes you'll share what's bringing you down)

[Patton]- Aww, you're so sweet! <3 (Can I call you daddy anyway?)

[Virgil <3]- Only if you want to be rewarded, baby. ;)

[Patton]- I'll be a good boy for you, daddy, I promise.

Virgil noted their preferred appellation and responded in kind with a wicked smile.

--------

The next morning, Virgil woke up half an hour before his alarm was set to go off, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. I'm finally going to get this guy.

Figuring there was no point in just waiting around, he got ready and went right to work. He knew Captain Sanders would want a breakdown of the previous night's findings before he could start following the leads he had gotten from Vincent the previous night.

He got to the station and immediately started looking into Jason Dean and the possible claim that he was a murderer. It didn't take him long to find that three Mission High students committed suicide 2 months prior named Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Virgil tracked down the police reports for the deaths. By all accounts, they appeared to be through-and-through suicides. If Jason did kill them, the killer would need to be quite close to either one of the victims or Jason himself. Linking the suicides would imply that he's close to all of them. Maybe through school? Science classes are more than likely to have liquid nitrogen and hydrochloric acid. Any teacher would have access, but I'll look more into science teachers in particular. He's displayed some anatomical knowledge as well.

Captain Sanders walked into the precinct, calling for Virgil to follow him into his office.

"So, what do you have?" he asked, after they'd arrived and shut the door.

"The note is a book cipher based on Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The library has a copy of the specific edition I need to crack it, so I'm going to pick that up at noon, as soon as the library opens. Looking into the 'murderer' thing, there were three suicides at Mission High 5 months ago, whose names match the three not-coded words in the note- Heather, Kurt, and Ram. If they were murdered by Jason, that means the killer is close to one of them, most likely Jason himself. I think that's what the killer is alluding to in the note, but we'll see once I've decoded it. Add in the liquid nitrogen, and it points to a teacher, likely a science teacher. So I'm going to crack the code and look for other insights into him and look into Mission High science teachers. I have an updated profile, and I'll email that to you right away."

"That sounds wonderful, Mason. You've been doing excellent work; we're glad to have you."

Virgil shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I'm just doing my best, sir. If you'll excuse me, the library is about to open, and I'd like to get the book as soon as possible."

"Sounds great to me! Just send me that profile before you go."

"Will do, sir. Thank you." Virgil turned and left the room, hurrying to his computer before rushing to the library.

A short while later, he was back at his desk with a battered copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. It wasn't difficult to decode the message, but it did take a bit of time and a lot of counting and re-counting. Word by word, the message became clear: He killed Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Find the weapon; I know he had it. It is your evidence.

Virgil sat back in his chair once he'd finished, puzzled by what the note revealed that he hadn't already deduced. 'He' has to be referring to Jason. He knew we'd find out the reasons for him choosing the previous victims, but he needed to be sure we'd know why he thinks Jason deserved to die. I looked at the police reports for those deaths; the gun used to kill Ram and Sweeney was recovered on-site and is in police custody. He's obsessed with his mission, though. He wouldn't make this claim if he wasn't sure. I'll look into that once we've caught our killer. For my peace of mind, at least. Virgil cracked his knuckles and picked up his phone.

"Roman Prince, SFGate, how can I help you?"

"Roman, it's Detective Mason. Can you come down to the station right away?" The responding scream was so loud, Virgil had to move his phone away from his ear. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"Absolutely, Detective. I will be there as soon as physically possible."

"Don't break any traffic l-" The line went dead, cutting Virgil off.

Far sooner than could have been legal, Roman skidded to a stop in front of Virgil's desk.

"HelloVirgildidyoucrackthecode?DoIgettowritearesponse?CanI-"

"BREATHE, Roman." Virgil stood, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Yes, I cracked the code. Yes, you will publish a response tonight. But I'm writing it. I assume your laptop is in your bag?" Roman simply nodded- he knew that if he tried to speak, he'd start rambling again. "Fantastic. Let's get going."

45 minutes (and one call from Captain Sanders to Dan Humphrey about how not allowing it to be posted immediately would be obstruction of justice) later, a new post was live on SFGate's website. It was 4:02 pm, two hours before the deadline.

An Open Letter to U N Owen

It was a pleasure hearing from you. While I obviously cannot condone your methods, you are correct that our justice system is imperfect, and those imperfections need addressing. You gave me quite a puzzle, and I enjoyed solving it. It was clever, but not clever enough. I hope you'll forgive me for not following your directions; please let me know if this is inadequate.

Vq rwv kv dnwpvna, aqw'tg ytqpi. Jg fqgup'v jcxg kv, yg fq. Yg'xg jcf kv htqo vjg xgta dgikppkpi. Dwv aqw cntgcfa mpqy vjcv. Aqw'tg hct vqq engxgt vq jcxg pqv mpqyp vjcv. Wpnguu K'o qxgtguvkocvkpi aqw, yjkej ku c fghkpkvg rquukdknkva. Aqwt qvjgt cuugtvkqp jcu dggp pqvgf, cpf K uygct vq aqw vjcv K yknn rwtuwg vjcv qpeg yg ugvvng vjku ocvvgt dgvyggp wu.

Hqt pqy, vjqwij, aqw ujqwnf mpqy vjcv aqw'xg iqvvgp unqrra, cpf vjcv kv'u qpna c ocvvgt qh vkog dghqtg K hkpf aqw cpf tgrca aqw kp vjg ngicn hqto qh vjg eqkp aqw icxg vjgo. Aqw yknn (ogvcrjqtkecnna) jcpi hqt vjku.

Sincerely,

Det. Mason Poirot II

--------------------

Logan refreshed SFGate.com for the thirteenth time that day and was finally rewarded for his tenacity; the post was less than five minutes old. He read it twice, rage simmering in his chest and a smile on his face. "Detective Mason," he said to his empty apartment, "a worthy adversary indeed. The game is on."

#virgil sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #ts ff #roman sanders #patton sanders #moxiety #analogical #prinxiety #sanders sides #trust me #trust me fic #my writing #serial killer au

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