First Degree Innocence (17 page)

“I told you she’s innocent.”

“So you say. All I need to do is prove it and I don’t know how in the hell I’m gonna do it.”

“Run a check on a Marie Collins, birthday February 11, 1975, and see what you can dig up.”

“Who is she?”

“Another inmate recently checked in. She’s a dead-ringer for Carrie, and I have a gut-feeling she’s connected somehow.”

“You and your gut! If only those types of instincts were admissible in court, I could have solved this weeks ago.” Ryan laughed.

“Stop joking and get busy. You’ll see I’m right about this case. But, I gotta go. Break’s over and today’s my first day working with the women. I’ll see what I can learn on this end.”

Ryan terminated the call and stared at his wife’s smiling face in the photo he used as wallpaper on his cell. God, how he loved Diane. As the screen blackened, he sensed a renewed determination to find a way to free his friend’s newfound love. She had to be something special to attract a confirmed bachelor like Seth.

He typed in the web address to People Search. Thank God for paid subscriptions or he’d have to mortgage his house for all the times he used the site. He didn’t hold out much hope on finding only one person with such a common name, but only three with the same birthday were listed. Damn, he needed a middle name or initial.

Further checking showed one deceased and one with no known criminal activity. That narrowed the field to one Marie Collins who’d had a record a mile long and coincidentally, had just been incarcerated for violating her probation by engaging in petty larceny.

Ryan switched to another screen and cupped his chin. “Hmm, Marie, you’re a naughty little girl, and I intend to dig around in your background to find out your deepest, darkest secrets.”

Chapter Nineteen

“You’ll be working the laundry, Martin.” Ogden ran a wrinkled finger down a sheet of paper on her clipboard. “Any questions?”

“No, Ma’am.” Seth tamped down his disappointment. He’d much rather oversee the recreation room, but the call wasn’t his. At least he’d have access to Carrie’s look alike.

“Meeting adjourned.” The corpulent matron tucked her clipboard beneath her arm and lit a cigarette as if her life depended on it.

Disgust gripped Seth and he wanted to point out the rules against smoking in a government building, but he bit his tongue. The last thing he needed right now was to piss off Ogden and lose his assignment to work on the women’s side of the prison.

His shoulders slumping, he walked the long hallway to the laundry facility. He kept glancing back, down the corridor leading to the recreation area—the one that passed in front of Carrie’s cell. So close, yet so far from seeing her. To his surprise, a lump formed in his throat. He hadn’t sensed such emotions since he stepped on his childhood turtle and killed his favorite pet. He gave half-hearted chuckle, now finding it funny how memories from so long ago drifted back and connected with his adult life. Carrie and a turtle? Strange, to say the least.

Seth squared himself outside the laundry room door. The smell of bleach and detergent drifted out to meet him. Such a pleasant combination beat the smell of sweat and dirty asses that he suffered in the men’s lockup.

Clearing his throat, he narrowed his lips and eyes. The need to present an emotionless presence among the inmates had been drummed into him since basic training. Working among the men, he’d learned why. Any hint of friendship or compassion led to an inmate trying to take advantage and gain privileges. Disliking male inmates came naturally. Somewhere, they’d let their families down.

He snickered at breaking the house rule with Carrie. What about her thawed the icy wall he hid behind? Sucking in a breath, he sobered again, tucked aside thoughts of her for the moment, and pushed through the swinging door.

The room hummed with activity. Female inmates hovered over huge washing machines, filling some with orange uniforms and others with white garments. An occasional new item of underwear stood out like a snowflake in a pile of coal—the older items dimmed gray with use and washing.

Along the far wall, more inmates worked on a sorting line, accepting clean laundry from those on drying detail. Some women paired socks for distribution back to the inmates, while others folded uniforms and undergarments, placing them in stacks according to size. The operation duplicated the men’s facility, although, if the absence of bickering provided any indication, the women formed a much more productive team. The need for his presence surprised him.

Three female guards huddled in a corner and kept glimpsing in his direction. If they intended to keep their topic of conversation hidden, they failed. Feeling like an intruder in a foreign camp, a sense of vulnerability seized him and he felt naked before their secretive stares. The idea tugged his mouth into a smile. He stood with determined straightness. Let them look and enjoy the rare scenery.

High humidity created an airless vacuum, and Seth swiped his arm across his damp forehead. He scanned the room for Marie Collins. Finding her was easy. She stood among the dryers. His breath hitched at the startling resemblance between her and Carrie.

He strode in her direction, but stopped short when she ceased working and engaged in conversation with a dark-haired inmate. She hadn’t noticed him.

Seth sidled closer and leaned against an adjacent wall, out of sight. Near enough to hear what was said, he planted one boot sole against the wall in a casual stance and crossed his arms. He fixed his gaze on the room ahead, but tilted an ear toward Marie and her pal.

“Collins,” a hushed voice barely audible over the noise spoke. “Jet asked me to remind you of your debt. She’s moving forward with her plan, and once her cellmate has done her duty, she wants you to take her out.”

Seth peeked around the corner in time to see Marie nod then dip down and grab an armful from a dryer.

He shuddered. The person he cared for had a big X on her back. If he stepped in now and accosted both inmates, it would be their word against his. He had no proof of the plot they brewed against Carrie. “Shit!” he muttered and lowered his boot to the floor in thudding anger. He knew absolutely nothing about this Jet person aside from what he’d heard from Carrie.

Fighting the desire to confront the women and shake more information from them, Seth took a breath and decided to bide his time. How would they “take her out”? She and Collins didn’t share a common area, but that could change. Who knew about the plan besides these two? Stumbling upon this much information on the first day was more than he anticipated. He’d just be patient, watch and listen.

Something grabbed his attention. Two women across the room stood toe-to-toe, their voices elevated above the din of the machines. Seth strode over and pulled them apart. After his admonishment, they returned to their duties. He shook his head as he returned to his self-appointed post. Working with females was a piece of cake compared to what he’d been through on the other side. Still, the female guards avoided him like he had the plague. No wonder they needed help; they were too wrapped up in their own conversations to be bothered with watching their charges.

The dark-haired inmate and Marie Collins didn’t share another word during his entire shift. Time dragged by, and he grimaced as the two joined in the line of inmates being led from the room by the matrons. The lack of friendliness from his co-workers hadn’t changed one iota.

With the room empty, he meandered over to the sorting table and perused the unfinished stacks. He’d forgotten to write down Carrie’s inmate number so he had no way from looking at the laundry bags which clothing belonged to her. His jaw tensed at the mess the women left behind, but he made one final check of the premises before leaving the room. The cell roster in the dayroom contained the number he needed.

* * * * *

“Thank you.” Carrie accepted her clean clothing from an inmate assigned to the laundry detail.

Dark circles ringed the woman’s eyes and her hair hung in limp ringlets alongside her oval face. She flashed a weak smile as she handed Jet her uniforms then pushed her cart on to the next cell. If the worker noticed a resemblance between Carrie and anyone else in the joint, she didn’t react.

While stuffing her folded uniform into her fresh laundry bag, Carrie noticed a slip of paper protruding from a sleeve. Her brow raised, she stood at the foot of the bunk and unfolded the crumpled piece. With widened eyes, she stared at the words written on the lined sheet: Watch your back.

“Whadda ya got there?” Jet’s voice caused Carrie to jump.

“Uh, nothing.” She grinned into the darkness of Jet’s bottom bunk, turned away and stuffed the note in her pocket then resumed putting her clothes away. Her mind spun. Who would send such a warning? Someone who knew Jet’s plan to involve her in a scheme? Or, had her cellmate made a public threat against her? The hair on the back of Carrie’s neck stood on end.

Jet crawled to the end of her mattress. “You look a little stunned. Are you sure you aren’t hiding something from me?”

Forcing a laugh, Carrie flung her bag onto her bed and scaled the metal frame. Then, feigning calmness she didn’t feel, she swallowed the tremble in her voice. “What could I possibly hide from you? You know everything that goes on in this place.” Her heart thudded like a drum.

“You’re right, I do. But, your suspicious actions piqued my interest. What’s that you crammed in your pants pocket?” Jet’s voice indicated she was still on the bottom bunk.

Barely moving so as not to sway the frame, Carrie inched out the note and slipped it beneath her blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She hoped she sounded convincing, but a lump formed in her throat as she waited for Jet to demand an inspection.

“Guess my eyes were playing tricks on me.” The sound of turning pages indicated Jet had gone back to reading.

Carrie released her pent up breath, reclined, and plumping her pillow, closed her eyes. Being cellmates with Jet was never dull—scary, but not dull.

* * * * *

“Susanna, I received the strangest note.” Carrie hunched over the rec room table.

“From who?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. It came with my laundry and told me to watch my back.”

Susanna grasped her chin and shook her head. “That is strange.” She reached across the table and rested her hand atop Carrie’s. “You can’t disregard it. Someone is trying to warn you you’re in danger.”

Aware that Jet might be watching, Carrie snatched her hand away and sat straighter. A hushed chuckle brewed in her throat and rushed out. She lifted her chin and stared at the ceiling. “Like I didn’t know I’m up to my hips in shit.” She took a deep breath and looked at Susanna. “I can’t share details with you, but I’m caught in one of Jet’s vicious plots. If I don’t do what she asks, then I’m a goner. I already know that.” She made another casual scan of the room then stared into her lap. “What puzzles me about this whole mess is who else knows? And why?”

“I can tell you’re afraid Jet will see you talking to me. Am I involved?” Susanna shuffled cards and dealt out a hand of solitaire.

Carrie stood. “I can’t discuss it… at least now.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m going to watch TV and try to forget where I am. Don’t worry, I’ll always have your back.”

Chapter Twenty

Susanna stared at the cards dealt out in front of her. With one swipe, she destroyed the stacks, scattering them all over the tabletop and floor. “Goddamn Jet!” she muttered, as she leaned to retrieve those strays within her reach. “We’ve gotta stop that woman.”

Franny walked over from the library cart, stooped and picked up the remaining few cards. She tossed them atop the rest and raised a brow. “What’s got your hackles up?”

Chewing her bottom lip, Susanna splayed her fingers through her hair. “Get the others together. We need to have a meeting. Now!”

Wagging a summoning finger to the gals seated around a board game, Franny caught the attention of the rest, and Di, Celia, Helen, and Ruthie came to Susanna’s table and sat.

“What’s up?” Franny remained standing, her arms crossed.

Susanna exhaled with a loud sigh. “We have a real problem.”

“Let me guess.” Di said. “Jet?” Her curly, red hair bobbed with the movement of her head.

Susanna nodded. “I don’t know the whole story, but the bitch is brewing up some sort of plot that puts Lang in jeopardy. From the icy stares she’s been throwing my way, I have a sneaking suspicion her plan something to do with me.” She scrubbed her hands down her face. “Call me crazy, but I just have a sick feeling I’m involved somehow.”

Helen’s eyes widened. “Sus, what could Jet possibly have against you?”

“Yeah, what did you ever do to her?” Celia leaned back and scratched her over-sized stomach.

Ruthie grinned and patted her side. “You don’t have to do much to piss her off. I hope you excuse me from whatever you cook up, because I’m sure as hell not gonna mess with her again.”

Susanna’s gaze wandered to the worn easy chair in front of the television where Carrie’s head barely showed over the high back. Turning her attention to the group, Susanna squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. “Carrie Lang is our friend, and we have to band together to keep her safe. We all know the guards are no help against Jet, so we have to take matters into our own hands.”

Franny scooted onto the bench next to Di. Her throat bobbed with a swallow. “What can we do? Carrie shares a cell with Jet. The bitch can get to her anytime she wants.”

Susanna shook her head. “Won’t happen. Jet doesn’t have the guts to handle anything herself. She caught some flack over attacking Ruthie and since then, she’s been careful not to ruffle the feathers of the old hens who watch over her. She’s using someone else, and we have to find out who before that person makes a move.”