Supervisory Special Agent Jack Harper.”
Jack reached for the envelope and ripped the edge where the prison had resealed it with their tape.
“You can’t do that—” Anita’s words stopped there.
Jack pulled out the contents. It was a photograph.
Anita looked from it to me. “I thought you looked familiar.”
CHAPTER 14
I lunged for the photo. “What the hell—”
Jack asked Anita, “Does the mail department wear gloves?”
“Yes, of course.”
Jack addressed Moore, “Do you have a plastic bag?”
The warden shook his head and lifted his shoulders. “Anita?”
“I can get you something.”
“How the hell did he get my picture, Jack?” I bumped his shoulder. “Let me see it.”
Jack’s eyes were saying, keep it cool. He held it out so I could look at it.
Strength left my legs, and I felt the color drain from my face. “That’s my Twitter account pic.”
“Why would Bingham be getting a picture of you?” Anita’s soft voice didn’t serve to calm me but had the opposite effect.
Our heads turned to face her. Jack stood. “We’re going to have to ask you to keep all of this confidential.”
“Sure.”
“And we need you to leave now.” He moved forward until she backed up into the hallway, and then he closed the warden’s office door.
“Where did it come from? Why me?” The Redeemer’s words kept replaying in my mind as a never-ending audio reel. Confess, repent and be forgiven. Don’t confess and be punished for your sins.
Jack dropped back into the chair he had been in before. “There’s no return address on the envelope but based on the date of the postmark it was mailed Monday, the same day as the find. How is it even possible that it made here that quickly?”
“He could have dropped it in a local delivery mailbox,” Moore said. “It’s a different box at the post office that allows for faster mail delivery.”
“It’s someone local!”
I was trained in the academy to remain calm under pressure but confronted with an issue like this it was too much. I knew I raised my voice. I knew it displeased Jack as evidenced by the sour expression on his face. His lips contorted almost as if he were biting the inside of the bottom one, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed and pointed.
Jack looked at the envelope. “It’s postmarked with zip 40360.”
“That’s Owingsville, not too far from here,” Moore said.
“Why was this piece of mail approved?” I asked the question of Moore.
“Maybe they assumed that it was a photograph of a family member.”
“Is the mailroom in a habit of assuming? And no return address? Shouldn’t that alone be enough to reject the mail?”
“I’m not sure what to say. Human error?”
“If anyone was aware of Bingham’s file, they’d know he doesn’t have any living relatives. The single photograph would have been deemed more suspicious, possibly even considered a threat of physical harm toward the person in the photo.”
“Our mailroom personnel can’t remember the background of every inmate. Again, I’m not—”
“Not sure what to say,” Jack intercepted and rose to his feet.
My attention stayed on the photograph. As we had discussed before, the pictures were not necessarily of his victims, but possible future targets. I swallowed hard.
Jack headed for the door and addressed Moore. “You let us know if he gets anything else. We’ll want to look at it first. Make sure he still has Internet use rights.”
“Course.”
“And we’re taking this with us.” Jack placed the photo back inside the envelope.
Minutes later we were in the SUV, and I turned to Jack. “The pics are not all trophies.”
He slipped a cigarette from the pack and lit up.
I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice as he inhaled deeply and exhaled, filling the car with white, polluted smoke. I reached over, turned the key in the ignition and put my window down. “Why do you have to smoke all the time?”
He tapped the ash in
Jack reached for the envelope and ripped the edge where the prison had resealed it with their tape.
“You can’t do that—” Anita’s words stopped there.
Jack pulled out the contents. It was a photograph.
Anita looked from it to me. “I thought you looked familiar.”
CHAPTER 14
I lunged for the photo. “What the hell—”
Jack asked Anita, “Does the mail department wear gloves?”
“Yes, of course.”
Jack addressed Moore, “Do you have a plastic bag?”
The warden shook his head and lifted his shoulders. “Anita?”
“I can get you something.”
“How the hell did he get my picture, Jack?” I bumped his shoulder. “Let me see it.”
Jack’s eyes were saying, keep it cool. He held it out so I could look at it.
Strength left my legs, and I felt the color drain from my face. “That’s my Twitter account pic.”
“Why would Bingham be getting a picture of you?” Anita’s soft voice didn’t serve to calm me but had the opposite effect.
Our heads turned to face her. Jack stood. “We’re going to have to ask you to keep all of this confidential.”
“Sure.”
“And we need you to leave now.” He moved forward until she backed up into the hallway, and then he closed the warden’s office door.
“Where did it come from? Why me?” The Redeemer’s words kept replaying in my mind as a never-ending audio reel. Confess, repent and be forgiven. Don’t confess and be punished for your sins.
Jack dropped back into the chair he had been in before. “There’s no return address on the envelope but based on the date of the postmark it was mailed Monday, the same day as the find. How is it even possible that it made here that quickly?”
“He could have dropped it in a local delivery mailbox,” Moore said. “It’s a different box at the post office that allows for faster mail delivery.”
“It’s someone local!”
I was trained in the academy to remain calm under pressure but confronted with an issue like this it was too much. I knew I raised my voice. I knew it displeased Jack as evidenced by the sour expression on his face. His lips contorted almost as if he were biting the inside of the bottom one, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed and pointed.
Jack looked at the envelope. “It’s postmarked with zip 40360.”
“That’s Owingsville, not too far from here,” Moore said.
“Why was this piece of mail approved?” I asked the question of Moore.
“Maybe they assumed that it was a photograph of a family member.”
“Is the mailroom in a habit of assuming? And no return address? Shouldn’t that alone be enough to reject the mail?”
“I’m not sure what to say. Human error?”
“If anyone was aware of Bingham’s file, they’d know he doesn’t have any living relatives. The single photograph would have been deemed more suspicious, possibly even considered a threat of physical harm toward the person in the photo.”
“Our mailroom personnel can’t remember the background of every inmate. Again, I’m not—”
“Not sure what to say,” Jack intercepted and rose to his feet.
My attention stayed on the photograph. As we had discussed before, the pictures were not necessarily of his victims, but possible future targets. I swallowed hard.
Jack headed for the door and addressed Moore. “You let us know if he gets anything else. We’ll want to look at it first. Make sure he still has Internet use rights.”
“Course.”
“And we’re taking this with us.” Jack placed the photo back inside the envelope.
Minutes later we were in the SUV, and I turned to Jack. “The pics are not all trophies.”
He slipped a cigarette from the pack and lit up.
I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice as he inhaled deeply and exhaled, filling the car with white, polluted smoke. I reached over, turned the key in the ignition and put my window down. “Why do you have to smoke all the time?”
He tapped the ash in
Similar Books
