the end of their free time. Less than a minute later, Lester and Ricardo returned to the cell.
Lester had bunked with Harry for a couple of years. He was quiet most of the time, except when he stopped taking his meds and ran on the manic side of his personality. Like Harry, Lester was doing time for fraud. He’d been caught stealing the identity of unsuspecting small business owners and cleaning out their accounts. He wasn’t violent, which worked well with Harry.
Ricardo had joined their room only a few months earlier. He was built like a linebacker, so Harry kept his distance. The man said very little unless it was with his fist. Harry didn’t trust him and could only guess what he was in for. In the early days of Harry’s imprisonment, the violent felons weren’t kept in the same cell blocks with those like him. Budget cuts and a lack of state funding for the prison system forced all offenders in with each other.
Harry was no slouch. He stood at over six-feet tall and never missed a meal. He wasn’t a fool, however, and never thought for a minute he’d stand a chance in a fistfight with Ricardo.
“ Whatcha got, Harry?” Lester asked as he squeezed between the tiny space beside the bunks. “Oh, are those your girls?” Lester had seen other pictures and knew some of Harry’s story.
“ Yeah.”
“ The baby is getting big.”
Ricardo slid a glance over his shoulder and took in the page. “I thought your daughter was already married.”
“ She is.”
On the top of the page, the article said the couple was renewing their wedding vows. Harry pointed to the title and let the reporter’s words do the job of explaining what the picture depicted.
Ricardo started to turn away, and then stopped himself to take a closer look.
Harry felt the need to pull the paper aside but refrained himself.
“ Friends of the bride?” Ricardo asked, pointing to the others in the picture.
“ I guess,” Harry said, not knowing any of the people in the pictures personally. He recognized the names, but not the faces.
When Ricardo turned away, Harry carefully folded the paper and placed it in his stash with the others.
Chapter Ten
Carter was running on five hours sleep in the past three days. What he truly needed was a big bed and six hours of silence so his body could feel normal again.
That was asking too much.
He had two messages on his personal cell phone. One from Roger in New York telling him to call him back when he could manage a secure line, and the other from detective Dean asking for a few minutes of Carter’s time.
After a few frustrating attempts of connecting with his buddy on the East Coast, Carter gave up and drove himself to the police station where Dean and his partner James worked.
Although Carter attempted to avoid an audience by driving himself, as he walked into the police station several sets of eyes shifted his way.
Carter glanced over the heads in the room searching for one of the two cops he’d seen escort Eliza from the hotel a few short days ago.
“ Looking for someone in particular, counselor?”
Used to the title, Carter answered quickly. “Dean Brown?”
“ Down that hall. First door on the right.”
Carter nodded his thanks and walked past a few sets of eyes. Before he rounded the corner, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Impulse had him opening his messages. Blake’s name popped on the screen with a short note. We need to talk. Drinks tonight?
Carter sent a quick yes and a promise to call then slipped the phone back into his suit pocket.
The smaller office housed six desks and a handful of detectives. Dean and James were sitting across from each other at the far end of the room. Both of their heads snapped up when one of the other detectives greeted him. “I didn’t know we were on the campaign trail,” came one snarky comment, followed by a laugh.
“ I’m here to see—”
“ Billings,” Dean interrupted. “Nice of you to come.”
The
Lester had bunked with Harry for a couple of years. He was quiet most of the time, except when he stopped taking his meds and ran on the manic side of his personality. Like Harry, Lester was doing time for fraud. He’d been caught stealing the identity of unsuspecting small business owners and cleaning out their accounts. He wasn’t violent, which worked well with Harry.
Ricardo had joined their room only a few months earlier. He was built like a linebacker, so Harry kept his distance. The man said very little unless it was with his fist. Harry didn’t trust him and could only guess what he was in for. In the early days of Harry’s imprisonment, the violent felons weren’t kept in the same cell blocks with those like him. Budget cuts and a lack of state funding for the prison system forced all offenders in with each other.
Harry was no slouch. He stood at over six-feet tall and never missed a meal. He wasn’t a fool, however, and never thought for a minute he’d stand a chance in a fistfight with Ricardo.
“ Whatcha got, Harry?” Lester asked as he squeezed between the tiny space beside the bunks. “Oh, are those your girls?” Lester had seen other pictures and knew some of Harry’s story.
“ Yeah.”
“ The baby is getting big.”
Ricardo slid a glance over his shoulder and took in the page. “I thought your daughter was already married.”
“ She is.”
On the top of the page, the article said the couple was renewing their wedding vows. Harry pointed to the title and let the reporter’s words do the job of explaining what the picture depicted.
Ricardo started to turn away, and then stopped himself to take a closer look.
Harry felt the need to pull the paper aside but refrained himself.
“ Friends of the bride?” Ricardo asked, pointing to the others in the picture.
“ I guess,” Harry said, not knowing any of the people in the pictures personally. He recognized the names, but not the faces.
When Ricardo turned away, Harry carefully folded the paper and placed it in his stash with the others.
Chapter Ten
Carter was running on five hours sleep in the past three days. What he truly needed was a big bed and six hours of silence so his body could feel normal again.
That was asking too much.
He had two messages on his personal cell phone. One from Roger in New York telling him to call him back when he could manage a secure line, and the other from detective Dean asking for a few minutes of Carter’s time.
After a few frustrating attempts of connecting with his buddy on the East Coast, Carter gave up and drove himself to the police station where Dean and his partner James worked.
Although Carter attempted to avoid an audience by driving himself, as he walked into the police station several sets of eyes shifted his way.
Carter glanced over the heads in the room searching for one of the two cops he’d seen escort Eliza from the hotel a few short days ago.
“ Looking for someone in particular, counselor?”
Used to the title, Carter answered quickly. “Dean Brown?”
“ Down that hall. First door on the right.”
Carter nodded his thanks and walked past a few sets of eyes. Before he rounded the corner, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Impulse had him opening his messages. Blake’s name popped on the screen with a short note. We need to talk. Drinks tonight?
Carter sent a quick yes and a promise to call then slipped the phone back into his suit pocket.
The smaller office housed six desks and a handful of detectives. Dean and James were sitting across from each other at the far end of the room. Both of their heads snapped up when one of the other detectives greeted him. “I didn’t know we were on the campaign trail,” came one snarky comment, followed by a laugh.
“ I’m here to see—”
“ Billings,” Dean interrupted. “Nice of you to come.”
The
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