by Simon King
As Tim watched, he saw the officer beckon to Dewey, then slowly lead him back through the unit and out through the second exit, the one reserved for emergencies. Tim half expected the alarm the door was supposed to trip, to begin wailing, but it remained silent as the pair disappeared out into the night.
Unsure of how long they would be gone for and with not a lot of other options open to him, Tim headed back to his bunk, climbed carefully up and lay face down with his head down the foot-end. This gave him a clear view out into the unit. He was curious to find out why Dewey would be removed.
It wasn’t uncommon for prisoners to summon staff for medical reasons; someone having chest pains, trouble breathing, or any other number of issues. But when that happened, the unit was usually lit up and a number of officers would attend, usually with a nurse in tow who would check the prisoner right in their cell. If they then needed to be transported to another location, the officers would either escort the man, or provide a stretcher and wheel him out.
Tim continued watching, letting his mind wander freely as he stood back and took note. His mind had a strange ability to play out scenarios, giving him an insight into various possibilities in any number of situations. And right now, he wondered whether Dewey was in danger.
“No way,” he thought to himself. “The day after a murder?” But his mind refused to let go, providing several outcomes, but none as obvious as murder.
Tim lay awake for almost two hours before his eyes began to feel heavy again. He initially tried to resist, but by four o’clock, he was slowly losing the will to fight. Better to get a few more moments of sleep while he could. Who knew what that day had in store.
It was yelling that woke Tim up, the screams reverberating around the confined space. He opened his eyes to find three or four inmates lined up at the window, each with their hands on the glass. It was Bevan that was banging on it, while screaming abuse at the guards out in the common area.
“Open the fucken door,” he yelled, but none of the guards looked to be paying attention. They were focused on a cell to Tim’s left, as he slowly began to link the morning to the previous night’s events.
“What’s going on?” Tim asked. Morty turned back and shook his head.
“They said they’re not unlocking yet. Someone apparently tried to escape last night.” Hearing this, Bevan started banging on the window for another round.
“I don’t give a fuck. Open the fucken door.”
Out in the unit, several other inmates also began yelling abuse, the tribal drums of window-bashing sounding like a backing track. Finally, one of the officers began walking towards the cell door, opened the trap and stood a little to the side, in case someone decided to launch something through the small gap.
“What’s going on, Boss?” Mort asked, the closest to the door.
“I know it’s a pain, but we’ve got orders to keep the unit locked down. Apparently someone got out of their cell last night and has gone wandering.”
“Who?” Morty asked, but that was as much information as the officer was willing to share. He closed the trap and returned to where the rest of his crew were waiting.
“FUCK!” Bevan screamed, giving the window a final kick, before heading back to his bunk. Tim remained where he was, missing his ear gear more than ever.
11
Sam was in the shower when her cell began to ring. She had planned to head in to work a little earlier than her usual starting time, keen to speak to someone she now considered a possible ally. But as she looked at her cell and saw Mumma’s smiling face staring back at her, she knew her morning was about to change drastically.
“Mumma?”
“There’s been another one.”
“What?” Sam said, genuinely shocked.
“They found a body in the gymnasium. Whatever is going on at that prison, it’s definitely not slowing down.”
“Alright. I’m on my way.”
Sam cancelled the call and cut her shower short. This time her intention wasn’t to snoop around, but instead to try and find an opportunity to talk with Henderson himself. She had no doubt that he would be at the prison, probably one of the first to be notified.
After grabbing her gear, Sam headed out, a little extra spring in her step as she hoped that things were finally starting to fall together. With any luck, Henderson would prove to be the piece they needed.
The reporters were again waiting for newly arriving staff by the front door and again, Sam managed to dodge their questions. Once inside, she was processed by the reception staff and quickly made her way into the airlock. After grabbing her keys and radio, she joined the queue to get into the prison.
She looked around for either Perkins or Henderson, but this time neither were there. It was just the usual compliment of officers, each keen to get to their unit and get through another painful shift.
As soon as she managed to get inside the prison, Sam made a beeline for the gymnasium, positive that would be the place to start. She walked with an air of urgency, her previous demeanor of a serial-killer hunter starting to make a return. With any luck, it wouldn’t be long until Harry Lightman himself could once again watch her feast.
There were dozens of officers standing around the gymnasium, with the body of Dewey Macintosh lying face-up on a weight-lifting bench. He’d been stabbed repeatedly in the chest, but that wasn’t what drew the most attention. His pants were slung down around his ankles, the man lying naked on his death bed.
The smell of blood hung heavy in the air and from the amount pooled beneath the body, Sam wondered if there was any still remaining in the man. But seeing the body was the least of her worries as the smell began to overtake her control. It filled her nostrils, Sam’s mouth beginning to salivate as she could almost taste it. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing.
“You OK?” someone said and Sam looked to see Donald standing beside her. “Surely not your first body.” Sam shook her head, trying her best to ignore the insatiable hunger.
“No, of course not. Just feeling off today.” Donald didn’t appear to believe her and slowly turned and went to a group of COs by the door.
Henderson was one of the front-line officers, standing over the body and speaking to one of the police officers already on the scene. He kept pointing up to where a camera was fixed to a wall, although it just happened to be pointing the other way. The bench poor Dewey was killed on, sat at one end of the gymnasium. The camera the two were discussing, was fixed to the wall, about halfway along. No other cameras existed.
The cop was shaking his head from side to side, clearly annoyed at the lack of surveillance in the building. Henderson, on the other hand, looked embarrassed. Sam watched them, blending into the crowd as best she could, feeling sorry for the man.
When Perkins finally showed up, Henderson took one look, shook his head and said something to the cop. The police officer looked behind him, saw Perkins, then shook hands with Henderson. As Perkins joined their group, Henderson simply turned and walked away.
Sam kept watch and slowly followed him as Henderson first stopped with one group of officers, then another. Once he’d given out the necessary instructions, he headed for the exit and left the building, with Sam following close behind.
As they walked down the almost-empty corridor, Sam decided that this would be the best time, if she was going to say anything at all. The man was angry, embarrassed and had just left his nemesis. To say his anger towards Perkins wasn’t piqued, would be an understatement.
“Captain?” Sam called out. Henderson slowed slightly and looked behind. He paused briefly when he saw her, looking confused as he struggled to find her name.
“I’m sorry, Miss Clark is it?” he said, once Sam was close enough for her name badge to be read. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
“I really need to talk to you.” She looked around and saw a door leading into one of the classes that normally run during the day. The door was locked and Sam knew the office wou
ld be empty. “Please, I won’t be long.” Without waiting for confirmation, she unsnapped her keys, fumbled through the bunch and found the right one.
“Miss, really.” Sam didn’t pause, quickly unlocking the door and pulling it open. She realized she had one shot at this, so decided to take a gamble. It was all she had and she needed to know.
“I know about the warden,” she whispered, staring straight at him. His face changed immediately from mild curiosity to sudden shock. “Please,” Sam repeated.
Henderson slowly began to walk towards the door, his eyes never leaving Sams. As he passed her and walked into the room, he snapped his gaze forward, walked into the middle of the room beyond and spun back around to face her.
“What do you mean you know about the warden?” he asked once the door was closed again. Sam took a step forward, took a deep breath and prepared to reveal her cards.
“Sir, I believe you know that the warden is mixed up with these murders.” She paused, waiting for a hint of response.
“What? Why would you…” he began, but Sam cut him off.
“I know you know and I also know that you think he’s probably somehow manipulating the prison’s security system to help him with these murders.” Henderson took a step back, shaking his head slightly, as if trying to stop her words. “I need your help, Sir.”
“Who are you?” He sounded more shocked than surprised, but Sam thought she saw a hint of recognition.
“First you tell me what you know. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Who are you?” he repeated.
“I work for an agency that investigates multiple-case homicides. My name is Samantha Rader.” She decided that in order to gain his trust, she would have to give him something in return. It seemed to work, as he slowly rubbed his forehead. “Please.”
“Yes,” he almost whispered. “But this is much bigger than the warden.”
“How much bigger?” Sam asked.
“Big enough to involve more than just the warden. I think he’s just the key to get in the front door.”
“What do you mean the front door?” Henderson looked behind Sam, towards the door, as if nervous.
“If anyone sees us…”
“Tell me,” Sam said, amplifying her voice. It was enough to regain his attention.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t really know how many. All I know for sure is that I started noticing things a few months ago. Strangers walking around, people Perkins knew. And then that whole building refurbishment started and the same people returned. They spent several months in that building and then all of a sudden, the murders began.”
“Does anyone know you suspect them?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with friendly vibes. But what I do know is that Perkins is doing his best to make sure that the security system in this jail remains as useless as it ever has. The man refuses to upgrade or fix any cameras, almost as if he prefers them not to work.” He looked behind her again, a light sweat breaking on his brow.
“What do you mean the key to the front door?”
“I once saw Perkins arguing with a man at a nearby Burger King. This was late last year. The pair were really getting into it, you know? Right out in the middle of this parking lot, with kids playing nearby and Mums walking past. I’ll never forget the guy he was arguing with. Big guy, huge. Would have to be at least 6-6. Tattoos down both arms, bald head, big goatee beard. I mean that bloke looked ready to kill. And he was right in Perkins’ face.”
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?” Henderson shook his head.
“Nah. I was just going through the drive through.”
“Did they see you?” Again, he shook his head.
“Never really thought about it again, you know? Months passed and I had all but forgotten about it. Then one day, the first work crew arrived for the refurb over in the old staff building and there he was, standing tall and happy as punch as he unloaded the first truck. William Tunney. And there was Perkins, standing right beside him, grinning as if he’d just won the lottery.”
Someone shouted something just outside the door and Henderson nearly jumped, his face looking flushed.
“We need to go,” he said, but Sam kept her cool.
“We need to meet outside. Tonight.” The man shook his head, for the first time looking genuinely afraid.
“Look, I don’t know who these people are, but I can’t risk being seen in a compromising situation. Not with another officer.”
“Yes. Tonight.” She thought quickly, then reached for her notepad and wrote down an address. “Meet me here at midnight.” He hesitated to take it and Sam thrust it forward. “Take it. I need to end this now.” He looked a little amused at that, the fear still evident.
“You? You’re going to end this?”
“Yes. Me.”
Once back out in the prison, Sam headed for her own unit, while Henderson headed for the front of the prison. She still had doubt about whether Henderson would actually show, but he’d certainly come through in other ways.
For the first time, Sam knew that Perkins was involved, but still didn’t know to what extent. Was he the killer? She didn’t think so, the man appearing much too weak. Sam wondered whether he’d have the strength to frighten small children, the kind of person that would jump at their own shadow.
Sam returned to the unit and immediately realized she needed to get out. There were too many chances of being detected and what she needed above all else, was to speak to Mumma. She needed the missing piece, the link that would bring everything together. And the main thing she needed was Tim out of jail.
After quietly sitting in the control room, she finally began to moan and hold her stomach. Steve, one of the other officers, looked at her.
“You don’t look so hot. You should go home.”
“I don’t feel so hot.” She went to the bathroom, removed her boots and began to sprint on the spot, not stopping again until she was well and truly puffed. The sweat was running from her and before it had a chance to evaporate, Sam returned to the control room.
“Oh shit, girl,” Sue Harvey, the supervisor, said when she saw her. “Get the hell out of here. I don’t wanna catch whatever you got.” Sam coughed, watched the others shrink back some and grabbed her things. Mission accomplished.
Back in her car, Sam didn’t waste time in phoning Mumma and filling her in. The woman on the other end listened intently, but Sam immediately felt something wrong. It was as if Mumma had something else on her mind.
“Are you OK?” she finally asked. The response she heard was not something she expected, as Mumma’s weeping came down the line.
“Mumma? What is it?”
“ Vic Horton was murdered a short time ago. He was shot dead while working the Black Death case.”
“Oh my God,” Sam heard herself say. “And Lorraine?”
“In the hospital. She has a bullet wound to the chest. Doctors have said it’s touch and go.”
“I’m so sorry.” Victor had been Mumma’s neighbor for years, a popular member of Pogrom. He had been in the warehouse when Fenton and Evelyn were killed, Tim telling Sam the story during a previous mission. “She’ll be alright, Mumma.”
Understanding that Mumma needed time, Sam ended the call and drove home in silence. She felt her anger build, and as she pulled the car into the parking lot, was gripping the steering wheel tight enough for her fingers to cramp.
It was the taste that returned, still feeling as fresh as when she had stood in the gymnasium. Sam parked the car and quickly jumped out, wondering if she still had Coke in the fridge. Just as she began to climb the stairs, a voice spoke from ahead of her.
“Holy shit. It’s the big, tough CO.” Sam paused, looked up and saw Gold Teeth from the store standing at the top of the stairs. Behind were the three others, all eyes fixed on her.
“Listen guys,” Sam began.
“Watcha doing all alone? You know, it’s not safe out here. Not
with big bad Nikkie and his friends, here.” They began to walk forward and Sam retreated, slowly walking back down the stairs. She could feel the familiar surge of adrenalin, but no the way most people did. The adrenalin drove her appetite, that animalistic need for blood, courtesy of old Harry Lightman himself. This was what she always imagined he felt, whenever he prepared to murder.
“Maybe Goldilocks here wants to play,” one of the others mocked, Gold Teeth cackling with delight.
Sam reached the bottom, took another couple of steps and stopped. She closed her eyes, desperate to keep her urge under control. The taste of blood filled her mouth, feeling like a craving unable to be satisfied.
“You need to leave,” Sam whispered and that’s when it happened, a voice in her mind as clear as her own.
“You don’t really want them to leave.” Despite recognizing the voice, Sam struggled to understand how she could be hearing it while awake. It was the voice of Harry Lightman, a voice she’d only ever heard during her dreams.
“Run,” Sam tried again, but the four men began surrounding her, looking at her like a wanted toy.
“Bitch, the only thing-“ and that was as far as Gold Teeth got. Before any of the others had a chance to react, Sam lunged at the surprised man, drove her fingers deep into his matted hair and took hold. Her teeth clamped onto his face and as the blood sprayed out, she heard the others gasp in surprise. Gold Teeth screamed in agony, tried to punch, but missed. Sam pushed back from him, shot her knee up and caught square in the balls.
As Gold Teeth slowly dropped to the ground with a neat hole in one cheek, one of the others stepped forward, while another circled around. The fourth took a final look at Gold Teeth and made the decision to split, possibly his wisest choice ever.
Sam waited until one of the remaining two made a move, then dropped to the ground before him with the fasted splits ever seen, swinging her fist at the second pair of balls of the day. She connected and before the unfortunate victim had a chance to drop, Sam rose back to her feet, spun around and brought her boot into the side of his face. The crunch of the nose breaking sounding like a tree branch snapping and it was enough for the third guy to part company.