Inside b-1

by Brenda Novak

“Just confirming a few things before we go any further.”

  “You don’t think it’s a little too soon?”

  “Given your projected life span? We have to keep things moving.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

  “I want kids. But if it doesn’t work out, we’ll have each other.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He fell silent again but continued to stroke her hair. Then he said, “Do you know if Laurel’s okay?”

  “I’m positive she’s fine, but I’ll check on her in the morning, just to be safe. She called me earlier.”

  “How?” “Wallace.”

  “He gave her your number?”

  “She insisted on getting some word about your welfare.”

  “Still, what a bastard. I told him she wasn’t supposed to have any information.”

  Clearly Rick had been exasperated and hadn’t wanted to deal with her. And there was his divorce, which seemed to be making life difficult for him. But…it was almost as if Rick knew Operation Inside was coming to a close before they did. “Laurel’s missing you. She told me to tell you she loves you,” Peyton said.

  “I’ll be glad when I don’t have to worry about her anymore. What happened to Buzz?”

  “He’s in the SHU. So are his friends. They’ll all be charged with attempted murder.”

  “He can kiss his parole goodbye.”

  “At least he gets to be just like his hero.”

  “Detric Whitehead?”

  “Who else?”

  He toyed with her fingers. “What about the C.O.?”

  “John Hutchinson? He’s here in the hospital, in even worse shape than you are. Last I heard, they were still fighting to save his life.”

  His eyes closed briefly, then reopened. He was too tired, too sick for this, and yet he kept talking. “He’s dirty. You know that, right?”

  She’d suspected it. Shortly after she’d arrived at the hospital, she’d received a call from Rosenburg who was investigating the latest incident in the dining hall. He said the C.O.s who were there when it happened, especially one named Greg Mortenson, felt there might’ve been some deal between Hutchinson and the HF that’d facilitated the whole thing. “I’ll look into it. He certainly won’t be working at the prison anymore. But whether or not he becomes an inmate will depend on what we can prove.”

  “He set me up.”

  She should’ve had John fired when everything didn’t add up the last time he’d caused trouble. She’d been trying to give him the benefit of every doubt. And she’d had the warden taking his side, too. But he could’ve cost Virgil his life. “Then you’ll testify against him. If he survives.”

  “I—”

  “That’s enough talking for now. Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right here.”

  He couldn’t seem to rest; he was too intent on making sure she heard what he had to say. “He can tell us who killed the judge, Peyton.”

  She sat up. “How do you know?”

  “He said something about it when he assumed I wouldn’t live long enough to share the information.”

  John… The thought of what he’d done disgusted her. What a hypocrite! She’d expected so much more from him. “I’ll make the police aware of it. If I know John, he’ll be willing to cough up any information he has if it means they’ll go easier on him as a result.” She gave Virgil’s hand a squeeze. “Come on, now, get some rest.”

  “Wait, there’s one more thing…”

  “Nothing matters more than you taking it easy.”

  “But I don’t understand how it happened. One minute, I could feel that everything was, for the most part, okay. Buzz was still trying to recruit me. The HF seemed tentatively open to the idea. And then, suddenly, it was as if a cold front had moved in.”

  “It was The Crew,” she explained. “Somehow they found out where you were and paid a visit to Detric Whitehead to alert him.”

  “How?”

  She remembered his friend, Rex McCready, who’d called so many times, trying to warn them. But she didn’t mention him. Virgil was already too riled up. He was even trying to sit when he needed to let his body heal.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, pressing him back.

  “If The Crew knows where I’m at, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “But you can’t leave—you’ll die!”

  He grabbed her arms. “You don’t understand. They won’t quit, Peyton. It’s a matter of pride for them. Their leader, Shady, has always felt threatened by me. He’ll come after me again and again, to prove his superiority, if for no other reason. And if they know you’re with me, they’ll try to get to me through you.”

  Peyton thought about the cell phone Virgil had used to call her from inside Pelican Bay. It would be so easy for someone in the HF to use that phone or another one to contact Donald Mechem, the man who’d met with Detric Whitehead, and let him know that Virgil was out of prison and in the hospital. Maybe they’d already done that. And everyone knew she cared about Virgil beyond what she felt for any other inmate. She’d made that clear when he was lying on the floor of the dining hall. No doubt news of their relationship had spread through the entire prison by now. That was too juicy a rumor not to create a huge stir.

  “I’ll make sure the police post a guard at the door,” she said.

  Too ill to keep fighting with her, he slumped back. “Fine, but then you can’t leave my side. I’ve got to know where you are all the time, that you’re safe.”

  “I won’t leave,” she said. It was the only way to get him to relax. But she knew it was a promise she couldn’t keep. She couldn’t stop living her life. She had to go home, shower, change and go to work. And she had to do it just a few hours from now.

  31

  It was seven in the morning when Peyton’s cell phone went off, waking her from a deep sleep. Afraid the noise would disturb Virgil, she slipped past the two uniformed guards she’d called for three hours earlier, and answered. Rick Wallace. Finally. Her last attempt to contact him had been a text message telling him Virgil had been attacked—again.

  “Where’ve you been? I tried to reach you at least a dozen times yesterday,” she complained.

  “I’ve been busy. I’m going through a divorce, remember?”

  How could she forget? “Did you read my text? Operation Inside is over.”

  “I got it. That sucks.”

  “Virgil was attacked again,” she reiterated when he didn’t ask after their “informant’s” welfare.

  “Is he okay?”

  He didn’t seem to care one way or the other. “Barely.”

  “Shit happens, I guess. It’s not like anyone was to blame.”

  There was definitely someone to blame. The HF, The Crew and whoever had given them information. And shit happens? Virgil had almost died. Not only that, Wallace was the one who’d pushed so hard for this. She hadn’t even told him John Hutchinson had information on the judge’s murder and that, provided he’d talk, the whole thing might not have been a complete waste, and yet he was shrugging it off?

  “You’re acting…unlike your usual self,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve told you. I’m going through a divorce! Anyone would be acting unlike themselves. Divorces aren’t any fun, in case you haven’t heard.”

  Neither was being attacked, but his problems were always worse than anyone else’s.

  She stepped aside to allow a nurse to hustle past her. “I suppose. But we can’t wash our hands of this quite yet.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think we have an informant in the department.”

  Silence. Then, “No…”

  “Yes! How else did The Crew manage to keep stride with us? Someone’s been talking.”

  “Maybe so. But there’s no way we’ll ever be able to prove it.”

  “How do you know? Just because it might be tough doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Whoever gave Virgil up has blood on his or her hands.�
�

  “Don’t be melodramatic, Peyton. There are a lot of ways The Crew could’ve found him.”

  “Without inside information? Name one.”

  “I don’t know! They have a huge network.”

  “Well, whoever’s helping them has caused a real problem. Now that they know where Virgil is, they won’t back off.”

  “Then he needs to get the hell out of town.”

  As much as Peyton didn’t want to see Virgil go, Rick’s suggestion was the safest alternative. “He needs to go into the program as soon as possible,” she agreed. Once he was well enough to travel, anyway. But what would they do to keep him safe until then? She didn’t want to think about how easy it would be for someone with a gun to come into the hospital and shoot up the place. Neither did she want to consider what WITSEC for Virgil would mean for her.

  “I’ll set it up as soon as his doctor gives the okay,” Rick said.

  “Have everything ready before then.”

  “I think I know how to do my job,” he snapped, and hung up.

  He didn’t like the fact that she was so concerned about Virgil. But his lack of concern bothered her just as much. Shit happens… That was easy to say when it happened to someone else!

  Going back into Virgil’s room, she retrieved her purse while he continued to sleep. Then she blew him a kiss and hurried out again. It was time to get ready for work. She couldn’t leave everyone in the lurch by not showing up.

  “I can’t believe it!” Shady cried. “How’d they miss him? It was three on one, they had the help of a stupid HACK, and they still couldn’t get the job done? Who said the HF are bad? They’re pussies—that’s what they are!”

  Don motioned for him to keep his voice down. They were walking down the pier, next to a string of boats bobbing in the water. For the most part they were alone because it was cold, even at midday. But there were a few people up by the tackle shop who might be able to overhear. “Calm down, man. He’s a lot sharper than the average con.”

  Shady had his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans and was stalking toward the end of the pier, but at this he pivoted and came back toward Meeks, who’d been trailing after him. “Don’t say that shit to me! This guy isn’t any better than we are. He’s a traitor. That’s what he is. And for that I’m gonna gut him.”

  Still worried about attracting attention, Meeks glanced behind them. “We’ll have our chance, huh? But you really got to calm down. All that speed you been doin’ has you messed up, man. You should sleep. We’d be smart to have some patience.”

  “Patience, my ass. This is gonna happen, and it’s gonna happen soon. I didn’t drive all the way up to seacoast Siberia just to turn around and head home. You hear me? I didn’t spend all of last night sleeping in my truck just so I could crawl back to L.A. with my tail between my legs. What would I tell Horse and everyone when we got back?”

  “That it’s not over, because it isn’t.”

  Shady shook his head. “No, they’re waiting to hear that I got the job done, and that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. I won’t let Skin make me look like a fool to my own men.” Swinging back around, he braced against the salt air sweeping in off the sea and started toward the water again. He had too much anger and adrenaline flowing through him to stay put. He knew his agitation would be apparent to anyone who saw him, so he was trying to keep his distance from others, but it wasn’t easy to go unnoticed in this place. They didn’t fit in with all the clean-cut correctional officers, retired loggers, hopeful shopkeepers and Obama-loving artisans.

  “I think you’re taking this too personal, Shade,” Meeks warned. “And it’s gonna get your ass in trouble.”

  “Don’t tell me my business!”

  Meeks raised his hand in a placating gesture. “I’ve been down this road before, bro. You need to listen.”

  “You’ve been out of the race too long, that’s all. You’ve lost your edge. I’m tellin’ you I’m not leavin’ here until Skin is six feet under.”

  Meeks’s jaw tightened at the disregard Shady showed for his advice, but Shady was so worked up he didn’t care. He hadn’t slept more than a few winks in three days but the drugs made him feel powerful. Fearless. He was powerful. And while he felt no fear, he’d dare anything.

  “You’re acting crazy.”

  “Maybe I am crazy!” Spittle sprayed from his mouth but he didn’t wipe it off. “Virgil Skinner’s laughing his ass off right now because he’s making us all look like idiots. We have an entire gang against him—two gangs—and we haven’t been able to touch him.”

  Meeks nudged a fallen leaf into the water with his foot. “I don’t think Skin’s laughing. The HF dude who called me said he didn’t look too good when they carted him away. He’s in the hospital. That tells us something.”

  “They’ll bring him back from the brink if we let them. We gotta take him out while he’s weak.”

  “And how do you suggest we do that, tough guy? They have armed guards at his door! I saw them myself when I tried to get in there this morning.”

  “There has to be a way to reach him,” he fumed. “We’ve got nothin’ so far. Thanks to Pretty Boy and what he did in Gunnison, we’ve got less than nothin’.”

  Meeks’s cell phone rang. Eyebrows rumpled in frustration, he pulled it from his pocket. “’Lo?” Head down, he began to walk away. Shady got the impression he’d walk all the way to L.A. if he could. But he wasn’t getting out of this. He’d wanted to be a part of it; he’d follow through or suffer the same fate Shady had in store for Virgil.

  “Who told you that?” Meeks said. “When?…No kidding…. What does she drive?…When does she usually leave?…Right. We’re on it.”

  “Who was that?” Shady asked once he’d ended the call.

  “A messenger from the Hells Fury.”

  “What do they want with us now?”

  “They want Skin as much as we do.”

  “They should. So what’d they have to say?”

  Meeks slid his phone back into his pocket. “You’re determined to find a way to hurt Skin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Now we’ve got it.”

  Shady felt cautiously hopeful. “Through a woman?”

  “The chief deputy warden herself.”

  “No…” He couldn’t believe it. Someone like that would be too far up the food chain to take any interest in a con. Except that Virgil didn’t look like the average criminal and technically wasn’t one. He’d switched sides. And he’d always had a way of making people admire him….

  “How’d he meet her?” he asked skeptically.

  “Who knows? Probably through whatever deal he did with the CDC. The warden and maybe a few others would’ve had to be involved, right?”

  “But he’s only been here a week or so.”

  “Maybe she’s butt-ugly and he was desperate, but there are rumors going around that she was crying when he got hurt. And before that, she asked a C.O. to leave them alone in an office. Those rumors have to be based on something.”

  Or not. As far as Shady was concerned, it was a long shot. How much could Virgil care about this woman if he’d just met her?

  But killing her would let Skin know they wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t go away. And they had nothing better to do while they waited for the opportunity to get to him. “How do we find her?”

  “There’s only one road leading in and out of that prison. We watch for a white Volvo SUV with a woman behind the wheel to drive by and then we follow her home.”

  At last. Something they could do that would siphon off some of his anxiety. “Then let’s go.”

  As soon as they climbed into the truck, Shady crushed another meth crystal and snorted it. He preferred to be flying high when he met the chief deputy warden. He’d never done a woman before, not like he was going to do this one.

  He wanted his encounter with her to leave an impression that Virgil would never forget.

  It’d been a difficult day, one in which Peyton
didn’t accomplish nearly as much as she normally did. Her time was taken up with putting to rest everything that’d happened during the past week. She’d spent an hour first thing with the warden and Investigator Rosenburg going over every detail of the dining hall incident, what John Hutchinson might know about Judge Garcia and how they were going to get Virgil out of Crescent City. After that they’d had a conference call, including Rick Wallace, to confirm their plans for Virgil to go into WITSEC and to talk about the leak, but that hadn’t lasted long. Once again, Rick had acted distracted and eager to get off the phone. Only at her insistence did he stay on so they could call Laurel as a group and let her know the situation.

  Like Peyton, Laurel was relieved that Virgil was out of the prison mostly in one piece. At least, she sounded that way. Probably because if he healed as well as expected, she might get to see him soon. Peyton was now confident he would heal. Her discussions with his doctor, at noon and again at three, had reassured her. She’d been told he was responding very quickly to the antibiotics. He should be fine in a few days—provided they were able to keep The Crew and the Hells Fury away from him.

  If Virgil entered WITSEC, Peyton had no idea what it would mean for her. Despite her teasing about marriage, she didn’t know him well enough to make any permanent decisions. She needed to figure out what she was willing to sacrifice and what she wasn’t. And yet, if he moved on without her, she was quite certain that would be the end of their relationship. He’d experienced too many terrible things in his life to believe something as good as what they felt for each other could survive. She could easily see him treasuring their brief time and yet letting it go. He’d justify that in his own mind by saying he didn’t want to risk ruining the memories they’d created. There were so many questions that had to be answered. About her and Virgil. About her job, too. She’d confessed her involvement with Virgil to Fischer. The warden had been careful to reserve judgment, had merely told her to take the next two weeks off as paid vacation. He said she needed the rest. But she knew it was because he wanted some time to reflect on her behavior and decide whether or not it warranted a reprimand.

  And then there were the less personal questions, not the least of which was how The Crew had managed to find Virgil, especially so fast. No one was supposed to know where he was. Even Fischer hadn’t been told his real name and true background, not until today. There had to be someone inside the department who’d leaked the truth. How else would they have found him—and Laurel, too?