by J. D. Sloane
Nolan raised his brows as a guard behind him flashed his badge at someone and then passed through another doorway.
“That’s pretty bold. Is that typical around here?”
“Not until lately. This whole prison has been dry as a desert for weeks now. We sort of expect a certain amount a backlash from this end if you know what I mean.”
“Dry? You mean as in drugs?”
“Drugs, yeah,” the guard said typing at his computer slowly as he glanced around the room. “But more than that. Think all contraband. I’ve worked in three prisons before this one and this is the driest I’ve ever seen it. Nothing’s getting through, and I mean nothing. The warden pretends to be pleased but he really doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s like every life line these men had to the outside vanished overnight.”
Nolan’s brow furrowed as the older guard nodded to him and then pointed to the door as a loud buzzer went off above them.
“Just follow the signs around,” he said, glancing towards the next group of visitors. “You can’t miss it.”
Nolan stepped through the door way and glanced down the hall as the steel door whispered shut behind him, the entire area dropping into a sudden, eerie hush. He followed the arrow signs to his right, glancing at the long row of dark windowed offices greeting him on both sides and then paused as a large guard at the end of the corridor nodded to him and hooked his thumb towards an open door behind him.
“Visitor?”
“More or less.”
“Go on in. They’re letting them through now.”
Nolan walked into the visitor’s hall, the long line of plexiglass phone booths making his stomach turn in spite of himself. He stepped into the room, hearing the shallow shuffle of footsteps behind him and looked towards the gatekeeper at the end of the room, casually patting down an inmate before waving him through. He stepped aside as a woman with a child in her arms brushed passed him and heard a low rush of white noise rise up around him in a wave as Ronan White stepped into the light, his dark eyes sweeping across the room restlessly before locking on him like the sights of a gun.
Nolan grimaced as Ronan turned his head to look at him and felt his fist clench at his side, the cool, amused violence in his eyes as vital now as he remembered it over 11 months ago. And then in county. And then at trial. Nolan watched Ronan walk to the end of the row, waving towards the booth in front of him with the air of a gracious host and felt a petty thrill of vengeance as he sat down, noticing the quick, involuntary scowl Ronan gave him before smoothing the expression out into one of amused disinterest.
But you can’t quite keep it out of your eyes, can you? He thought, looking him over as Ronan took a seat, his angular jaw rolling slightly as if biting back a grin. No, not anymore. And not when it’s me. Not when it’s someone who actually knows you and has seen every inhuman thing you’re capable of doing.
He looked thinner than he remembered him, thinner in a way that made him more attractive and not less and Nolan bit back a sneer as Ronan started to whistle, drumming his fingers on the desk in front of him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. For one thing it looked as if he wasn’t sleeping much, and that dark hollowed out look only seemed to emphasize the magnetism of his eyes, eyes that seemed to shift with movement even when they were perfectly still, like some mad carnival ride through hell that never, ever quit.
Nolan felt his shoulders stiffen as he thought of Alicia, the young reporter who had threatened to turn his life inside out with a look of violent glee stamped across her sweet, sorority girl’s face and watched Ronan glance around the room, thinking that of all the mistakes he’d ever made, there wasn’t one he regretted more than letting this son of a bitch go on breathing the moment they took him into custody.
It’s like he’s carrying around some sort of a virus and infects everyone he comes in contact with, he thought, gritting his teeth. Everyone, that is, except for people like me. People who have been fighting that virus for most of our lives and have been inadvertently inoculated against his strain of crazy.
Ronan tilted his head at him, his long dark blond hair brushing across the deep river of scars lining the left side of his face and then picked up the receiver, the ghost of a smile touching his lips as he turned his dark eyes in Nolan’s direction.
“Hi there, Chief. Miss me already?”
Nolan felt his insides clench as Ronan’s low gravelly voice filled the receiver and felt the sudden urge to stand up and walk out, knowing on some level deeper than reason that it would be the only effective way to upset him, the one thing Ronan wouldn’t be able to control and would never quite accept. His hand clenched around the phone hard enough to bruise and he felt his face work slightly as he thought of Brooke, always Brooke. Who she had been. What he had taken from her.
Ronan raised his brows as Nolan felt his hand shake and then sighed loudly as he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, snapping his fingers towards Nolan’s side of the glass.
“What’s the matter, Nolan? Nothing to say? Just taking a stroll down good old memory lane?”
Ronan slid forward in his seat and shifted his receiver from one ear to the other as he turned the full force of his attention in Nolan’s direction, his dark eyes twirling so wildly it was a little like staring into the dark current of an undertow.
“I hear that happens sometimes, after retirement. I bet it starts with the little things. All those laws you believed in. The things you were willing to give your life for. Out here in the real world they all kind of blend together, don’t they? Just one long blur of gray right into the grave.”
“Not quite there yet, Ronan,” Nolan said calmly, meeting his eyes through the thick glass as he adjusted his lenses with one hand. “I still see things pretty clearly. Clear enough to know that you’re exactly where you belong.”
“So the soldier stays a soldier until the bitter end, hmm? If you say so, Chief. And frankly I don’t really mind this place. You’d be surprised how distracting Wonderland can be. With the right blend of enticements.”
“Is that why you asked to be transferred up here? Because you liked it so much?”
Ronan paused, his eyes narrowing with amused curiosity and then cocked his head in Nolan’s direction as he made a casual gesture with one hand.
“Just having a little fun, Chief. That’s all. A change of scenery can be good for the soul. You should try it once in a while. I find that nothing clarifies the really important things in life quite so effectively as a fresh. Perspective.”
“Hmm. Fresh perspective. You mean like with this reporter? Alicia Gale?”
Nolan saw Ronan’s eyes flash with a delighted sort of malice and then shrugged nonchalantly as his expression became politely neutral again.
“Alicia who?”
You prick.
“Oh, I think you know who I mean.”
Ronan rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and then raised his brows, smirking slightly as Nolan’s jaw twitched.
“Ah. You must mean Channel Six’s diligent little debutante. I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted.”
“Oh really?” Nolan said, his voice thickening with contempt as he sat forward in his chair. “You didn’t send her to look me up? You didn’t tell her to find out about that night? About that lobby footage that you claim disappeared?”
Ronan whistled under his breath and then tapped his temple with one finger as he glanced over his shoulder.
“Not sure you have all your facts together on that, Chief. You might want to look into some crossword puzzles. Anything to keep all those pistons firing up there.”
Nolan looked over Ronan’s vicious, too handsome face and felt a sudden burst of rage plow through all of his higher social conditioning, wishing for one moment that there was nothing sitting between them but open air and he could finish the job someone had started so many years ago. Finally make him look like the monster he was.
“You sent her to me,” he
said, his voice pulsing with anger. “Because you think someone kidnapped Brooke. You think I looked over that lobby footage and I purposely buried it so that your celebrity lawyer couldn’t use it to confuse the jury. Isn’t that right?”
Nolan saw that involuntary flinch of hatred cross Ronan’s face again as he said Brooke’s name and pulled his keys out of his pocket, placing them on the table as Ronan tipped his eyes towards them. Nolan tapped the flash drive dangling from his keychain as Ronan’s eyes flew towards it like a shot and held it up slightly as he turned it towards the glass.
“So what do you think, Ronan? Did I do it? Is he on here? Do you think a guy like me could overlook his ethics just long enough to right a wrong the law could never touch?”
Ronan leaned forward, his face darkening with sudden rage and Nolan held his ground, a petty thrill of victory rushing through him as he watched Ronan struggle for control.
“Oh, let’s not travel too far down that road, shall we Chief?” he said, his voice so violent and cheerful it had almost rounded the corner back into friendly comradery. “We’ve known each other a little too long for that, haven’t we? And I know exactly where you check those good morals of yours at the door.”
Ronan leaned forward until his forehead almost touched the glass, his pale, ruined face twitching with anger.
“Now tell me where she’s at,” Ronan said, his dark eyes fluttering closed for a moment as his shoulders twitched. “Tell me where she’s at and I promise that family of yours will barely feel a thing. One time offer, though. Going once, going twice.”
“She’s dead, you son of bitch,” Nolan spat, his voice low and rough. “And you killed her. You did. I don’t care who’s on this footage. And he is on here, Ronan, make no mistake about that. Someone you knew cut her throat and bled her out in that warehouse like an animal. But you’re the one that’s responsible. You’re the one that did it to her. And I hope you spend every miserable moment of your life thinking about that, and everything else you stole from her…”
Nolan jumped backwards as Ronan let out an inarticulate scream of rage and flew at the glass in a sudden blur of motion, slamming the receiver against the plastic coating so savagely that the entire pane shivered outward. He blinked quickly as Ronan slammed the phone against the glass again then turned his head as three men rushed into the room, flanking Ronan from behind as someone hit an alarm.
“Where is she?” He yelled, his voice so guttural and hate-filled that it was barely recognizable as human speech.
Nolan took a step backwards as a guard came up beside him and threw his arm out as one of the guards on Ronan’s side reached for him with both hands. He flinched as Ronan threw his elbow backwards into his face, snapping it hard enough to draw blood and then picked up his chair and threw it at the pane of glass, his eyes fixed on Nolan’s face as a sudden spider web of cracks appeared across the middle.
“Step back, sir!” The guard shouted, pulling his radio off of his belt and Nolan’s eyes widened as two more guards ran into the room, surrounding Ronan in a rough semicircle as he turned on them, pointing to the men on his right as he tracked the largest guard like a predator. Nolan’s brow furrowed as he saw Ronan say something to the prisoners behind them, the thick glass blurring it into an unintelligible garble and gritted his teeth as he saw the largest guard hesitate, reaching for something on his belt just as Ronan rushed him.
“For fuck’s sake!” Nolan said, rushing towards the glass as Ronan punched the guard in the face and then jerked the steel club out of his hand, smashing him across the bridge of his nose as the entire group fell backwards, stepping together in a sudden huddle as if trying to ward off some kind of rabid dog.
“Someone taz him! He’s going to start a fucking riot!”
Ronan turned his head, his eyes locking on Nolan long enough for his stomach to curl and then ran towards the window, speaking into the drilled holes of the safety glass as he shifted his face around the cracked web at the center.
“You’re going to regret not taking my offer, Chief,” he said, his voice so low and savage it came out sounding like a caress. “But I think your family will regret it even more. I hear your daughter actually followed in your footsteps, didn’t she? Another good little soldier doing her part for the public good.”
Nolan flinched as Ronan smashed the club into the glass in one violent downward swing, the wild, open hatred in his face twisting his features until they were almost unrecognizable. He felt himself jostled backwards as someone grabbed Ronan around the throat and balled his fists as he watched them drag him to the floor, his body hitting the tile with an unhealthy crack. Nolan turned his head as the circle of guards closed around him and felt a jolt of chills roll up his spine as Ronan laughed, shooting his arm forward like a piston as another guard began to scream. He heard the sound echo around the walls, filling up all the empty space of the visitor’s hall like an open charge and then stepped forward as it broke off all at once, watching Ronan’s entire body go slack as someone slammed a syringe into the thick muscle of his thigh.
Alicia walked through the door of Matt’s apartment, flipping on lights to the dining room as she slid out of her black heels with one hand pressed against the wall. She glanced at the clock, shrugging off her leather jacket as she realized that it was well after 7 o’clock and then hung it on the hook next to the mirror, twisting her hair around one hand as she felt around on the side table for a barrette.
Emilio better know what he’s talking about, she thought opening the metal clasp with her teeth as she tucked her hair up into a quick French twist and brushed her bangs away from her eyes. Otherwise this story is going to go sideways fast. If there’s some record of this guy, some footage Nolan didn’t catch, I can at least make the case for some very shoddy police work. Otherwise it’s just Ronan’s word against a landside of hard evidence and the fear and hatred of almost every citizen in this city.
She paused for moment as she stood in front of the French doors leading to the dining room and then threw them open, her gold eyes rolling across the windows above the table.
Well, maybe not every citizen, she thought as she set her bag down in the center of the table and then pulled out a stack of folders as she checked her phone. Maybe just the decent, well-meaning ones.
Alicia scrolled through her phone, frowning as she realized that Emilio hadn’t contacted her back about the security footage and leaned over the screen, tapping an impatient message as her eyes narrowed.
Need tonight. Same place.
Alicia looked at the text, wondering what Emilio’s wife would think about that cryptic little note if she decided to play private detective and then scratched the back of her head as she reached for her box of session tapes, her mind becoming a sudden hit list of activities.
If he’s on that footage, hell if anyone’s on it that even resembles the man Ronan was referring to, it won’t matter what Nolan has to say about it. If I can track down even one of Dula’s former inmates, we just run with that angle until it quits. Madness, mayhem and a corrupt police force. Shit! The copy practically writes itself.
She tapped her lips, following the reflection of the modern glass chandelier in the windows above her, each lamp shimmering against the darkness like a strange new constellation rising above the city.
And I’ll be the one who did it, she thought, stepping closer to the windows without realizing it. I’ll be the one who broke the story. When this thing jumps to the next level, I’ll be right at the center of it because I was the one he talked to. I was the one he chose.
Alicia closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to enjoy the brief unexpected fantasy of surpassing one’s wildest career expectations by leaps and bounds and felt her stomach flip as she thought of the way Ronan would look at her when she told him, his dark eyes twirling with hungry surprise as she leaned over his shoulder.
You might even get out, she would whisper letting her long hair slide across his co
llarbone as he traced the line of her lips with that perfect storm of rage and want. Who knows, Mr. White? Things can go so many different ways at a trial. So many pleasant. Easy. Ways.
“Lost in thought?”
Alicia whirled around as Matt spoke up behind her and blushed as he stared at her from the darkness of the living room, his face a vague collection of shapes as he shifted on the couch.
“Isn’t that a little cliché?” he asked, his voice slurring slightly as he raised a bottle to his lips.
Matt took a long drink before setting his beer down on the end table in front of him and Alicia felt a wave of exhaustion roll through her as she realized that several papers were scattered on the floor in front of him, the argument they’d had the morning before reeling through her mind in all of its random, ugly splendor. She took a step closer as Matt leaned forward, looking up at her with a sullen rage that she knew meant he had been drinking alone for hours and was now angling for a fight. She bit back an annoyed sigh, reminding herself not to glance at the clock and then stepped into the living room, knowing how much work she had ahead of her and how little she wanted to waste the evening smoothing over of a fight she should’ve seen coming for weeks.
“Matt?” She asked, careful to keep her voice light and unaccusing. “Why are you sitting here in the dark? Put on the light.”
Matt blinked up at her without moving and then reached for his beer, his face twitching with anger as he met her eyes over the bottle.
“Are you drunk?” She asked, raising her brows at him as his blue eyes shifted over her a way she didn’t like or understand.
“What do you think?” He asked, his voice low and irritable as Alicia sank into the plush chair across from him and sighed, rolling her head against the cushion.
“Fine. Have it your way. It’s nicer in here without the lights.”
“Oh. Think so?”
“Yeah. I do.”