Broken is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  Using his elbow, he nudged the water-spotted silver faucet handle at the kitchen sink.

  He scrubbed at the blood, getting the bulk of it off his skin, before using his forearm to turn the water off.

  As he patted his hands dry on the legs of his jeans, he surveyed the apartment. Had he touched anything?

  He mentally retraced his steps since arriving ten minutes earlier.

  No. He was pretty sure he hadn’t touched anything. Hopefully he hadn’t left any hairs or fibers that could be traced back to him.

  Time to go. He didn’t have much time to get home and change before work.

  He headed for the door, using his t-shirt to twist the knob.

  The hallway was empty. Thankfully.

  Didn’t need any witnesses seeing him coming or going from this place.

  At least the place was too cheap to have any sort of surveillance system installed.

  The early morning sunlight warmed his back as he casually strode down the sidewalk toward where he’d parked his car.

  He had to get that woman. It was looking more and more likely that he’d have to find a way to get on that boat.

  A lot of people lived on that boat.

  Which meant a lot of potential witnesses and, therefore, a lot of collateral damage.

  Nineteen

  The door crashed shut behind her.

  Bethany flinched, even though she knew she could leave at any time. Somehow that crash had sounded so final.

  She couldn’t imagine being locked in here.

  Yet this was precisely where her husband, a man she’d thought she’d known better than anyone, had spent part of his life.

  Even though he’d made his choices, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

  Stark white walls, an institutional gray concrete floor, and florescent lights along the ceiling made for a depressing environment. She could only imagine how depressing the cell blocks must be.

  Zander gestured for her to precede him to the chairs surrounding the table in the center of the room.

  She took a chair, her gaze tracing the rutted and pockmarked wooden table in front of her.

  A table that was bolted to the floor.

  She wasn’t sure if that fact gave her comfort or the creeps.

  Zander took the chair beside her. “They’ll bring him in shortly. He’ll sit on the other side of the table. If at any point you want to end the conversation, all you have to do is say so. I need a few minutes with the warden before we leave, but I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  While he’d already told her most of that before, hearing it again settled her some.

  “Guards will be outside the whole time and the camera there,” he pointed to a small black camera mounted on the ceiling in the corner, “watches everything. If he gets out of line, guards will be in here faster than you can blink.”

  The reassurance brought fresh anxiety. “Do you think…?”

  He shook his head. “No. The man is scared, but doesn’t seem violent.”

  Yet she knew that all people were fully capable of turning violent.

  It was okay. Zander said he’d be right here. He’d watch out for her.

  A scrape echoed in the room. The door swung open.

  A gray-haired man with a bushy and messy beard shuffled in, his attention immediately locking on her.

  Bruising colored one side of his face and his left eye was almost swollen shut.

  A hint of a smile curled his lips. “Bethy.”

  Bethy. The pet name settled over her. She hadn’t heard it in years, not since James had left.

  It was weird hearing it from this stranger, yet somehow strangely comforting.

  The man sat across from them. The guard who’d escorted him left without a backward glance.

  Silence settled as the door banged closed.

  What should she say?

  Zander broke the silence. “Marty, this is Bethany. Bethany, Marty Bell.”

  “Bethy.” Marty nodded. “You’re just as pretty as James always said you were.”

  Burning lit the back of her eyes. How long had it been since she felt pretty? “Thank you. Did you know James well?”

  A limp shrug lifted Marty’s shoulders. “‘Bout as well as you can know someone in this place, I s’pose.”

  How was she supposed to take that? “What was he like?”

  “He was a good guy. Not like a lot of ‘em in here.”

  Bethany smiled and nodded, waiting for him to continue.

  “Jimmy always had my back. You gotta have people in your corner in this place or you ain’t gonna survive.”

  She took in his battered face. “Is that what happened to you? No one… in your corner?”

  His eyes flicked up to her face, then shifted downward. “Sometimes you take a few licks. It happens.”

  “It shouldn’t.” How could anyone live like that? Always looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next attack to come. “Don’t the guards do anything about it?”

  Marty didn’t look up. “I don’t wanna make waves. Just keep my head down and do my time. It was easier when Jimmy was here.”

  Jimmy. She didn’t think she’d ever heard anyone call him that before.

  It was weird to think of her husband as a Jimmy.

  Marty looked up, his gaze holding hers. “Sure am sorry he’s dead.”

  While she felt like she should agree, a nod was all she could muster. Truth was, she wasn’t sure how she felt either way. True, she was sorry he’d died, especially that way, but part of her was relieved to have closure.

  Living day to day, wondering where he was, if he’d come back, and if he’d disrupt her family’s life again, had been torture.

  She tried to remember the coaching Zander had given her on the way here.

  What was she supposed to ask again?

  “So how did you and… Jimmy… spend your days?”

  “Not an awful lot you can do in here.” He sighed. “Spend as much time in the yard as they’ll let ya. Other ‘n that, just looked fer ways to pass the time. Played lotsa cards.”

  “Do you work in here?”

  “Yeah, most of us gots jobs to do. Jimmy worked in the mailroom. I work in the kitchen.”

  The prison mailroom. A far cry from the CPA she’d married. “Did he ever talk about his work there? Or anyone that he worked with?”

  “Prison rule number, uh…” Marty scratched his head. “Somethin’. You don’t talk ‘bout no one ‘less you lookin’ for a fight. Jimmy ‘n me, we kept our heads down and minded our own business.”

  “You sure about the mailroom, Marty?” Zander surprised her by joining the conversation for the first time. “I stopped by there and no one knew James, uh, Jimmy. Sure he wasn’t working somewhere else?”

  “Huh. Nah, I’m sure it was the mailroom. He’d talk ‘bout some of the things that’d come through. Even brought me a piece of mail once. I don’t get much mail here.”

  That was weird. How could no one remember Jimmy if he’d worked there? It hadn’t been that long since he’d been released. Someone should remember him.

  Focus.

  She wasn’t here to determine if James had been popular with the orange jumpsuit crowd.

  “Zander told me James wrote me letters. Do you have them?”

  Marty stared at her face for a heartbeat too long. “Nope. Probably took ‘em with him.”

  What could those letters have said?

  Would they have offered some sort of explanation as to why he’d never come home?

  Tears unexpectedly blurred her vision. James was gone and if those letters had disappeared, she’d never know the truth. “Do you… have any idea what he might’ve done with them?”

  “Nah.”

  She swiped at a rebellious tear that trickled down her cheek. “I’m sorry. It’s just… they might give me some closure, you know?”

  Marty gnawed his lower lip.

  Was that indecision in his eyes?

  His ga
ze darted away from her to the one-way glass on the far wall.

  Following his gaze, she saw nothing but their reflection.

  “Whoever you’re scared of, we can protect you.” Zander’s words, softly spoken, drew her attention back.

  Marty was scared. She could see it now. How had she missed it before?

  Marty shook his head adamantly. “Don’t know nothin’. Don’t wanna know nothin’.”

  Ignorance was bliss. Or so the old saying went.

  At the very least, Marty seemed to believe it.

  She reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his. “Please, Marty. Someone is trying to kill me. They’ve gone after my kids.”

  Her voice choked and she blinked back tears.

  With his gaze bouncing between her and the one-way glass, Marty looked like a rabbit on steroids.

  He knew more than he was saying. She’d bet her life on it.

  In many ways, she already had.

  She cleared her throat. “If you know anything, or know someone who might know something, you might save my life.”

  Tremors rocked the hand beneath her own. “You don’t get it. I can’t say nothin’. There’s a price to pay.”

  “What if I could get you transferred to a different prison?” Zander asked.

  A sharp laugh, containing no humor, burst from him and he pulled his hand away. “‘Less you’re plannin’ to take me with you now, I won’t last beyond today. I’m probably already dead.”

  “Let me make some calls.” Zander turned to her. “You okay if I step out for a few minutes?”

  She nodded. While she’d been afraid of being alone with Marty before, now that she’d met him, she knew she had nothing to fear.

  It was easy to see why James had liked him. He possessed a gentle spirit that she guessed was hard to find in this place.

  Zander hit a buzzer by the door, which opened a few seconds later.

  Silence descended as the echo of the door closing faded.

  Weariness lined the face across from her.

  “Do you have any family?”

  Marty hung his head. “Always was just me and my ma. She died after I got locked up.”

  How truly sad. He probably hadn’t even gotten to attend her funeral. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He dragged his tired eyes up to hers. “I never got to tell her that I found Jesus in this place. It was what she always wanted for me.”

  Ah. That explained the difference she perceived in him. “She’ll figure it out when you see her again one day.”

  “True ‘nuff. I just wish she coulda seen it ‘fore she got there.”

  “How’d you come to Jesus?”

  His smile almost erased the burdened look he wore. “There’s this guy who comes in. Leads Bible studies. Don’t know why I went one day, but the way he talked ‘bout God. I just knew. Said yes to Jesus and been learnin’ all I can ‘bout Him.”

  The volunteer. It had to be Josiah, right? “Josiah? Is that who leads the study?”

  Marty’s eyes bugged. “How’d you know?”

  “I’m friends with him and his family.” She nodded at the door Zander had just exited. “Zander’s actually seeing his sister.”

  “Huh. Ain’t that somethin’.”

  “Did… Did James ever go to the study with you?”

  Marty’s smile faded. “Nah. Tried to talk to him ‘bout Jesus, but he didn’t want no part of it.”

  Unfortunately, that sounded like the James she knew. He’d been fine with her believing in God, just as long as she – in his words – didn’t preach at him.

  She’d given in on that point. Yet another regret she’d have to live with.

  “Don’t know if he looked for God after gettin’ out. Alls I know is that he loved you.”

  Sure, he did. Actions really did speak louder than words.

  “You don’t leave the ones you love.”

  Except… isn’t that exactly what she did? When her family showed their disapproval, when her parents ended the relationship, didn’t she cut off contact with all her other family members?

  No. They’d guilt-tripped her into silence. It wasn’t the same.

  Was it?

  “He thought it was the best thing for you and them kids.” Marty’s voice brought her back.

  “How? How could being a single mom with no income be the best thing for any of us?”

  Marty laced his fingers together in front of him and leaned on the table. “You ain’t got no idea what it’s like. Alls you can think ‘bout is your next fix. Sometimes, you get that fix from mean people. James didn’t want none of them comin’ ‘round you and the kids.”

  “But… what about rehab? Why didn’t he at look into that option?”

  “Maybe he did.” Marty shrugged. “Or maybe he thought he could quit on his own at some point. Maybe he didn’t even wanna quit. Don’t know.”

  And now that he was dead, they’d never know.

  “But he talked ‘bout going back. Makin’ it up to you and the kids.”

  Yet another thing he never did.

  Broken promises were beginning to feel like the story of her life.

  “He didn’t call you after he got out?” Marty’s brow furrowed.

  “No.” She tried to swallow her bitterness, but it was hard to get past. “Did he…?”

  The room went black.

  Bethany froze, her breath catching in her throat. Ice seeped into her fingers.

  With no windows, the darkness was absolute.

  What had happened?

  And why didn’t this place have a generat…

  A light in the center of the ceiling flickered, then came on, casting a dim yellow glow over the table between her and Marty.

  Even in the faint light, she could tell Marty had paled. In fact, he looked a small step from passing out.

  “Marty? You okay?”

  He leaned forward, intensity etched in the lines on his face. “They’re comin’ for me. You gotta know ‘bout block G.”

  He’d dropped his voice so low she could barely hear it above the buzzing of the lights overhead. “What–?”

  “Don’t know much.” Marty cast a furtive, if somewhat frantic, glance at the door. “Rumors mostly. ‘Bout some big secret operation runnin’ outta there. Guards know. Some o’ the inmates are in on it, but I don’t know who. I think maybe Jimmy knew.”

  The lock scraped.

  “Careful who you trust.” Marty leaned back, his face going blank.

  A sturdy man with a buzzcut stepped in. The crisp uniform identified him as one of the guards. “Time to go.”

  Was it even safe to leave during a power outage? The hallway they’d walked down had been creepy enough when well lit. She couldn’t imagine traversing it in the semi-dark. “Can we wait until the lights come back on?”

  The guard shook his head. “Negative. Place goes on lockdown during all power outages. Prisoners have to be in their cells and all visitors either leave or wait in the lobby. That’s the rule.”

  Oh. Well she certainly wouldn’t want to disrupt the rules…

  The guard held up a hand as she rose. “We’ll remove the prisoner first, ma’am.”

  Bethany eased back into the hard, wooden chair. Two more guards entered the room, approaching Marty.

  He flinched as one of them clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  Rising slowly, Marty trudged to the door.

  “Marty?”

  He swiveled his head toward her.

  “Thank you. I hadn’t heard from James in years and talking to you about him, well, it helped.”

  Marty nodded. “You take care o’ yourself, Bethy.”

  Something about the way he said it felt very final. As if he never expected to see her again.

  Then again, why would he? He had no reason to expect a repeat visit.

  In reality, she had little reason to return, except maybe to encourage him.

  The guard gave him a small nudge and Marty
stepped into the hallway.

  As the two guards escorted Marty from the room, Mr. Buzz Cut took up position in the doorway, diverting his attention between her and whatever was going on in the hallway.

  Where was Zander? Shouldn’t he have been back by now?

  She’d sure feel a whole lot better if he was around.

  Marty’s warning echoed in her head, his paranoia ebbing her courage. What if he was right? Maybe there was plenty to fear inside these walls.

  She eyed the guard in the doorway.

  How did she know he was really a guard? Sure, he was in a uniform but…

  Get a grip! They didn’t hand out uniforms to anyone, for crying out loud.

  The guard turned back to her. “Okay, let’s go.”

  She forced her legs to lift her body. “What about Zan… Detective Salinas? He said he’d be right back.”

  The guard gestured for her to join him. “He’ll find you in the lobby. Come on.”

  The hallway stretched before them. Empty and barely lit, it looked like the stuff of horror movies.

  She forced a deep breath as she fell into step beside the guard.

  This wasn’t a horror movie. And the boogeyman who was after her was outside these walls.

  Unfortunately.

  At least if he were locked inside, she could be relatively certain of her safety outside.

  The guard didn’t try to make small talk as they walked. Their footsteps echoed off the barren walls, but other than that, silence loomed.

  Static made her jump.

  The guard reached for the walkie at his hip. “Come again?”

  Another burp of static. “Disturbance in general pop…”

  More static swallowed up the words.

  A disturbance. Was that code for riot? Or maybe the inmates were trying to take over the prison. She’d seen that in movies.

  They’d kill the guards and she’d be left to fend for herself.

  Her breathing quickened, as did her steps.

  The guard seemed to feel the urgency, too, since he kept pace with her.

  As her thoughts ran wild, she tried to rein them in.

  This was real life. Not a movie. Prisons had safeguard after safeguard in place to prevent insurgence.

  Still, she’d feel better once…

  A door burst open at the end of the hall.

  Several men spilled into the hallway. She caught flashes of uniforms, as well as orange jumpsuits.