“I’ll be here.”
I left the cabin and made the drive back into Saint View. But I skirted the prison and drove to Liam’s apartment in Providence. I’d been there a few times, mostly to watch sports, and I parked out front. The streets were quiet, the only people up and about were a couple of early commuters and a pair of joggers in designer active wear. The lobby of Liam’s building was empty, the doorman seemingly off duty. I couldn’t remember the door code from the last Super Bowl party we’d had, so I had no choice but to hold my finger to the little gray buzzer for the penthouse apartment.
I buzzed for a solid ten minutes before coming to the conclusion that he either wasn’t ready to talk or he was still passed out from last night’s drinking efforts.
“You’re not getting out of it that easily, Banks,” I muttered to myself. “If I have to drive into the city to your office, I will. I’ll be back after shift.”
A woman walking past with a baby in a stroller gave me a wide berth, and I couldn’t blame her. I was standing in the middle of the road talking to myself. I slunk back to my car and took one last peek up at the penthouse windows. If Liam was watching me, I couldn’t tell. But I had to get to work.
I stepped through the doors with nerves rioting around my belly. It was still too early for reception staff to be on, and I was grateful because it gave me a moment to get myself together. There’d be questions today. I’d already given my statement to the police while I was in the hospital, but I had no doubt that Tabor would want to interrogate me, and the other guards would no doubt want the gossip. I wasn’t surprised when there was a note taped to my locker door that simply said ‘come see me.’ It was on prison letterhead, and I recognized the warden’s blocky handwriting.
I stowed my gear in my locker, tapping Mae’s as I walked past. She’d be back tonight to teach a class, but I’d be gone by then. A trickle of worry wandered down my spine over why the two of us had been scheduled on opposite shifts. It wasn’t entirely uncommon, we’d worked opposite shifts before, but Tabor knew I preferred to be her guard.
I leaned on Tabor’s open office door, and the man looked up from his pile of paperwork.
“You’re early.” He paused in his paper shuffling and sat back in his chair, indicating that I should take the chair opposite him.
“Not my favorite shift to work, but it’s not in me to be late.”
“Of course. You’re nothing if not reliable.”
I sat in the chair opposite him, his big desk between us overflowing with folders and office supplies. There was a hint of something in his voice that worried me. Suspicion, perhaps? Or maybe I was just being paranoid.
“That shiner’s better. How’s the ribs?”
“Fine, thanks. All better.”
Tabor picked up a folder and handed it across the desk to me. “Says you. Your discharge paperwork from the hospital said light duties for at least a week.”
I groaned. “How about we just ignore that? I’m fine, truly.”
Tabor looked at me with that calculating gaze that made me think he was mulling over things he wasn’t saying aloud, just biding his time for the right moment. Warning bells went off in the back of my mind, and instinct shouted that the man was smart. I needed to be careful around him.
Just as quickly as the expression had crossed his face, it was gone again, and he chuckled like we were old friends. Somehow, that made me even more paranoid.
“Not really wanting to open us up to a lawsuit because I didn’t follow your doctor’s orders. Sorry, Pritchard. You’re riding a desk for a week. But don’t worry, there’s plenty to keep you busy in there.” He pointed to the folder. “Paroles. And lots of them. They all need processing and the prisoners kicked out the doors. We’re overcrowded, and need to make some room.”
That I could get on board with. We had way too many men here. With the influx of prisoners after the riot, and the staff that had been fired and never fully replaced, we were operating at a guard-to-prisoner ratio well outside the accepted state rules. I tried to force a friendly smile, trying to keep the man on my side. “No problem. I’ve got it handled.”
“I’ve got another man on light duties already in the processing office. Just buzz down to Gen Pop when you’re ready to start.”
“You got it.” I stood to leave, but Tabor’s voice called me back before I’d managed to escape.
“Pritchard, what happened last week… I’ve never seen anything like that happen in a prison, and I’ve worked in the system for twenty-five years.” He cocked his head to one side as he eyed me. “I haven’t been able to sleep for thinking about it. I owe you an apology. It shouldn’t have happened, not under my watch. I intend to get to the bottom of how it did.”
I froze on the inside. The last thing I wanted was him investigating what had happened any more thoroughly than the police were.
“If you need to talk about it, you know where I am, right? Anything you want to tell me, I’ll be all ears.”
That was when I knew for sure he suspected my involvement. The words could only have been construed as caring and concerned if you were deaf and didn’t hear the thinly veiled accusations in his tone.
I forced a laugh. “Got a shrink for that. I’m good. Just want to get back to work.”
“A man dedicated to his job. Good to see. On you go, then.”
It took everything in me not to spin on my heel and sprint down the corridor. I forced myself to walk a normal pace toward the parole processing rooms and hoped the sweat trickling down my spine wasn’t visible through my shirt.
It was a relief to put distance between me and Tabor, and by the time I got to the opposite end of the prison, I’d managed to normalize my breathing. I scanned my way into the office and grinned when I recognized the other man. Colt had his boots propped up on the desk, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if he’d decided to take a nap while he waited for me.