“I’m going to need your weapons, detectives. No weapons allowed in the facility. Standard procedure.” The guard handed them out two sealed bags which they quickly scrawled their name on, deposited their guns inside, and then watching as the guard locked them up in a large safe in a room behind him. When he was finished, he came back and waved them towards the entry door.
The door buzzed to their right, indicating that it was being unlocked for them. McCraig went and pulled it open while Snow thanked the officer.
“Head into room three, I’ll send a guard to go find your inmate when lock-down is over. An alarm went off, probably a fight or something, we haven’t heard up here yet. What was your inmate’s name again?” The officer asked her.
“Tracy Glen.” She confirmed.
“Oh, yeah, he has been popular today.” He told her, nodding and then disappearing through a metal door behind him in his glass room. McCraig had furrowed his brows in suspicion but still held the door open for Snow, motioning her through. The duo walked down a concrete hallway in desperate need of a fresh paint job until they reached a second set of locked doors. They stood there for a moment until they heard the buzzing sound again, letting them through.
Room three was easy to locate after that point, only a few more feet down the next hallway. They were on the very outskirts of the prison, still a distance away from where prisoners were kept so they knew that there was going to be a bit of a wait. The room was anything but welcoming with a gray, metal table in the center of the room surrounded by four plastic chairs. There was a large window on one side that was completely frosted over as well as barred, giving light but no view.
The detectives settled into two of the plastic chairs and pulled out their files to give them a quick glance before Tracy Glen joined them. They both wanted to be on the top of their game and leave nothing out. This was a huge lead and they both knew they needed it because otherwise they would be completely out of luck. The detectives had ample opportunity to read and reread the file though as they sat there waiting and watching the minutes slowly click away on the old clock nailed to the concrete wall.
McCraig looked down at his watch and let out an exasperated sigh.
“What the hell is taking so long? It’s been over an hour we been in here.” McCraig said in the faulty grammar he was known for. Snow didn’t respond, but just shrugged. She was just as irritated as he was but preferred not to show it. She liked to be in control, calm and collected at all times. She began to count the ticks on the clock, one for each second. She stared at it mindlessly, counting her way out of boredom.
“Are you the officers waiting for Tracy Glen?” A short and balding man suddenly popped his head in through the door almost 90 minutes after they had entered the room. McCraig nodded sullenly from his chair and Snow stood up to face the door.
“Detectives. And yes, we have been waiting for over an hour and a half. Is he ready yet?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the agitation out of her tone. The bald man walked awkwardly into the room shuffling his feet, and pushing his hands into his suit pant’s pockets. He blew out with a large exhale and then licked his lips.
“See here’s the thing. We’ve been on lock-down for the last two hours. I’m Phillip Williams, but you can call me Phil. I’m the warden here and, uh, well we’ve had an unfortunate incident of sorts.” He told them, shifting his gaze to avoid direct eye contact with them. Neither detective responded, they were waiting for further explanation. The warden sighed again then continued, rubbing his pudgy hand over his bald head. For a warden, he was the last type of person you expected at first glance. He was awkward and non-threatening and his stature made him small and forgettable.
“Tracy Glen died this morning.” He stated simply, tossing his hands up in frustration and then clasping them together in front of his stomach where his hands continued to fidget nervously.
“He is dead? What are you talking about, I just spoke to an officer this morning who said Tracy would be ready when we got here!” Detective Snow was standing inches from the warden now, her voice raised and threatening to turn into shouting very soon. McCraig stood up slowly and walked the long way around the table, carefully deciphering what he was hearing.
“How did he die?” McCraig didn’t skip a beat as he glared at Phil.
“You know, the investigation isn’t complete yet, but I can have them send you a report in a few weeks once its finalized.” The warden told them as he opened the door again behind them, hoping to attempt a speedy exit.
That wasn’t going to fly with McCraig.
With a quick jerk of his foot, McCraig kicked the door shut leaving the warden stuck in the room with them. He slowly took a step closer to him while Detective Snow stepped to the side, knowing not to get in McCraig’s way when he was pissed. And this was one pissed off McCraig.