Suddenly she didn’t want to be around either of them. She went over to the far corner of the room and pretended to study some scuff marks on the wall. Far enough away that Fetlock must have believed she couldn’t hear what he said next.
The Fed leaned in close to speak to Glauer. Man to man— they would be elbowing each other in the ribs soon enough. “So she’s in prison,” Fetlock whispered, and she could tell from his tone of voice that he was about to try to make a joke. He did that, every once in a while, and every time it made Clara cringe. “It’s not that bad, is it? I mean, come on. She’s gay. For her, this has to be like going away to summer camp.”
Glauer earned a little credit in Clara’s book then, because he didn’t laugh.
4.
They carried Caxton through the prison halls at a fast jog. She was wrapped up in a thick blanket that pressed against her nose and mouth and made it difficult to breathe. She couldn’t see where she was, much less where they were going. Finally they brought her into a small echoing room and dumped her on the floor. COs in full riot gear stood around her with stun guns, ready for her to jump up and attack them on sight. When she didn’t, they stepped out of the room and a pair of female COs in stab-proof vests replaced them.
“What’s going on?” Caxton asked. She looked around and found herself in a room lined with dingy white tiles. There was a large steel bathtub on one side of the room and what looked like medical equipment hanging on the opposite wall.
“Strip,” one of the COs said. A big woman wearing eye protection. She leaned against a plastic table and stared out the window. The other CO, who had a harelip, kept her eyes glued on Caxton. She didn’t even blink.
Caxton knew this routine. She’d been a cop in her previous life. There were times when you were handling a prisoner when you couldn’t predict what they were going to do, so you made sure they didn’t have any options. She understood that she wouldn’t be allowed to ask any questions and that if she didn’t do exactly what the guard told her, the men with the stun guns would come back in and do it for her. Looking down at the floor, she unfastened the Velcro strip that held her jumpsuit closed in the front.
“Everything. Off,” the big CO said, while studying her own fingernails.
Caxton kicked off her slippers, then peeled off her underwear and her bra. It was very cold in the little room and she started to wrap her arms around herself, but the CO with the harelip took a step forward and grabbed her arms and pulled them down at her sides.
“Don’t touch anything. Keep your hands where we say,” the big CO told Caxton. “Now, we’re going to search you. Do not move. Do not swallow. Do not flinch.”
Harelip pulled on plastic gloves and then ran her fingers through Caxton’s hair. She took a flashlight from her pocket and pointed it into her mouth and her ears. She lifted up Caxton’s arms and checked her armpits, then told Caxton to lift up her breasts so she could check underneath.
“Turn around,” the big CO said when that was done. “Lean over the table. Now spread your buttocks. Wider.”
Caxton gritted her teeth. Harelip squatted down to get a good look.
“Stand up. Turn around again. Spread your vagina.”
Caxton squeezed her eyes shut in shame. But she did it. She knew they had the legal right to handcuff her and do it to her if she refused. When she opened her eyes again she saw Harelip staring up at her from between her legs.
“You like this, lesbo? You having a good time?” Harelip whispered.
Caxton said nothing.