“Yeah, man, I know. I’m gonna really try this time.”
Cruz read the man’s record. “You know the drill. You’ve done time before. Just in case – no weapons, no drugs, no association with known criminals, carry ID at all times.” He paused and eyed the man’s pasty face. “You got family? A place to stay?”
Hansen looked at his hands as if he’d find the answer there. “Uh, not really.”
Cruz sighed and reached for the packet of papers in the right desk drawer. “Here’s a list of shelters, places where you can get a free meal, coffee and a snack in the morning. Also a list of companies that hire ex-felons.”
He stapled his business card to the top of the packet and handed Hansen a few vouchers. “These are bus passes you can use to get up here for your weekly appointments. If you had a place to stay, I’d only need to see you monthly instead of weekly, so try to get a regular residence, okay?”
After a few more minutes of instructions, Cruz finished. An inmate is required to serve out his parole in the area where he committed his offense, a policy that made no sense to Cruz. How could a guy start over again when all he knew were the same crooks and petty thieves, drug addicts and pimps who’d gotten him started in crime in the first place?
He blew out a deep breath, having no faith that Cole Hansen would be different from all the other parolees who passed through his office. “That’s all for now. Keep my number. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
Hansen rose and picked up the papers, looking stunned and overwhelmed. His shoulders slumped and he sort of shuffled toward the door, turning back when he reached it. “What – what about protection?”
“Protection? From what?”
Hansen looked quickly over his shoulder into the lobby. “You know. From them.”
Cruz shrugged, looking out at the three other waiting parolees. “Hey, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those guys are in the same boat as you.”
Hansen waited a long time, stepping from one foot to another in an odd little two-step.
“Has someone threatened you?” Cruz asked. “Are you afraid of something? We’ve got lots of resources to help you, but you gotta reach out, man.”
Hansen stared blankly and finally whispered. “Oh, okay.”
He opened the door and started out, but Cruz stopped him. “Look, go to Jesus Saves in Rosedale. There’s a bus route and map in the packet.” He pointed to the pile of papers clutched in Hansen’s fist. “Talk to Angie. Tell her Santiago Cruz sent you. She’s good people. She’ll help you get around, find a job.”
“Uh, okay.” The man looked dazed, and when he reached the outer door to the building, he turned back again. “You can contact the doc at Pelican Bay, can’t you?”
“The doctor at the prison? I could,” Cruz said slowly, “but why should I?”
“The doc – she’ll – she’s good people, too – she – she’ll tell you – ”
“Tell me what?” Cruz interrupted impatiently.
“About me ... and what I know.”
Cruz stood and watched the man stumble awkwardly out of the parole office. Did Hansen really know something or was he paranoid, caught up in his own delusional world?
Damn, dude wasn’t going to make it. He looked defeated before he’d even started.
Chapter 20
Frankie sank shakily into her office desk chair after the guards escorted Anson Stark from the infirmary. After prescribing a mild pain reliever for Stark’s “headaches,” she’d needed a moment alone.
She lowered her head onto her folded arms, her insides coiling with panic and shock. She’d only needed to look into his eyes – those freaky translucent eyes – to know that Anson Stark was a cold-blooded murderer.
Maybe he’d been convicted of second-degree murder in the death of his wife, as the rumors went, but the deaths of two SHU inmates had been deliberate, and planned like a military commander initiating a well-executed campaign.
She’d certainly gotten the message he intended. He perceived her as a threat, one to eliminate coolly and ruthlessly. But why? How? Did it all tie back to the note Cole Hansen had given her?
Ten minutes later her heart still raced like a metronome on speed, but she stifled her fear, took deep breaths – in slowly, out slowly – and assessed the situation.
She would not let this monster get the better of her.
The primary emotion, she realized after a moment’s reflection, wasn’t fear but anger, coupled with helplessness. Sure, she was shaken up – who wouldn’t be when confronted with a calculated killer? – but Stark had stirred up a painful and primitive emotion, a fierce need to retaliate.