All In: Raising the Stakes (14 page)

Katie

Despite how crazy the day before was, Joe, Chad and I got a good nights’ sleep and were up bright and early Friday morning, ready to take on the gossip head on. The smell of syrup had my mouth watering after I finished getting ready. Chad has gone home to get dressed for work, but Joe’s still here, cooking me breakfast again. He’s spoiling me. I haven’t cooked all week.

"Good morning," I say to Joe, since we skipped the greeting this morning when we woke up; the three of us naked and both men buried deep inside of me at the same time. Even though the threesome was really hot, watching the two men make love to each other last night after we got home was even hotter.

"Morning," Joe says over his shoulder with a smile.                                     

"Whatcha cooking?" I ask, taking a seat up on the stool at the kitchen counter.

"French toast. You like French toast, right?"

"Of course." I’m content to sit and watch him work. "Smells delicious."

"Yeah, it's almost done."

"I don't know which I like better, waking up with you in my bed or in my kitchen cooking," I joke.

He gives me another over the shoulder grin. "There's no reason you can’t have both."

I laugh and get up to fix coffee, seeing the pot’s already made. I don't know what to do with myself. It’s nice sharing my morning with someone else. Drew usually sleeps in and barely wakes up before I leave for work.

Joe interrupts my musing when he sits a plate of food in front of me with a bottle of syrup. Taking a seat beside me on the other stool at the counter he settles in to eat his own plate.

I cut my first bite and dig in. "Mm. This is really good. Thank you," I tell him.

"Sure," he says absently as he looks at the pile of mail on the counter where Candice left it last night. I haven’t had a chance to sort through it yet. Now that I’m actually looking at it, I realize there’s an envelope with Drew's name and our address handwritten on the front.

“Drew already gets mail?” Joe asks.

“Not usually.” I pick up the envelope that doesn’t have a return address and open it. Inside there’s a black and white photo of Drew from his birthday party me and a few women from work threw for him a few weeks ago. He’s wearing his party hat, blowing out the number three candle. I'd posted it on Facebook, thinking nothing of it since I only accept friend requests from people that I actually know.

Flipping the envelope over again, I notice the postmark was stamped from Raleigh. A few friends from college stayed in that area after we graduated from State, but I can't figure why they wouldn’t put their name or a note inside.

"What is it?" Joe asks.

"I'm not really sure,” I say, handing the photo and envelope to him.

"There's no return address," Joe says, lifting it to look at the front and back.

"Yeah, weird, right? It's the picture I put on Facebook, but I don't know why one of my friends would send it without a note or something."

"Raleigh?" Joe exclaims when he notices the postmark. His fork clatters loudly down on his plate.

"Several friends from college still live down there. I went to undergrad at State."

"Katie, you know what else is in Raleigh, right?" he asks seriously, his tan face seeming a little paler than normal. 

I shrug, not really understanding his question. "A lot of things, why?"

"It's also where Central Prison is."

"You think an inmate sent it? That's crazy. No one there could see my Facebook pictures, and it doesn't have their stamp on it. You know the prisons always stamp the front, labeling it as inmate mail. I get those letters all the time at work from pissed off defendants."

Joe exhales and relaxes his shoulders a little. "Yeah, you're right. All the prisons in the state are required to label them. It's just, it seems…odd."

He quickly pulls out his phone from his pocket and calls someone, despite the early hour.

"Tyler, sorry to call so early, but did you check on where that inmate is being held?" he asks the police officer. "No, that's okay, I figured you just got busy. What? Why?" he asks into the phone, then puts it away.

"What's going on, Joe?" I ask, growing more concerned.

"The other day I asked Tyler about your sister's case. He said he thought Rakes was in Central and would check on it. He'd forgotten but said he'd look it up while I was on the phone, then he cursed and said he'd call me back."

"Rakes?" I ask. "You mean…" I try not to ever think of that man's name, much less say it.

"Yeah. But Tyler said Rakes doesn't know that Drew survived."

We both sit in silence until a few minutes later Joe's phone rings. Still holding it in his hand, he answers right away. "Tyler?" he asks, then he jumps up, sending the stool backwards until it slams against the floor. "You've got to be fucking kidding. Are you absolutely sure? Email it to me. Okay, that's probably a good idea. Thanks."

Joe runs a hand through his messy morning hair in frustration when he ends the call. "You won't believe this shit, but Rakes is missing."

"Missing?" I ask, jumping off my own stool. "How can he be 'missing' when he's incarcerated at a high security prison?" I yell.

"I don't know. Tyler's making some calls to the warden to figure out what's going on. They've apparently kept it real quiet, only a nonspecific alert to the local police department that Tyler was able to find through his department. It just says that three inmates in transport to a medical facility, and the two guards with them are missing. They've been careful not to say they 'escaped.' The RPD has kept it quiet, basically under the impression they wrecked and are all dead somewhere, but the transport vehicle hasn't been seen since it left the prison two days ago."

"
Two days ago
! How could they not report this or put out a statewide alert?"

"Have you got any Ziploc bags?" Joe asks.

"What?"

"I want to take this to the evidence room and get them to run prints on it. Even though we've both touched it they might be able to find something," he says nodding to the picture and envelope. Oh, that’s actually a really good idea. I’m not thinking clearly.

Now shaking from head to toe, I go over to the drawer where I keep plastic bags and hand Joe a large bag. Using a napkin, he picks both pieces of mail up and puts them inside.

"I'll take this down to the GPD and see what I can find out if you'll cover the docket for me in courtroom 2C this morning?" he asks, and I nod. I need something to keep me busy instead of worrying.

"What about Drew? I don't want to leave him…" I can't finish the rest of the sentence.

"Tyler said he's going to get them to send a patrol car out to the neighborhood and keep watch until we know more, just as a precaution. Stay here until he gets here, and tell the babysitter not to open the door for anyone but you."

"I just…I want to know how the hell this happened. And why no one has notified us."

"I don’t know, but I'll call Lacy and ask her to notify her network. Maybe they'll pick the story up and find out what the fuck's going on."

I have a feeling it’s going to be another long day, which is a shame after how perfect it started.

…

Joe

I wait until I leave Katie's to call Lacy.

"Hey, Joe," she answers, sounding half-asleep.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" I ask.

"It's okay, I had to get up and pee again, anyway."

"Sorry, but I need to ask a favor and it's sort of urgent."

"Okay, sure. What's up?" she asks.

"I need you to ask your station to look into a story. They'd be the first to break it and I have a feeling it's going to be huge."

"Awesome. Give me what details you have and I'll make some calls."

"Richard Rakes, an inmate in Central Prison, convicted of kidnapping, rape, and murder about three years ago is quote, unquote missing according to what Tyler could find through the police channels. Two guards, Rake and two other inmates were headed for a medical facility two fucking days ago and none of them or the truck has been seen since. Can you can believe that shit? The prison has kept it quiet and the RPD has helped, putting the public at risk, not to mention the victims and their families. They’re stupidly trying to play it off like they're all dead."

"Holy shit! This could go national!" I hear Lacy static like she's scrambling around on the other end.

"Lacy, don't...you’re supposed to be on bed rest." 

"Joe, you know I've been waiting for a story like this. It could set my career for life! I haven't had any more contractions since the other night, and I'll go easy. I won't even be on my feet until the camera is ready to roll."

"Just be careful."

"I will. So will you email me what you have, names, case number, public record docs? Oh, and do you think Rake's victim's family might be willing to make a statement?"

"Doubtful. Lace, you don't know what's at stake here. The victim was Katie's younger sister, Kelly Albright. She went missing for months and then she died the night she went into labor."

"Oh my God! I remember hearing about that story when I was in college. I had no idea that was her sister."

"Yeah, and here's the biggest problem, the baby lived, even though the police and prosecutor let Rakes think he didn't survive. He's three. His name is Drew, and…Katie's been raising him on her own since he was born."

"
Jesus
!" she exclaims. "I swear, Joe, I will keep both him and her out of this."

"Thanks. The story needs to get out there. Someone might spot one of these guys, because despite what the prison wants to believe, I have a feeling the inmates are alive and well."

"Ooh, we are going to tear the prison and RPD a new one for keeping this quiet for so long. I can't wait!" she exclaims. "Sorry, Joe, I know this has got to be making Katie a nervous wreck. Are her and her little boy going to stay somewhere safe until we know more?"

"As of right now, no, but Tyler is putting a patrol on the house to keep watch."

"That's good, but maybe they should stay with you or someone else."

"I don't know. I'll talk to Katie tonight and see what she wants to do."

"Okay, well I've got work to do. Send me the info and we'll break this shit wide open before noon!"

"Thanks, Lace. Love you."

"I owe you the thanks, Joe, and I love you, too."

In the evidence lab, I go over the details with the technician, give him Rakes information so he could pull his prints to compare to any he finds on the envelope or paper, then talk to Tyler's superior about keeping watch on Katie's house until further notice.

"We've got it covered twenty-four seven, I assure you," Sergeant Simmons tells me.

"Great, I appreciate that."

"Did Tyler tell you that I was the one who arrested this sick son of a bitch?" he asks.

I nod, remembering him mentioning it.

"If you want, and if Katie agrees, I'll have my officer intercept her mail to go through it with gloves from now on, just in case."

"That's a great idea. And I'm sure she'll agree, but I'll ask her and tell her to call or email you with permission." 

After I call and give Chad an update on what’s going on, I spend the rest of the morning waiting to hear more from Tyler or even Lacy if she’s able to dig up some dirt. At noon, Katie and I go online to live stream the Charlotte news station.

The story, with breaking news caption, is first up with Lacy reporting from the front of Central Prison's gated entrance. She says prison administrators had been evasive when she tried to interview them, and that the Raleigh Police Department refused to respond to her inquiry. There was however, a press conference to be held at four in the afternoon by the state's Department of Corrections’ officials.

The rest of the day goes from bad to worse. The names of the other two inmates are released. They were both from our district, along with Rakes, and they'd both been prosecuted by Katie, receiving long sentences for being repeat offenders. Unfortunately, one of them also happened to have been my fucking client.

James Brannock is a mean son of a bitch with an assault record a mile long, a few breaking and enterings, and several drug charges. By the time I'd represented him he was a habitual felon, having more than three prior felony convictions from three unrelated incidents. His record put him at the high end of the sentencing chart, and the judge had no choice but to give him the minimum mandatory of two hundred and ten months for his most recent assault on a female inflicting serious injury while he was still on probation for other felonies. Katie really had no part in it other than representing the state.   

The third inmate, Stephen Brown, went to trial with Katie prosecuting, and he was found guilty of assault with a deadly weapon inflicting serious injury, and attempted second degree murder. It had been an easy win for her since the victim was still alive and got on the stand to point a finger at his attacker.