First Degree Innocence (10 page)

With a deep breath, Carrie sagged against the fence and pressed her face against the cold steel. The wind fluttered the cornstalks and rippled the leaves of the smaller plants. A dirt funnel swirled in the far background. She wondered when garden duty took place. No one ever worked it while she was on rec. Maybe in the morning when the dew still sparkled and everything was still. That would be her choice.

The thought of spending time in Seth’s company made her heart pound harder. She prayed whatever Jet required of her was doable. If the woman hadn’t dangled Seth as the prize, the decision wouldn’t present such a dilemma.

* * * * *

Carrie awoke to whispered voices. The lights were still muted so she assumed it was early. She pushed up on her elbow and peered into the hallway, but saw no one. The hushed conversation continued, but she failed to catch even one word of what was said. Inching to the edge of her mattress, she peered over to find Jet’s bunk empty. The cell door was slightly ajar.

Curiosity niggled at her. Clearly Jet was having a secret rendezvous, but with whom? Carrie carefully and quietly slithered from beneath her blanket and dropped to the floor. Contact between the icy cement and her bare feet caused a grimace. In the shadows of the cell, she crept to the bars and craned her neck for a peek. Ogden! The pig. She and Jet leaned against the wall, smiling and chatting like they were old pals. Carrie strained to listen, but they were too far away.

Gnashing her teeth, she climbed back into her bed. The last thing she needed was to get caught eavesdropping on the two most powerful people in her world. She rolled over and faced the wall when she heard the slurping of Jet’s shoes against the hall tiles. The cell door creaked open then clicked loudly when Jet eased it shut. The bunk bed swayed slightly beneath Jet’s weight. The rustling of plastic and added movement ended with an audible sigh in the stillness.

God, how she wanted to know what they discussed, but she dared not ask despite the curiosity eating at her. In the time she’d been there, she’d seen no other inmates allowed to stroll out into the hallway and saunter back to bed like royalty. What powers did Jet possess?

Carrie chewed her bottom lip and ran through the limited list of names of people she knew who Jet might possibly plot against. It had to be someone outside Carrie’s circle of friends. At least that was a plus if she had to get involved in her cellmate’s scheming. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Carrie awoke to the sound of the food carts churning down the hallway and the sickly smell of eggs. She groaned, realizing she had dozed off, then sat up. Jet stood at the sink. Niggling suspicion still rankled Carrie, but she dropped to the floor, shuffled to the toilet and lowered her pants. Having an audience while she peed was getting easier. As she sat, she peered up at Jet. “Mornin’. Been awake long?”

“No, just a few minutes.” Jet pulled a comb through her short hair.

Liar! Carrie wanted to scream the word, but she finished her business and flushed. Pulling up her bottoms, she took a deep breath and wrinkled her nose. “Wouldn’t it be nice to smell something appetizing for a change? I’m so sick of eggs. I can’t decide which is worse, the runny real ones or the powdered scrambled ones.”

Jet turned, a sly smile on her face. “You want real food? I can arrange something from the outside. All you have to do is agree to help me.”

There had to be limits. On the heels of promising garden duty, now she offered an opportunity to dine on something other than prison chow. Carrie furrowed her brow. “Right. You gonna call out for pizza, or borrow a car and drive through Burger King for me?”

Jet narrowed her eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to prove how much I can help you out while you’re here, Lang. Just say the magic words, ‘yes, I’m in’, and I’ll show you I keep my promises.”

How? Why? What gave her such ability? Those questions whirled through Carrie’s mind again, but it wasn’t likely Jet would answer them, if asked. She’d be dumb to divulge anything to spoil the neat arrangement she appeared to have. Still, Carrie craved answers. She heaved a sigh. “So what if I do say I’ll help you? What exactly do you expect from me? Can I get into trouble? You can’t think I’m so stupid I’d agree without seeing the big picture.” She sagged down on the edge of Jet’s bunk, her eyes searching the woman’s face for any trace of emotion.

Jet plopped down next to her, uncomfortably close, her breath smelling of toothpaste. “If I tell you the plan and you don’t carry through, I’ll have to kill you.”

Carrie edged away, waiting for laughter to tell her Jet only kidded with her. But, the woman’s eyes remain fixed and cold. The hair bristled on the back of Carrie’s neck.

“Still wanna know?” Jet sat taller and cocked her head.

Of course, Carrie wanted to know. She’d always had a curious nature, and now she had an opportunity to do something besides sit in a boring cell all day. And see Seth Martin. He made the whole deal even more appealing. The only thing that kept her from instantly agreeing to help Jet was not knowing the identity of the intended target and what exact role she’d be expected to play. Her heart hammered at Jet’s death threat. Surely, she wouldn’t kill someone for refusing to help her. Would she?

“So, do you wanna know or not?” Jet flung her arm across Carrie’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your while. Think of Seth and being able to get to know him.”

Trying not to reveal her unease, Carrie rose and paced. Think of Seth? The woman was clueless. That’s all Carrie had thought of since she’d seen him. He was the bait she found most irresistible, yet she didn’t know why. All because of a friendly smile and beautiful eyes?

Hearing Jet’s impatient cluck, Carrie stopped and blew out a noisy breath. “Were you being truthful when you said you’d kill me if I refused to help you after you told me the plan?” Her insides quivered.

Jet chuckled. “You figure it out. If I tell you my plan and it’s a no go, what keeps you from running your mouth and screwing everything up? I figure dead people don’t tell.”

The woman’s calculating coldness shocked Carrie. She chewed her bottom lip.

“If you’re worried you’ll get into trouble,” Jet continued, “you won’t. I’ll protect you. I have connections, but then I’m sure you already know that.”

Carrie backed up against the wall and slid to the floor, her legs crossed Indian style. A chill crept through the thin material of her pants and peppered her legs with goose bumps. “Can you at least tell me what you expect me to do?”

Jet picked at her cuticles. “Nothing for a while. Just be my cellmate, enjoy the perks, and in a month or so, I’ll put my plan into action.”

Accepting meant working in the garden with Seth now without having to involve herself in Jet’s scheme—maybe even enjoy the decent meal she’d promised. Perhaps, before time was up, Carrie could find a way out of the whole mess. Or, she could say no right now and be done with it.

Chapter Ten

Hmm, a month or so? Carrie pondered the offer. She gnashed her teeth. Only a fool would pass up an opportunity like this out of fear. A lot could happen in thirty days. Experience had proven that. One day she was minding her own business and the next she checked into Hotel Hell as an inmate.

“Okay, I’ll help you.” Bravado took control and she answered before her brain had a chance to process the pitfalls.

Jet stood and offered her hand. “Great. Let’s shake on it.”

Carrie swallowed hard, rose from sitting on the cell floor and locked palms with her. She prayed she hadn’t made a deadly mistake, but warm thoughts of blue eyes and dark hair tempered her fears. Seth’s handsome face drifted through her mind. “So, when do I get to start working in the garden?”

Cocking her head, Jet cast a curious glance at Carrie. “What, no questions about what you have to do? Don’t you care who the intended target is?” She plopped on her bunk, drew up her bare foot and scratched the bottom of it. “Don’t’ forget garden duty is an advance reward for doing a job, so you’d better not think about crossing me.”

Carrie’s throat thickened. Wasn’t backing out of the deal exactly what she planned to do?

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She pushed the lie around a choking lump, fearing a tremble in her voice might give her away. “It’s… it’s just I’m so anxious to get outside these walls for a change.” Her stomach churned. She’d never been a very good liar, but her words weren’t entirely untrue.

Jet laughed. “You act like you’ve been here forever.”

“It seems like I have.” Carrie moved to the sink and ran her brush through her hair. She avoided looking Jet in the eyes for fear the woman might be able to see through her deception, but a blurred image in the shiny metal wall mirror stared over Carrie’s shoulder. Fingers bit into the flesh of her upper arm.

Jet spun her around. “I meant what I said, Lang. This isn’t a game to me. You play along or you’ll end up in a body bag.”

Words whirled through Carrie’s brain but she couldn’t respond. How could someone of equal size and weight be so intimidating? Fighting had never been Carrie’s choice in dealing with problems; she wasn’t sure she even knew how. She simply nodded and tried to smile. “I-I understand.”

As if a new day had dawned, Jet’s mood changed. She smiled and patted Carrie’s shoulder. “How about tomorrow?”

“That soon?” A shudder passed through Carrie. “But, I thought you said I’d have a month.”

“I meant start working in the garden, you idiot.”

“Oh.” Carrie released a pent up breath, feeling her muscles relax. Her heartbeat slowed. “I misunderstood.”

“Would you rather wait?” Jet tilted her head.

“No! Tomorrow is fine with me.”

* * * * *

Carrie woke to the usual sounds and smells of breakfast being served. She caught a fleeting glimpse of Ogden in the hallway as the guard waddled out of sight It was unusual to see her this early in the morning. Memories of what the day held flooded back and Carrie smiled. Even seeing the wicked witch couldn’t dim her glee. Today began her gardening duties and, more importantly, spending time with Seth.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and noticed a change of clothes folded on the edge of her bunk. It wasn’t laundry exchange day, and the pants and shirt were the wrong color. “Hmm?” She picked them up.

Leaning over the bunk’s edge, she peered down at Jet who was engrossed in a magazine. “Do you have any idea where these clothes came from?” She dangled them in the air.

“Ogden brought them.” Jet’s gaze didn’t stray from her reading material.

“For me?”

“Yes,” Jet slapped her book shut and swiveled around, dropping her feet to the floor. She stood and rested her elbows on the top bunk. “They’re your angel blues. All female trustees on details outside the gates wear them. The men wear black and white stripes. That way, the guards know who to shoot if anyone tries to make a run for it.” Her half chuckle didn’t strike a funny chord with Carrie.

“Have people tried to escape?”

“No one that I know of, but I’m sure some idiot has in the past.” She ducked back onto her bunk. “Actually, wearing a different color shows you’ve achieved a trusted status with the guards. It’s an honor.”

Carrie slid to the floor. “But I haven’t. How will I explain becoming a trustee so fast? There are so many others that have been here longer than I have.”

“No one will question you.” Jet flashed her trademark stare. “I’ll make sure of it. You just need to keep your end of the bargain when the time comes.”

“I will, I will.” Carrie mumbled her vow but doubts lingered in her mind. She’d noticed the blue uniforms on some, but asking about them never seemed important. Right now, Seth was her main focus and he’d better be worth the risk she was taking.

About to change clothes, her attention was drawn to the sound of someone keying open the food slot. The familiar sound of a tray sliding through meant chow time. Carrie turned to see Susanna, and a pang of sadness stabbed at her. “Hi, how’re you doing?”

Susanna’s normally full lips tensed into thinness, and she held her head at a haughty tilt. “I’m fine, thank you.” Her gaze locked on the blue suit Carrie held in her hand.

Carrie tossed the clothing aside, took the offered tray, and moved closer to the bars. “Are you okay? You seem upset.” She spoke in a whisper.

Susanna seemed about to answer when Jet nudged Carrie aside, snapping her fingers. “I’d like my tray today, if you don’t mind.” Her demanding demeanor only sent Susanna’s lips into an almost invisible line as she complied with the rude request.

Jet took her breakfast and perched on the edge of her bunk. “Don’t worry about your friend,” she called out. “Her panties are in a wad because you got blue and she didn’t. Ain’t that right, Susanna?”

Susanna ignored the remark and pushed the warming cart toward the next cell. She glanced back at Carrie. “I’ll see you at rec.”

* * * * *

Carrie stood at the back kitchen door, her palms damp and her heart fluttering. She waited with a similar-clad woman she’d never seen before. “Are you from the east wing?”

The woman stared down an angular nose and nodded, but quickly averted her gaze. Carrie understood. Strangers weren’t to be trusted, but did it hurt to at least smile?

A lump grew in the pit of her stomach. What had she bargained for? She wasn’t even sure Seth would be the guard in charge. She’d been delivered to the waiting area by yet another new matron, with no instructions on what to expect. The turnover in the place seemed constant, and Carrie dared not pursue a conversation with the unfriendly dark-haired inmate. Testing a new guard’s demeanor wasn’t a good idea.

Carrie gazed down at the tennis shoes she’d been given, glad to have her bared toes covered while she worked. Although she could’ve used a size smaller pants and shirt, she felt much prettier in her blue prison garb. Her mouth tasted of toothpaste, and she’d brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She hoped to make a good impression on him. Some lipstick would be nice, but those days were long gone. Au natural was the only look in the place. Being incarcerated had nothing to do with beauty or fashion.