First Degree Innocence (13 page)

Carrie leapt to her feet. “But even you said your brother dealt drugs. You can’t blame Susanna because she didn’t want to take the fall for him. He made the decision to break the law, not her. In fact, she told me how much she loved him until he tried to make it look like she was the guilty one.”

The point she’d missed in Jet’s tale hit Carrie like a lightning bolt. She covered her mouth to stifle her gasp and cast wide eyes at Jet. “Susanna doesn’t know she was living with your brother, does she?”

Jet nodded. “No! And you aren’t gonna tell her.”

“But why me? You and Susanna were inmates together long before I came along. Why didn’t you take care of things yourself?” Carrie searched Jet’s eyes for a glint of compassion, but saw nothing but ice. “I shouldn’t have to get involved in your vengeance.”

“Why would I want to add to my sentence? I’m worked out the perfect plan that leaves my hands clean—at least from all appearances.” She chuckled.

Tears blurred Carrie’s vision. She pressed her palms together and placed them beneath her chin. “You can’t ask me to do this. Please, don’t make me.”

“Too late, Lang. The wheels are already in motion. You’ll be switching cells in the next day or so, and I’ll provide the little gift you’re going to give your friend… of course, she won’t know about it right away.” Jet’s evil cackle bounced off the walls and chilled Carrie to the bone.

Chapter Fourteen

Carrie shivered beneath the thin prison blanket, unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, she thought only of Jet’s plan to frame Susanna. Questions whirred in her mind. What did Jet hope to achieve? What was the price for concealing a weapon? A week in solitary? A month? Would that be the pound of flesh to even the score? Even if Carrie played a minor role, Susanna was sure to find out. Then what? Would she revert to blackmailing Carrie to exert revenge on Jet?

Wasn’t being in prison punishment enough? Did she have to get caught in a battle that didn’t concern her? Hugging her knees to her chest, Carrie summoned thoughts of Seth. Maybe she should tell him—seek his help. Tears stung the back of her eyes. But he was a guard. How did she know if she could trust him? Confusion gnawed at her and she rolled over again.

“For God’s sake, Lang, stop rocking the damn bunk.” Jet’s voice startled Carrie.

“Sorry. I—”

“Don’t apologize, just go to sleep. I’m getting seasick down here. What’s your problem anyhow?”

As if Jet didn’t know. Anger fired Carrie’s blood. How in the heck could her cellmate sleep? Didn’t the woman have a conscience? Not likely. Afraid to voice her opinion, Carrie swallowed the words she really wanted to say. “Just having a bout of insomnia, I guess.”

“Are you sure it isn’t bad dreams keeping you awake?” Jet cackled. “I can’t wait to see the look on Crane’s face when she’s busted.”

Ire overcame Carrie’s fear of Jet. “Just shut up about it. It’s bad enough I’ve agreed to something so underhanded, I don’t need to keep hearing you gloat.”

Silence ensued. Carrie chewed her lip, fearing she’d overstepped a boundary. She froze in place, afraid to move and rumble the bed again. Waiting, she prepared to be chastised, but instead felt the bunk sway and heard the sigh of comfort released by someone snuggling down, preparing for sleep. Anticipation kept her uneasy, but within a few moments, she heard Jet’s soft snores.

Carrie rolled softly to her back and stared at the vertical shadows the bars cast on the ceiling. Her temples throbbed from stress. She had two choices: do what Jet wanted and feign ignorance, or warn Susanna and do nothing at all. She preferred the second option, but then the price to pay would be hers. Jet wasn’t someone you crossed without some sort of penalty. The woman obviously had connections reaching far beyond the guards. Tears of frustration trickled down the side of Carrie’s face. God, what was she going to do?

* * * * *

Carrie gathered with her friends during recreation at their usual table. The others chattered away, but she couldn’t muster up anything to say. Her nerves churned a river of nausea in her stomach. Already she felt like a traitor. Even though Jet sat across the room, holding an open book, her occasional burning glare served as a reminder of her power.

Susanna dealt cards for a hand of bridge, but stopped before finishing. “Carrie, is something wrong? You aren’t yourself today. Did something happen with Seth?”

Carrie shook her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just have a pounding headache.” She fanned out the cards dealt her, then collapsed them and slapped her stack back on the table. “Would you mind if I passed on playing?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not much in the mood for a game myself.” She gathered the cards into a pile and pushed them over to Franny. Susanna stood. “Carrie, wanna watch some TV?”

Fearing spending alone time with Susanna, Carrie cast a wary glance at Jet. That headache she’d faked earlier now pounded with a vengeance. She rose. “No thanks. I think I’ll step out for a breath of air.”

“Brave girl, it’s chilly out there.” Susanna smiled. “But I suppose you hope you’ll find something … or someone … and warm right up.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes then walked toward the door considering Susanna’s words. Seth hadn’t even entered Carrie’s mind until now. Small chance he’d be outside if he needn’t be.

She pulled her jacket tight and pushed open the door. A chilly blast greeted her, but felt refreshing. Gone were the stale odors of mingled inmates, old books, and the musty floorboards of the rec room. She closed her eyes, inhaled, then visualized her slow breath exhaled in a space not confined by bars or steel and barbed wire.

Carrie crossed her arms against the cold and strolled to the fence. She rested her forehead against an icy chain link and stared through the octagon design. Gone were the rows of cornstalks that earlier in the year filled the far furrows of the garden. The remaining plants were sparse and low-growing—ones that could be covered to protect them from the elements. How she wished for something to protect her.

“Hey there.” A voice called out.

She looked to the left, inside the doorway of the gardening shed just outside the fence. Seth!

“Don’t look at me,” he instructed. “I don’t think the tower guards know I’m in here.”

“Okay.” She kept her gaze forward.

“I hoped you’d come outside, but I wasn’t sure you’d brave the cold.”

She focused far beyond the garden, to the vast empty land and what appeared to be a highway. Funny, she’d never noticed it before. She strained her eyes, leaning harder against the fence, and watched a myriad of colors darting along the horizon; cars turned by distance into tiny toy-like vehicles.

“You’re being awfully quiet.” His voice drew her thoughts back behind the fence.

“I just noticed a road out there.”

“Yeah, that’s the interstate.”

She sighed. “I wish I was out there on it … heading far away from this hellhole.”

“Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

She stuffed her chilled hands into her pockets and made a half turn, still averting her gaze from him. “How can you tell?”

“Your voice … or the imprint of the fence on your forehead.” He chuckled.

She rubbed the indention and smiled. His humor warmed her. “I’m just having a bad day, I reckon.” Above her, guards moved about in a turret. A huge raven landed atop the domed roof and flapped his wings, mocking her with his freedom.

Carrie wanted to spill the whole story and beg for his help, but suspicion niggled at her. She still hadn’t made sense of why a guard would take an interest in one inmate. What did he hope to gain from an incarcerated woman? Despite her attraction to him, a big question mark hung over his head. She craved trust, but a little voice kept asking the same question over and over: Does he play a part in Jet’s conspiracy? Much more evidence supported that theory than the fact he found Carrie interesting enough to risk his career. Maybe she couldn’t ask him for help, but there was one thing she really wanted to know.

“What prompted you to tell your friend about me?” Feeling the chill through her thin coat, she rocked back and forth on her heels.

“I believe he may be able to help you. You still maintain that you’re innocent, don’t you?”

A gusty breeze whipped by. She hunched and shivered. “Of course, I’m innocent, but then I suppose you hear that more times than you can count.”

Seth covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. “That’s for sure.” His voice turned sober. “But for some reason, I believe you.”

“I hope you do, because I’m telling the truth. I had nothing to do with robbing a bank.”

He glanced at his watch. “You’d better get back inside. Rec is almost over.”

Maybe he did care about her. Did she dare believe that? She hiked her jacket up higher on her neck and turned. “Thanks.” She resisted a backwards glance. “The last thing I need is to lose my privilege to free time again.” She scurried for the door and warmth.

“See you tomorrow in the garden.” He called after her.

* * * * *

Carrie’s stomach churned. Her hatred at sharing Jet’s space increased with every step closer to the cell. How could that bitch ask her to betray Susanna after they’d become such good friends? More bothersome, how could Carrie entertain the idea of going through with such a betrayal?

Lost in thought, she started when the guard gave her a push. “Wake up, Lang. You’re home.” The door slid open with a squeal.

“Sorry,” she muttered, tamping down the urge to shove the woman back. Would the resulting punishment be more than Carrie already bore?

Jet sauntered in behind her, and the closing door sealed them inside. After stretching out on her bed, Jet, with hands clasped behind her head, cast a steely gaze at Carrie. “How are your little buddies? I noticed you didn’t hang around them much.”

“They’re fine.” Carrie climbed up on her bunk.

“Where’d you go?”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “I don’t feel much like playing twenty questions with you. I’m tired, and I really would like to go to sleep.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry. I just want to wake up and find out ten years has passed.”

“Fine.” Jet sounded perturbed. “I’d rather catch up on celebrity news anyhow.” Paper fluttered, indicating she opened one of her magazines. “Did you know that Paul Newman died?”

“Yes, I heard.” The peace and quiet Carrie craved evidently wasn’t meant to be, but there was no sense in causing an argument. Besides, talking about Hollywood was much better than the alternative. She hung over the bunk’s side and peered down at Jet. “He was one of my favorite actors. I loved him in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

Jet nodded. “Yeah, but I’d rather screw Robert Redford any day.”

Leave it to Jet to take a simple conversation and turn it into something nasty. Carrie rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Maybe if she stayed perfectly still, Jet would be quiet. Carrie closed her eyes and willed sleep to come. Dinner’s aroma drifting down the hallway made her stomach rumble. Maybe she’d eat first.

* * * * *

“You asleep, Lang?” Jet’s voice sliced the silence.

Curled into a ball, Carrie lay perfectly still—not an easy fete since dinner didn’t set well on her stomach. She’d never really cared much for what people called, shit on a shingle, but she ate most of it out of pure hunger. Still, she pretended to sleep, avoiding the conversation she dreaded—the one that set her schedule for betraying her friend.

“Lang, wake up.”

Evidently, Jet meant to have the discussion. Putting it off one more night seemed senseless since it would surely be the topic over breakfast. Carrie rolled to her other side and stared at the shadowed cement wall. “Okay, okay, I’m awake. What do you want?” Her attempt to mimic someone just dragged from sleep sounded convincing.

“I need to make sure you understand what you have to do. The cell reassignment might take place as early as tomorrow, so we need to talk now.”

Carrie stiffened but said nothing.

“I’ve already hidden a shiv in your laundry bag… actually a knife I got out of the kitchen—”

“But what if they check my belongings?” Panic welled in Carrie’s throat.

“Don’t worry, they won’t. I’ve got connections, remember?” Jet sounded smug. “You know what you have to do once you get there, right?”

Carrie rolled over and sighed. “What if I can’t go through with this?”

Shivering the bunks, Jet bounded to her feet and glared at Carrie. Even in the shadowy light of the cell, her ebony eyes looked threatening. “You have no choice. Betray me and I’ll make you sorrier than you already are.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Lang, get your stuff ready.” A guard’s voice boomed through the wall speaker. “A matron will be there soon to escort you to your new cell.”

Huddled on the corner of Jet’s mattress with her breakfast tray on her lap, Carrie stared down at the runny eggs and cringed. A scream welled in her throat. Not yet, she couldn’t go now. She wasn’t ready—never would be.

She cast a pleading gaze at Jet. “Don’t make me do this. I beg you. Susanna is my friend.”

“Yeah, well blood is thicker than water and she’s gonna pay for what she did to my brother.” Jet kicked her own tray up against the cell door for pickup. “Eat up. Ogden will be here anytime.”

Her appetite quashed, Carrie placed her unfinished breakfast tray atop Jet’s empty one. She mentally chanted a mantra of strength, then squaring her shoulders, turned and faced her cellmate. “I won’t frame Susanna for you, and you can’t make me.”

“Oh, can’t I?” Jet picked at her nails. “Never underestimate me.”

Anger first Carrie’s blood and she fisted her hands at her sides. “It’s not fair to drag me into your fight. Don’t you have a conscience at all?”