First Degree Innocence (3 page)

“Jet?” Carrie raised her brow.

“Jillian Duke. They call her Jet. She thinks she owns the joint, and likes to flex her muscle for all the newcomers.”

“Is she a body builder or something?”

“No, in this case muscle means control. Just remember what I said. Stay close to me.” Susanna pulled up her blanket and turned to face the wall.

Rec time wasn’t sounding so good. Carrie chewed her bottom lip and glanced around the cell again, looking for something to occupy her time. A book, a magazine, a pamphlet… anything. There was nothing. Susanna’s even breathing told Carrie her bunkmate was already asleep. Using the foot rail, Carrie crawled up to the top and stretched out. A nap sounded like a good idea. At least it was safe… she hoped. She wriggled between the sheets, plumped her makeshift pillow, and exhaled in a sigh. It was so quiet, she heard her own heartbeat.

* * * * *

“What? Who… stop.” Carrie’s brief nap ended with someone jabbing her in the side and calling her name. “Lang, get up. Hit the floor.”

At first she thought it was a dream, but the shouts grew louder and the poking more intense. Peering through squinted eyes, she lifted her head to see four guards standing in the cell. Susanna, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, stood against the wall, still looking half asleep. A uniformed arm reached up and snagged the mesh laundry bag from beneath Carrie’s head and promptly dumped the contents onto the floor. Another hand snatched away the blanket and her top sheet. Her mind spun like a rotor, trying to make sense of the chaos.

Swiveling to dangle her legs over the side, she prepared to get down. Before she could, Ogden grabbed her arm and yanked her with such force that she landed in a heap on the cold cement floor. The woman cackled, standing with hands on hips and feet apart like a member of the Gestapo.

Carrie looked up at the guard with questioning eyes, but her only answer was that annoying slap, slap, slap of Ogden’s baton against her palm. The woman’s lip curled into a sneer. “Thought we’d welcome you with your first contraband search, Lang. Get up and over there against the wall with your ‘cellie’… and strip. You know the drill.”

God, did the cruelty ever end? Carrie eyed the bevy of guards destroying her cell. What contraband could she possibly have hidden? She hadn’t been in the cell for more than a day. They took everything she owned and locked it up when they processed her. How much of this treatment did a person have to bear?

She glanced at her cellmate, heat creeping up her neck. Her blanket heaped at her feet, Susanna stood naked with eyes forward, hands to her sides, her bare feet resting on the pile of clothing she shed. If modest, the woman showed no signs.

“Move it, Lang. We don’t have all day.” A different guard than Ogden poked a baton in the flesh of Carrie’s upper arm.

She wriggled out of the elastic-waist pants, letting them fall. Following Susanna’s lead, she used them as a buffer between her feet and the icy floor, continuing to disrobe. She tried to act natural, but it wasn’t easy with goose bumps and pebbled nipples. Unaccustomed to prying eyes, it took everything she had to keep from shielding her body with her arms. Ogden’s frigid stare made the room seem much colder. Carrie tried to visualize the sandy beaches of Maui, thankful that only female guards had access to the women.

Like a programmed robot, Susanna kicked her clothes out in front of her. Despite wearing gloves, the guard on the other side of her immediately snaked a baton through Susanna’s pants, holding them up as if contaminated. Using two fingers, she shook them, then dropped them back to the floor. She did the same with each of Susanna’s other articles while the other three guards tore the beds apart, went through their toiletries, and scattered belongings across the cell. Letters, stamps, and writing paper flew everywhere.

Mimicking her cellmate, Carrie stepped off her clothing and allowed each piece to be searched. She eyed the socks on the floor, wishing the guard would finish so she could put the anklets back on her frozen feet. Expecting another invasion of her body, her heart raced, but the four officers left her and Susanna standing nude amidst a chaotic mess.

Carrie grabbed her clothes and dressed. As she balanced on one leg to pull on a sock, her gaze moved to Susanna. “Does this happen often?”

“Sometimes they bug us more frequently than others. Whenever they get a hair up their ass to make us miserable, they do a cell check.” Susanna pulled her shirt over her head then flicked her long hair out of the collar. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having someone order me to disrobe, and then leer at me like I’m a piece of meat. What exactly were they looking for?”

“Anything they can use against you.” Susanna knelt to retrieve her personal items. “When I first got here, I managed to smuggle a few smokes out of the kitchen.” She stood, clutching old letters to her bosom like they were written on gold parchment. “Either someone ratted me out or the guard’s timing was impeccable, but no matter, I drew a week in solitary. The time seemed more like a month once I got there, and I vowed I’d never do anything to put me in the hole again.” Susanna bundled her stuff together and tucked it back beneath her mattress.

Solitary? Carrie’s mind flooded with visions of movies where prisoners lay among their own body waste while rats teased them from the corner of a dreary cell. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. “What happens in solitary, or do I want to know?”

Susanna shrugged. “Maybe telling you will scare you enough to keep you from risky behavior.” She paced off a small area. “This is the size of the cell they put you in. There’s nothing in there except a cot and a toilet. I wasn’t even given my toothbrush and paste. They took my clothes and gave me a paper gown to wear, and I wasn’t allowed to shower the entire time. I did get a blanket every night at lights out, but they collected it first thing in the morning after breakfast was served. I didn’t speak to another soul for the duration, and the closest I got to another person was when my meals were shoved through the door. I was warned if I spoke, my time there would double. It wasn’t fun.”

Carrie shook her head. “All that for a few cigarettes? I guess it’s a good thing I don’t smoke.”

“This is a smoke-free environment, but it doesn’t have to be cigarettes. It can be anything you do or say to piss off a guard. Just watch your step.” Susanna ducked her head, remaking her bed. When she finished, she crawled onto her bunk and propped herself against the wall, her knees bent and her arms crossed like she was cold. “Okay, I’m out of your way. It’s your turn. I wonder how those bitches would like it if I tore their beds apart.”

Carrie perched on the bunk’s end rail and flipped the bottom sheet across her mattress. She hunched down to see Susanna. “You think they could at least give us another blanket… or a mattress pad. I wonder how they’d like sleeping on crappy, dirty plastic.”

“The truth, my dear, is that they just don’t give a damn.” Susanna flicked her hand in the air, assuming a haughty pose. “After their shifts are over, the guards go home to their own cozy little beds. They don’t give a shit about your comfort.”

Carrie straightened and grunted in annoyance when the static electricity in the blanket kept the sides adhered to one another. “Damn, I hate this.”

“You might as well get used to it. This is your life, Carrie Lang.”

The idea of an appeal always lingered in the back of her mind, but so did the advice of her counsel when he explained she had a weak defense and could expect the same outcome from a retrial. Any feelings of hope were always washed away by her empty wallet. Private attorneys didn’t come free.

With a sigh, Carrie abandoned the bedding, slid to the floor and crouched next to Susanna’s bunk. “Well, if this is my life, perhaps you’d better tell me more about Jet. I don’t think I can stand anymore surprises.”

Chapter Three

Carrie finished making her bed and crawled onto it. She hung her head over the side, peering in at Susanna, buried in the darkness of her own little cavern. “You seem to know all the quirks in this place. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been here?”

Susanna ran her hands through her hair. “Seems like I’ve been here forever, but it’s only been three years. You might say I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I made the mistake of hooking up with a guy who had a drug problem.”

“That’s too bad. I can’t imagine doing drugs. I don’t even like to take an aspirin.”

“He didn’t just do them.” Susanna chuckled. “He sold them.”

Carrie flinched at her cellmate’s casual attitude. “Did you know—?”

“Of course I knew,” Susanna snapped. “It just didn’t matter to me. I thought he was the love of my life. But when the cops raided our apartment, he so gallantly pointed the finger at me and said I was the one dealing.” Bitterness accented her every word.

“That just sucks. Couldn’t you prove differently?”

Susanna rolled her eyes. “It didn’t matter. I was an accessory and, as far as the judge was concerned, as guilty as Doug. I only wish I could forget the look on his face when I testified against him.” She released a long exhalation. “Can you believe I still cared about him after what he did?”

“It appears we both got screwed. I still can’t believe I’m in prison.” The blood rushing to her hanging head made Carrie dizzy. She sat up, plumped her laundry bag, then curled into a fetal position and settled onto the mesh pillow.

“What did you do to attract the long arm of the law?” Susanna’s voice drifted from below.

Carrie sighed. “Maybe you’ll be the one person who believes it wasn’t me driving the getaway car.”

“I took the day off from work because I had horrible cramps.” The fateful day replayed itself in her mind as she told the story one more time. “Dr. Phil had just come on TV and I was minding my own business, curled up on the couch with a heating pad. All of a sudden someone pounded on the door, and when I answered, a guy in a suit standing in front of two uniformed officers, shoved a piece of paper in my face and stormed inside. It was a warrant for my arrest.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t even have a chance to change my tampon before they handcuffed me then made me sit and watch while they tore up my apartment, looking for the stolen bank money. I hadn’t a clue what they were talking about.”

“So then what happened?” Susanna pressed.

“Of course they didn’t find any cash because there wasn’t any, at least other than the few measly bucks in my purse. I couldn’t make them believe I had nothing to do with robbing a bank.”

“How come they thought it was you?”

“To make a long, sad story short, I live alone and had no one to swear to my whereabouts. The only thing my boss was able to tell them was that I called in sick. A supposed eye witness reported a description matching mine and, unfortunately for me, a car identical to the one I drive. Bank security footage had a foggy image of a woman behind the wheel, and I couldn’t convince them it wasn’t me.” The old frustration welled Carrie’s eyes with tears. She wiped them on her sleeve.

Susanna appeared at eye level. “Shit! That must have been horrible for you.”

“You have no idea. Sitting in that courtroom and listening to the state’s attorney convince twelve people who didn’t know me from Adam that I was a felon… It was the most frustrating thing I’ve ever been through. Knowing my innocence, I never in a million years thought they would believe him… at least I prayed they wouldn’t.”

“Was your car traced to the scene?”

“No. I told you I was at home. My car was parked right in front of my apartment all day, and I’m the only one who has a key. If anybody from the building noticed, they refused to get involved. The man who testified against me only remembered the first letter of the license. Of course it had to be the same as mine. But how many friggin’ cars have M on their plate? You see why I thought I would never get convicted on such flimsy evidence?”

“You must have hired a pretty crummy lawyer to end up here for such a petty charge.” Susanna made a clucking noise with her tongue.

“It might have been a petty charge if a bank guard hadn’t lost his life in the process. And as to my attorney…I didn’t have the money, so the court appointed one. I would have fared just as well on my own. It took every penny I had in savings to bail myself out of jail between the time I was arrested and tried.”

“Couldn’t someone have helped you?”

“Who? I don’t have anyone. I haven’t lived here long enough to make friends, other than the people I work with on a daily basis. But I swear to you, Susanna, on my mother’s grave, I really am innocent.”

Before Susanna could ask any more questions, an unfamiliar guard appeared at the cell door. “Okay, ladies, time for rec.” The thin, red-headed woman glanced at her wristwatch. “Enjoy your two hours.” The sentiment was friendly but her tone wasn’t.

Her key clicked the lock and she swung the door wide. “Show your new friend to our playroom.” She sneered at Susanna.

Carrie was about to pass on the outing when Susanna gestured. “C’mon. It’ll do you good to get some fresh air.”

That did sound inviting. Clambering down from the bunk, Carrie stepped into her shoes and followed closely behind. When she caught up with Susanna in the hall, she tapped her on the shoulder. “What about that… that…Jet person?” she whispered.

Susanna patted her hand. “You’re with me. Her MO is to divide and conquer, so stay close like I warned you. You’ll be fine.”

The freckled-faced guard unlocked the recreation room door and let them inside. The place was large with vaulted ceilings, a shiny cement floor and tables lining three cinderblock walls. The smell of Pinesol hung heavy in the air. Nearby, a pair played dominos, while across the room a foursome played cards. At the far end, a row of lounge chairs held inmates engaged in reading. A cart filled with books sat nearby. Six more identical seats held orange-clad prisoners engrossed in a familiar soap opera, but immediately all eyes focused on Carrie. It was like being back on the witness stand. Their curiosity satisfied, the inmates went back to what they were doing.