First Degree Innocence (8 page)

“Hey, you.”

Her gaze snapped around at the familiar voice. Those same haunting eyes stared through the fence at her.

“Hi…hello… ah…” Her cheeks warmed at her inability to respond to a simple greeting, while her heart pounded out a new rhythm.

“I wondered if you’d be here.” The timbre of his voice shivered through her. “I’ve checked a few times before, but you didn’t come back. I didn’t get your name when we last spoke.”

“Carrie. My name is Carrie Lang.” She grimaced. Her answer sounded like a response to roll call.

“Nice to meet you, Carrie Lang. I’m Seth Martin. You didn’t get into trouble last time, did you? For being late, I mean?” He hunkered down, leaning forward on one knee.

Despite wearing a uniform reminiscent of her unpleasant encounters, his smile seemed genuine. She allowed herself to relax. “No. Thanks to you, I got back just in time. What made you want to save me?”

“I wondered the same thing afterwards. You just looked like a lost little girl that needed some help.”

That was it? She reminded him of a child who’d lost its mother? Her body stiffened. “Well thank you very much, but in the future, you can save your pity for someone else.” She turned, deciding which way to flee.

“Wait. I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just trying to say it was uncharacteristic of me to even speak to a female inmate. I can get into just as much trouble as you for fraternization.”

“Is that what this is?” She faced him, unable to get past his previous demeaning remark.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, now I’ve made you mad or hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. Would I have stolen back out here to see you again if…”

“If what?”

One lid over an azure eye dropped into a lingering wink. “If I didn’t like you.” He swiped at his forehead, pushing back a lock of dark hair. “Oh, brother, that sounds stupid. I don’t even know you.”

“It didn’t sound stupid. I think I understand exactly how you feel. I’ve been thinking…” She heard voices from somewhere.

“I probably need to have my head examined for being here.” He lowered his voice and glanced nervously over his shoulder. “I can’t stay. I have to get back to my duties, but I’ll try to see you again. I’m off tomorrow, but maybe the day after.”

“I’ll be here.” Carrie swallowed her excitement and tried to sound casual.

He walked away, leaving her to admire how his navy blue pants clung to a shapely backside. His well-muscled legs crossed the men’s rec yard in long strides. He turned for a brief moment and waved before going inside.

Her heart fluttered and she finally exhaled. What had come over her? She’d never lusted after a man before.

“Carrie, what’re you doing over there?” Susanna’s voice sounded from behind and made Carrie’s heart leap into her throat.

She swallowed hard and patted her pounding heart, then turned. “Just getting a breath of fresh air and enjoying the scenery.” If only her cellmate knew how much she had enjoyed the view she’d just seen.

“Wanna come in and play a few hands of bridge?”

“Sure.” A smile spread across Carrie’s face that had nothing to do with cards. “If I didn’t like you,” she repeated beneath her breath, as she crossed the compound. Hope blossomed inside her.

Once inside, her thoughts filled with the day after tomorrow as she shivered under a blast of air conditioning against her heated skin. She imagined Seth’s arms holding her until she warmed, knowing it was nothing more than a ridiculous dream. At least no one could confiscate it from her.

She pulled out a chair across from Susanna and sat. Taking the cards already dealt, she fanned them out in her hand.

Susanna eyed her with a questioning tilt to her head. “What happened to you? You have a certain glow going on.”

Carrie concentrated on her cards. “Just the sun, I imagine.”

“I don’t think so. C’mon girl, give it up.”

Carrie pretended to be surprised. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about, do you Di?” Carrie smiled to the woman on her left. She glanced to the right, folding her cards together. “How about you, Ruthie, do you think I’m glowing?”

“Are we gonna discuss suntans or are we gonna play?” Ruthie asked, her fingertips drumming on the table.

“We’re going to play.” Carrie splayed her cards back into a fan. “I’ll bid two clubs.”

They’d only finished the second deal when Carrie felt a tap on her shoulder. “How’s it going?”

She craned her neck upward at Jet. “Just fine, thanks. I’d ask you to play but we already have a foursome.”

“That’s okay. I’ve never been one for playing games.”

Carrie fought to keep from busting into guffaws. That was the biggest lie she’d ever heard. Not one for playing games? Card games maybe, but Jet certainly knew all about head games. But Carrie kept her comments to herself. There was no use getting off on a bad foot with a new cellmate. “Pity, bridge is a fun game except when you’re the dummy.” She just couldn’t resist an attempt at sarcasm, but Jet remained unfazed.

“Well, girls, I guess you heard the news.” She addressed the three at the table with Carrie, then glanced at Franny, Helen and Celia, watching from an adjacent bench. They all stared at her with wide eyes.

“What news?” Ruthie’s tongue habitually poked through the space where a tooth was missing. She looked at Jet with a raised brow.

“Lang’s coming to C Block on Friday. She’s gonna be my new cellie.”

“How’d that happen?” Franny asked, the tenseness in her jaw stretching her pocked skin.

Jet buffed her nails against her chest. “I called in a favor. My bunkmate is being transferred to another state, so I thought Lang might be a nice replacement.”

“Why Carrie?” Susanna’s brow furrowed. “You know she gets along fine with me.”

“If I don’t pick my roommate, I have to take who they give me. It’s nothing personal. I just thought I might be compatible with Lang. Don’t get all bent out of shape over it.”

Susanna’s lips stretched into a thin line and she stared at her cards. The conversation made Carrie jittery.

Her gaze bounced from each of her friends. “It’s not so bad.” She searched their faces. “We’ll still share the same recreation time and be able to hang out. I’ll just be sleeping in a different bunk, that’s all.”

“See, girls, even Lang isn’t upset about the move.” Jet patted Carrie on the shoulder. “See you on Friday, roomie. I’ve got to get some fresh air before it’s time to go back up.”

Jet had barely walked away when Susanna slapped her cards down on the table. “Ohhhh, that woman! She could have picked anyone else in this whole place, but she wants to make my life miserable and she’s doing it through you, Carrie. She knows I enjoy having you in my cell, and she’s bound to change that. I just can’t figure out what she has to gain.”

“What makes you think it’s about you?” Carrie asked. Susanna’s suspicions came as a surprise.

“It’s a whole bunch of little things. Nothing I can really put my finger on, but I truly believe she’s the one who got me assigned to the kitchen. I do know for a fact that right after I got here, she set me up by planting a shiv in my cell.”

“What’s that?” Carrie had never heard the term.

“A homemade knife. This one was a toothbrush that someone had sharpened to a fine point and wrapped with string. It was definitely designed with two goals in mind, oral hygiene and bodily harm.”

“So what happened?”

“LOP.”

“And that’s…”

“Loss of privileges. I was denied rec for a month.”

“I guess it could have been worse.” Carrie patted her friend’s hand. “But how do you know it was Jet?”

Susanna’s gaze fell. “I guess I don’t know for sure, but I can’t think of anyone else.”

“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t spread your allegations around. I’m not Jet’s biggest fan, but I really think people should have irrefutable evidence before they make accusations. If that was the case, I wouldn’t even be here in the middle of this mess.” Carrie’s words did little to calm the edginess tingling through her. Being Jet’s cellmate held no appeal, whatsoever.

Chapter Eight

Carrie woke to the cell door clanking shut. She rolled to the edge of her bunk and peeked over. As suspected, Susanna was gone. She’d left for breakfast duty.

Remembering it was Friday, Carrie grimaced and buried her face in the crook of her arm. Ogden’s ugly face was due any time now, and she’d expect Carrie to be ready to go. She clambered down and tiptoed across the icy floor to the toilet, longing for something as simple as a throw rug. Sitting on stainless steel scattered goose bumps across her arms. She braced herself against the chill and waited for the never-ending urine stream to cease. Finally, she patted herself dry, perturbed at the tissue’s roughness. It didn’t even measure up to the cheap one-ply she used at home. The prison brand was just a step up from splinters. But it made sense. Why waste comfort and frills on inmates?

She stood and flushed, watching the swirling water weave its way down the bowl. For a moment she envied all those dead goldfish she and her mother had launched into eternity via the sewer. Wherever those dead pets ended up had to be better than this dump.

After brushing her teeth, Carrie pulled a change of clothing from her laundry bag. Like the rest of the gals, she’d taken to calling her wardrobe “orange peels” for obvious reasons. The color had never been her favorite crayon, and now it never would be. She glanced in the distorted mirror over the sink and frowned at how the fruity hue of the top drained any trace of color from her cheeks.

Once fully dressed, she stood on the bottom rail, dissembled her bed, and wrapped all her belongings inside her sheet. She’d planned on taking a shower, but that could wait. There was no need to smell sweet and clean just to remake a bunk, and, of course, she’d rank the upper again. Being on the top one had lost its childhood appeal, but at least she’d learned to sleep without fear of rolling off.

She perched on the bottom bunk, waiting for Ogden to escort her to Jet’s cell. Mimicking a bobble head doll she’d once seen in a novelty shop, she rehearsed the feigned smile and agreeable nod she planned to use for the guard’s benefit. Inside Carrie’s blood edged on boiling.

Prison thrived on unfairness. Her mother’s words echoed in Carrie’s head—the phrase quoted right before disappointing news. “Sometimes you have to make the best of things.”

Carrie chewed a nail, trying to see the logic in it. Lemons to lemonade, a silk purse out of a sow’s ear… the truth will set you free…. Who came up with this crap? Her musing stopped when the main corridor’s cell door squealed on its hinges, announcing someone’s approach. Carrie squared her shoulders, wishing Jet had picked anyone else to be her cellmate.

Ogden stuck her nose between the bars. “Well, looks like we’re all ready to go.”

The woman’s taunting voice could peel paper off a wall. Carrie almost laughed aloud at the image of having wall décor in such a dismal place. A little floral print and a matching border would certainly sparkle up the joint.

“Where have you been? I’m excited to see my new cell.” She had no intention of letting Ogden see her fear. Feeling akin to a hobo, Carrie slung her belongings over her shoulder and slogged through the open cell door into the hallway.

Another guard waited along the cinder block wall. Her hand grasped her baton as if she prepared to draw down on Wyatt Earp.

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Relax, you’re not dealing with Charles Manson here. I’m no threat, believe me.”

The woman’s nametag bore the moniker, Matron Barton. With a nod of her head, she instructed Carrie to follow Ogden.

Falling into step behind the guard, Carrie chuckled at her comparison to a mass murderer, but did feel a tad dangerous at the need for two people to guard her. She stood tall as they passed all the curious faces pressed against the bars and flashed a peace sign to those she knew.

Once in C Block, she spied Jet lounging on the bottom bunk as predicted; lower bunks were like prime real estate. When the door squealed open, Jet glanced up from her magazine and smiled. “Hey, cellie. Welcome to my world.”

A shiver tingled down Carrie’s spine. “Thanks.” It was all she could think to say, although a far cry from what she thought. What lay in store for her in Jet’s world? Carrie had no clue.

The cell door slammed behind her, and she hefted her pack onto the top mattress. She took a deep breath, rested her elbows against the bed and ran her fingers along her rigid neck muscles. Her gaze roamed the ten-by-twelve enclosure.

The number of personal photos taped to the wall surprised her. Regulations dictated that inmates have no more than three, but it appeared Jet displayed an album. Brand-name personal care products lined the back of the toilet and sink. Clearly, another breach of the rules. None of them were acquired through the prison commissary. Stepping back, Carrie took stock of Jet’s accommodations. She swallowed her disbelief. “A pillow? You have a pillow? How?”

Jet tossed her reading material aside and propped herself up. “Christ, you act like it’s a big deal. You want one?” She reached around and tossed an extra to Carrie.

Carrie crushed the downy softness to her chest and sighed. “Oh, my gosh, I never thought I’d be so thankful for something so simple.” She felt like a child at Christmas, and Santa had just given her the world’s most sought-after toy.

“I’ll have Ogden get you a clean case for it.”

Holding it to her nose, Carrie inhaled the mingled aroma of fragrant shampoo and cologne—a far cry from the acrid bleach smell that she’d become accustomed to on her sheets. About to protest the need for a clean cover, she closed her mouth. The thought of Ogden having to fetch it made Carrie smile. So far, Jet’s world seemed to offer much more than what she’d witnessed elsewhere, but Jet still hadn’t answered her question.