Caged

by Shanna Ehrlich

  “Can you tell viewers how he died?”

  “He was found beaten, sexually assaulted and stabbed six times in the upper back. We immediately transferred him to the medic ward, but before we could move him to a hospital, he was pronounced dead.”

  “Do you have any leads on who may have done this?”

  “Our best guess is a rival gang. I’m not an expert on gang traditions, but his murder shows signs of being a traitor, hence the stab wounds on the back. He possibly could have broken an alliance outside of the Em Oh Three. However, male on male rape is also a sign of jumping someone out of a gang, so it could have been an inside job as well. It’s all speculation at this point. All we know is that it was done by multiple people; you don’t take a man out like Colton King single handedly.”

  “And if it wasn’t an inside job, if it was another gang…” she left her question open ended.

  “Then I’d say the Em Oh Three will likely be preparing for war.”

  “And what does that mean for Attica? For New York City?”

  “No comment Miss Cruz. As I said before, it’s all speculation.”

  “Well you heard it here first. Thank you Superintendent Arts for agreeing to speak on the prison’s behalf. We will continue to bring you breaking news as the case unfolds. This is Kari Cruz with CBS signing off.”

  Bruce cut the camera and brought it over to the van while Arts removed his lavalier.

  “What the fuck was that?” Kari asked. “I thought we had a deal.”

  “We do have a deal. I get to run the story how I see fit. I’m not about to tell all of New York that I think they should board up their houses and hide.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I see a lot of gang on gang retaliation until this is figured out. And when we find out what gang committed the murder it will be even worse.” He handed Kari the mic and started toward the building, but then stopped and turned back. “I can’t always be your source Miss Cruz. The next time we meet won’t be in front of my prison and I expect to be anonymous.”

  “Well where should we meet then?”

  “Don’t play the innocent card with me now. I’m sure you’ll think of somewhere, and if you want the information bad enough, you’ll do whatever you need to do to get the story.”

  Was he insinuating what she thought he was? “Are you blackmailing me Mr. Arts?”

  “Not blackmailing, just being honest,” he winked and walked away, leaving her standing open mouthed and gawking after him.

  Keith came home from his morning run sweating and breathless. It was mid June in Arizona and running outdoors was a bitch, but he preferred the city surroundings to those of a gym.

  Bracing his hands on his knees, he took several deep breaths. He went hard this morning, harder than usual. The case was stressing him out. Three weeks in and he was no closer to figuring out the truth. It was something he didn’t usually want to know. He didn’t care if his client was innocent or not, everyone needs equal representation, but this case was different. All the evidence pointed to guilty, almost too much, and his client swore up and down he didn’t do it, but didn’t have any memory of the night to help him find out who did. It’s hard to work on a case when there’s no second side. All Keith had to go off of were the facts given to him by the DA, which were fucking worthless.

  He closed the front door and toed off his running shoes, walking through the house in sweaty socks. Annabel hated shoes in the house, but he doubted his wet socks were much better.

  He flipped on the small, wall-mounted TV as he entered the kitchen and the CNN newscast filled the screen. It was part of their everyday ritual. He’d go for a run while she showered and got ready for work. Then, when he returned home, he’d watch the news while making them breakfast. Today was no different. He washed his hands and then took out the carton of eggs from the fridge; cracking four into a pan and let them simmer on the stove. Walking over to the toaster, he placed four pieces of bread into the slots and pressed down the black button.

  The TV was nearby and he leaned over to turn up the volume; a young girl he didn’t recognize graced the screen in front of a prison building. Standing still he watched the newscast until he heard the eggs sizzling.

  “Shit,” he cursed and ran over to flip them.

  “You burning breakfast babe? That’s not like you.” Annabel walked over placing a quick peck on his lips before topping off her cup of coffee.

  “Never,” he jokingly scoffed. “Are you doubting my chef skills now that you’re used to fancy New York cuisine?”

  She laughed, shaking her head and took a seat on one of the wooden, island stools. After another large gulp of coffee, she set the mug down on the marble counter top. “So what had you so captivated that you almost burnt my eggs?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he turned to the TV but CNN had switched to a new story. “Apparently this New York mobster was murdered this morning.”

  The blood drained from Annabel’s face. “What?” she reached for the remote, laying in the center of the island and switched through broadcasts, frantically trying to find the report again. “What’d it say? What was his name?”

  “I don’t know. I caught it in the middle of the report. I didn’t realize you were going to have a heart attack over some mobster shanked out at Attica or I would have made sure to write down the details.”

  Annabel let out a breath and her hand fell from where it gripped her chest. “I wasn’t freaking out. Why would I care?” She stood from the stool, leaving her coffee cup stranded on the counter as she walked back upstairs.

  Her actions weirded him out more than her words, but she’d been acting strange ever since she came home from New York a couple weeks ago. He was almost used to it by now.

  Keith drove to the county jail and parked his Lexus in the parking garage. He walked briefcase in one hand and a dry cleaned suit in the other for two blocks before arriving at the side staff entrance. Parking in Downtown Phoenix sucked and his pressed suit was now wet with sweat and uncomfortably sticking to his body.

  Feeling around in his pocket he searched for his key card when the door opened from within. A man emerged, putting on a pair of Ray Bans and held the door for him. They didn’t speak one word, but Keith found himself turning back to watch the man walk away.

  When he stepped inside, the door closed behind him and he was met with the dim florescent lighting of the jailhouse and the security check in desk.

  “Back again Keith?” Peggy greeted pleasantly from behind the desk.

  “Yes ma’am. Just need to talk to my client once more before his bail hearing this afternoon.”

  “Well you know the drill,” she pushed forward a clipboard with the form he needed to fill out each time he walked through the double steel doors. “Your guy’s been busy this morning. He just met with the gentleman who walked out as you were coming in.”

  “He did?” Keith was confused. That guy looked like a lawyer. An expensive one. He better not be getting replaced. Especially not after all the work he’s put in. “Who was that guy?”

  “A private investigator I think,” Peggy said with a shrug.

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Keith, you know I can’t give out that information.”

  “Peggy, that hurts my heart. How long have we known each other? You know I’d never sell you out. I’d miss looking at your pretty face too much.”

  Peggy looked down and blushed. Her red, straight hair falling in front of her cheeks so only her freckled nose stuck out.

  “Hey,” he placed a thumb under her chin and lifted it slightly. “Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You know I’m a sweet talker, but I wouldn’t hold it against you if you said no.”

  She looked up and met his eyes. “I’m sorry Keith, I can’t. I could get fired for sharing visitor information without a warrant.”

  “Okay. I understand.” And he did. He knew from the beginning she wasn’t supp
osed to give him information on personal inmate visits, but didn’t think it would hurt to ask.

  Peggy removed the page he filled out from the clipboard and stuck it in the time stamp machine before adding it to the visitor log binder. “Wait, Keith, you forgot a signature.”

  No he didn’t. There was only one signature line and he remembered signing.

  She lifted the book onto the counter and then bent down, searching for something in her purse. He didn’t know what she was talking about. His signature was right there. Were these new forms? Did they add a signature line to the back? Turning the page he found the back blank, but then noticed the page behind his. Same client name. Jason Polls. The visitor was noted as Carter Young. No company name listed. He quickly turned back to his page, pretended to sign and then handed the book to Penny right as she sat back up, bringing a piece of gum to her mouth.

  Keith stood in the private room, waiting for Jason to arrive. Pushing the sleeves of his white dress shirt to his elbows, he leaned against the cool wall. On his cell phone he searched the name Carter Young. The first thing to come up was a collections agency, then a page about President Carter and after that, one hundred thousand other hits. Keith grunted and then tried to specify his search. Next he put in “Carter Young” and “Phoenix”, but the only thing remotely matching his search was a LinkedIn account for a Presentation Manager at PetsMart. Somehow he doubted that was the same guy.

  Jason walked in with two guards behind him and Keith was quick to pocket his phone. The guards sat Jason at the metal table in the center of the small room and Keith had them unlock the cuffs that banded his wrists before they left the room.

  “How you doing kid?” Jason was twenty years old, not nearly a kid and yet the term of endearment stuck. Keith referred to him as kid every time he saw him. It had something to do with his scared and timid nature. He didn’t belong in jail. This place would eat him alive if he had to stay much longer.

  “I’m okay. Looking forward to getting out of here today.”

  “I’m looking forward to getting you out. I brought you a suit. You should change before they take you to the courthouse. It will help. It’s not the fancy suits you’re used to, but I did that on purpose. We don’t want the judge seeing you as some little rich kid and setting the bail any higher than it’s already going to be.”

  “You think he’s going to let me out? What if I don’t make bail? Would I have to stay here? I can’t be here much longer. The guards don’t give a shit about us.” The way he winced in his chair Keith could tell something wasn’t right.

  “What’s going on Jason? Are they hurting you in there?”

  Jason shook his head.

  “Is it the guards? The other inmates? You need to tell me. I can make it stop.”

  “I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me if I snitch.”

  “Snitch about what? Are you having memories? Do you remember what happened?”

  He shook his head again.

  He was shutting down. This happened every time. Keith knew better than to keep pursuing. “I heard you had a visitor today.”

  Jason looked up and nodded.

  “Care to tell me who?”

  “This private investigator my dad wants to hire. He wanted me to meet with him first to see what I thought.”

  “And? What’d you think?”

  “I don’t know. He seems good.”

  “Are you going to hire him?”

  “Dad wants to.”

  “Why do you seem hesitant?”

  “I guess I’m worried what he’ll find out. What if it’s not what we want? What if he finds out...” Tears began to pool in his eyes. “What if he finds out what the police are saying is true. That I,” he could barely get the words out. “That I killed her.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “But what if I did? I don’t remember Keith. It’s like a terrible hangover. One night I’m at a party and the next morning I wake up in a jail cell with people accusing me of killing my girlfriend. It’s bad enough knowing she died.” The tears broke through the rim and overflowed, dripping down his cheeks while he hastily wiped them away. “What if I did what they’re saying? If I got drunk and high and.” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Then worst case scenario we’ll know. We can find holes. Ways to fight this.”

  “No. If I did it I don’t want to fight. I deserve to rot in here.”

  “Well I’m not going to let that happen. What was the guy’s name again? I’m going to call him. I’ll get his number from your father and be with him every step of the way to see first hand what he finds out, and whatever it is, at least then you’ll know. You’ll be able to sleep at night without thinking the worst.”

  “His name’s Carter Young. He gave me his card.” He pulled the small black card from his pocket and slid it across the table. “I trust you Keith. You meet him. If you think we should hire him, then do it.”

  Keith walked over to the table and picked up the card. It was very plain. Just a name, number and email on one side and some sort of a logo on the other.

  He put the card in his pocket and then sat down in the chair facing Jason. “I want you to talk to someone Jason. Would that be okay? She’s a friend of mine, my wife actually, and she’s a very good psychologist. I think it might help give you answers or clarity. At the very least she might be able to give you some security. With any luck you’ll be home tonight. I’ll let you get settled back in and then we can schedule an appointment for next week. What do you think?”

  “A shrink? Yeah I guess. I should start getting used to seeing someone and talking about my problems. Even if you get me out of this I don’t think I’ll ever be normal again.”

  “Don’t say that Jason. That’s not why I brought it up. I just think it will help.”

  Jason agreed, clasping his fingers in his lap. “Me too.”

  Keith left the jailhouse and immediately called his secretary. He wanted a meeting set up with this Carter guy right away.

  He spent the rest of the day locked in his office going over his notes and at three that afternoon he arrived in court and pleaded “not guilty” to the second-degree murder charge Jason was facing.

  The kid looked good in the blue suit Keith told him to wear, but it wasn’t enough to hide his level of nerves. His arms shook on top of the table and his finger continuously beat along with the rhythm. Several times Keith had to calm his client by resting a reassuring palm atop of his wrist.

  When the judge requested his plea for bail, he suggested it be set at half a million. The prosecution countered at five million; an outrageous amount for a first time offender. The judge took both requests into consideration and due to the assets of Christian Polls, Jason’s father, she set bail at one million. It was higher than Keith wanted, but still affordable, and he escorted Jason to his Scottsdale home later that evening.

  Fifteen

  Annie sat in the tub, the once soapy water now fizzled and lukewarm. She let a leg hang over the side while contemplating every mixed feeling in her mind. Brax’s so-called father was dead. She looked it up after Keith told her about the newscast. He was murdered in the most brutal way. What was Brax thinking right now? How was he feeling? He was now the boss of one of the most feared crime syndicates of New York City. She’d looked that up too. There was little information online about the Em Oh Three, but what she did find sent chills up her spine. She had no idea who she was dealing with; what she was dealing with. Most the details she found were written by a random crime beat reporter for the New York Times and it was all speculation, but if what he said were true, the Emmo were not your usual gangsters. Brax told her as much. Why hadn’t she believed him, or at least believed the severity of the group he associated himself with? The group he now led. She wanted to call him, wanted to find out if he was okay, but how do you call the merciless murderer you just screwed over? Especially after the ominous text message he sent. She saw it once they landed and erased it immediately, along wit
h the rest of his texts. God forbid Keith look at her phone and ask her to explain. While there were no candid accounts of what they did, the flirtatious back and forths wouldn’t bode well for her. And that last text message, it was just plain creepy, and it was now seared into her memory.

  Two wings of the great eagle were given to the woman so that she might fly to her place and be nourished for a time from the face of the serpent.

  At first she thought he was wishing her well. Telling her to fly home and live away from him, but then the Googling started. A quick search of the phrase she never heard before pulled up a passage from the bible. Revelation 12:14. It described the devil searching for a woman he intended to kill. That’s when she researched everything else about the Emmo and came to the stomach curdling realization that he was going to find her. He had her phone number, he knew her maiden name, he could pay someone off at the hotel to find out whose names their rooms were under. How could she have been so stupid to think she would get away? And the sad part was, she hoped Cole’s death would distract him. Maybe he had bigger things to focus on than finding her. At least she prayed he did.

  For the past two weeks she woke up each morning wondering if it was going to be the day. And every night before she fell asleep she wondered if she would ever wake up again. Keith would be comfortably sleeping next to her and she would ponder going to sleep in the guest room. Save him from a death that was sure to occur if Brax found them in bed together, but she couldn’t force herself to leave. What if he was just angry and sent that text to scare her? After all, he did promise he’d never hurt her, but were his promises irrelevant now that he likely found out she lied? Yet if she started sleeping in the guest room, Keith would know something was up. He’d demand to know what was wrong and she’d have nothing to explain unless she wanted to ruin the very relationship she came home to save. So instead, she would lay in bed, one eye open and a gun in her end table drawer, just waiting for it to happen until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and when she’d wake up in the morning, the cycle would start all over again.