by Anne Hagan
“Oh?”
“That was the Director of the Tennessee Department of Corrections. I’m to let you speak with whoever you need to. Now, I’ll just be a few minutes. My assistant is off today, so I’ll have to pull Ms. Ford’s file myself.”
Mel, I don’t know what strings you had to pull, but thanks babe. I owe you. Dana shook her head.
###
Avery Nix was a small woman, and younger than Dana might have thought.
“Who you? You some kind of cop?” she queried Dana as she was led into the visitor’s room. “They tol’ me I had a visitor, not a uniform sittin’ out here, waitin’ for me. I can’t talk to you here…I want to live to see the day I get out of this hell hole.” She ran a hand through her dishwater blond hair that hung flat, almost to her shoulders like she was trying to decide what to do.
“There’s no one in here but you, me and the CO,” Dana pointed out, as she swiveled a little in her seat and waggled a finger around the room. “You don’t want to talk, so be it. I can have them take you back to your cell and have everyone thinking you talked to me anyway.” Dana had another flashback to her visit to State to see Deshawn Dawes. He’d been just as reluctant to talk to her, in a private, locked room.
Nix stood there in her scrub top and jail pants wondering for a moment what to do. “You don’t get it, do you?” she started back on Dana. “Saturday is a visiting day. This room oughta be full. They did something special to have me up in here, by myself with you. Now everyone is going to be talking, asking questions.”
The taste of panic rose in Dana’s throat. I’ve been set up…or she has, but why? She slid to the edge of her chair, perched for flight. The CO moved toward them and Nix backed up reflexively, raising her hands out of habit even though she’d had no opportunity to touch anything.
“No sudden moves, deputy,” the corrections officer warned her. “If you want to leave, I need to remove Nix, first.”
Avery Nix scanned Dana’s face then turned to the CO. “She couldn’t hurt a fly and I got no beef with her, long as you got my back on the block.”
The man nodded.
She glanced at the clock set high on the wall, then asked him, “Ain’t it time for your coffee break?”
He tipped his chin in a slight nod. “I’ll be right outside the door…either one of you needs me.” With that he stepped out.
“So you’ll talk to me?”
Nix nodded and took a seat across the table. “I don’t know why, so don’t ask and don’t take all day.”
“Thanks. Will he…will he have your back?”
The other woman gave her a half shrug. “He’s one of the good ones. Known him most of my life. We don’t have many good ones here, so we’ll see.”
Dana pointed at the vending machines that lined one wall. “Soda, coffee? I could use a coffee myself.”
“This ain’t no social visit,” Nix said. “I don’t like what you’re askin’, I’m walkin’.”
“Suit yourself,” Dana told her. As she walked to the small bank of machines, she asked, “How many of the CO’s are male?”
“On my block, he’s the only one on days. There’s two on nights. Most of ‘em are women.”
Makes sense. “I take it you’re from around here, then?”
“Yeah. Nashville.” That was all Nix would say on the matter.
Dana went ahead and bought two coffees and set one down in front of Nix when she returned to the table. Black; no cream, no sugar. If she was going to be difficult, Dana figured she could play the game even longer.
“I’m not going to waste a lot of your time,” she told the con, as she took her seat. “I know you’re anxious to get back to your cell.”
Nix made a scoffing sound. “Now you think you’re a comedienne, don’t ya?”
“Look,” Dana said, “I’m just trying to do my job, okay? I need to ask you a few questions, is all, then I’ll buzz off and you never have to see me again. Deal?” I need to get far away from this place.
Avery Nix took a small, slow sip from her coffee cup then nodded her agreement.
“Good. Thank you. Now, first off, I’m going to be honest, here. The FBI might want to talk with you too…just putting that out there.”
“What the hell for?”
Dana raised a hand up, but she didn’t dare reach out to the convict across the table. Instead, she got right to the point, “Sheila Ford.”
Nix tipped her head and gave her a look. “What about her?”
“You know she escaped from a compassionate transport by ambulance two days ago?”
“A what?”
“She was…was being transported back to Ohio, by ambulance. She somehow escaped.”
Nix threw her head back and laughed. “Didn’t think the old bat had it in her!”
The reaction took Dana by surprise, but she tried not to let it show. “How long were you and Ford cell mates?”
“I dunno…let’s see.” Nix grew quiet for several long seconds then she answered, “Five, maybe six months. She was in the receiving unit for a while and she’s been gone the past two months or so.”
“Gone?”
“Med bay.”
“They kept her over there for two months?”
She shrugged again. “Pretty much.”
“So, you haven’t seen her in all that time?”
“That’s what I’m sayin’.”
“They move her over there completely?”
“Pretty much.” Nix repeated, nodding. “Came and got her stuff out of the cell after a coupla’ weeks of her being gone.”
“Send you a new cellmate?”
“No. Better not, either.”
Dana let that go. “What sort of medical symptoms…medical problems did you notice with Ford?”
“That woman complained all the damn time! This hurt and that hurt and on, and on.” Nix rattled out several other complaints before stopping to catch a breath.
“How much did you know about her; about her past?”
“Not very much. She didn’t talk about life on the outside with me. I knew she was in here for manslaughter, but I don’t know who she nailed.”
Dana winced at her bluntness.
Undaunted, Nix continued, “Ain’t no man ever come to see her on visitor’s day. I figure, she probably offed the last one. She ain’t interested in women, so that’s a plus in my book.”
Dana bristled but let the comment go. She didn’t correct her assumption about a man being the person Sheila killed. “Did you tell her why you’re in here?”
“It mighta come up.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Why?”
Nix played Coy. “This is about Ford, not me, sugar. It isn’t relevant.”
Dana made a mental note to look the conviction record up for Nix. “Fair enough. Tell me when it started to look like something might be physically wrong with Ford to you.”
The blond steepled her hands and leaned into the table. “She started limping a little and struggling with feeling tired, maybe a month in…in the cell with me, I mean. She’d fall asleep sometimes at the drop of a hat. The sleeping thing…that’s when she started complaining to anyone who would listen to her that something was wrong with her rather than complaining so much about the food.”
“What did you think about that?”
“The food? It sucks. Total shit.”
Dana gave her a hard look. “I mean about her limping and her…her narcolepsy issues.”
“I dunno. What’s to think?” Nix sat back then and spread her hands.
“Do you think it was for real? Ever get the impression she was play acting?”
“It ain’t my place to say.”
I’m not getting anywhere, here. She tried a different tack. “Before she went to med bay, who’d she hang out with…er, talk to, besides you?”
Nix shook her head. “I ain’t a rat. I ain’t goin’ down that road with you. I already said too much.”
“You must know something…Look, what if her life’s in danger? What if she was kidnapped?”
Nix leaned in close and spoke very softly. “You look, okay? I don’t believe Ford was really disabled, but that’s just my opinion. I can’t prove it, and I sure as hell won’t testify to it. The powers that be here would kill me just for talking out of turn, if word of what I just said got back to them.”
“Who are they?”
She took a final sip of her coffee and stood. “I got nothing else for you.”
Chapter 9 - Cops and Docs
“I’m here, you’re here. We’re both working on a Saturday. The more access you give me, the faster I’m out of your…” She caught herself before she said hair. “Out of your jail and on my way.”
“You’ve talked to her cellmate. She’d know her the best.”
“What about your folks in reception? What about the team in the med bay? Can I get a look at her records over there? And, how about the visitor’s log?”
“The FBI’s got the log.”
So, they have been here… “You don’t keep copies?”
He let out a sigh. “I’m going to cooperate Deputy, because I’ve been ordered to, but understand that the things you’re asking for are both involved and part of a federal investigation.”
“And I’m part of that investigation too,” she said, stretching the truth past all boundaries. He didn’t try to argue the point. “I need to figure out who she’s had contact with that might have wanted her outside instead of inside these walls. Either she arranged her escape with someone’s help inside or outside or someone out there saw value in kidnapping her for reasons we don’t know yet and used what they know about her to convince her family to have her transferred.”
“That hardly seems likely.”
“Which?”
“Either, Deputy.”
“You tell me then. You have a lot more experience with prisoners than I do.” She knew it was precious little. She’d done her homework on him. He was a political appointee, on the job as warden less than three years. After finishing law school and passing the bar, he’d never practiced law. He came from a family with a little money and many hands in Tennessee politics. He bounced around from campaign to campaign, helping, taking no salary, never running for office himself. Eventually he’d been awarded a role on the corrections board and now here he was, in control of the only women’s prison in the state.
He pursed his lips and didn’t answer.
“Okay. Let’s do this, then. Let me talk to Ford’s doctor.”
“As I understand it, she was dealing mostly with specialists over at Saint Thomas and running up quite a bill for the taxpayers. You’d have to talk to them.”
“Who referred her out? It had to be someone here, didn’t it?”
He gave in. “Our house doctor; Caroline Rutledge.” He practically spat her name.
“Are there issues with Dr. Rutledge, Warden?”
“Look,” he began as he swung a hand out, “she’s young and not far removed from…from her residency and such.”
“You’re saying you don’t feel she’s competent?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just…just…oh, never mind.”
“She’s idealistic? She doesn’t follow the push meds and push them back to their cells protocol?”
He looked away, confirming her suspicion.
Dana waited, sans any sort of a guard, for Caroline Rutledge in a small vestibule area of the medical unit. While Rutledge busied herself with a patient, Dana studied the stark walls of the area. It was set up like a hospital, but more secure, with heavy duty, electronically locked doors to either side of her. Kinda of like a psych ward, over here, she thought.
A buzz sounded from the entry door to her left and a corrections officer walked through. She shot Dana a look but then continued through a door to Dana’s right, after using her key tag to unlock it. Dana caught a glimpse of a short hallway beyond the second door, but she saw no staff or inmates.
She didn’t have to wait long to see what the CO was up to. The interior door buzzed again, as it had when the CO opened it the first time, and the woman returned gripping the arm of a convict, hustling her through the tiny waiting room. “Let’s go Cherryman. I don’t have all day for your BS.”
“It ain’t BS,” the con shot back. “I fell in the yard. I’m really hurting. Made my other injuries flare up.”
They passed through the thick outer door and Dana lost the thread of their conversation.
A couple of minutes later the interior door buzzed again and the doctor herself peeked around it as she held it half open. “Deputy Rossi?”
Dana stood. “Yes.”
“I’m Doctor Rutledge.” She pointed at the name stitched on her lab coat to illustrate her point. “What can I help you with?”
“Is there somewhere we can talk for a few minutes? I know it’s Saturday. I don’t need a lot of your time.”
“My office, if you like.” She held the door wide for Dana to step through as she continued to speak. “It’s no bother. I’m on the schedule today - usually one Saturday a month - but the patient load is always light on Saturday. Family day, you know?”
“Be busy tomorrow?”
Rutledge glanced back over her shoulder as she shook her head, her loose black curls swaying with the motion. “I’m not on the schedule for Sunday. I hear it tends to be a slow day too. Monday mornings are the worst.” She buzzed them through a door into an office no bigger than the vestibule Dana had just vacated and indicated the lone chair in front of the desk for Dana to take. There was a slit of a window in the room. It let in just enough light to make the office feel less like the closet space Dana felt it should of been.
“You sit in here alone, with prisoners?”
“No…Not because I’m afraid though, if that’s what you’re asking. I have two exam rooms. I see them there. They don’t come in here.” She fell silent, waiting for Dana to make the next move.
Dana studied her for a moment. She certainly looked young, her face void of any makeup, but unlined. She was pretty in a cute sense, but she didn’t seem prone to smile much. Her eyes looked back with interest, but nothing more. She’s becoming jaded, working here. “I’m here to talk with you about a patient…inmate you held here and treated for the past couple of months.”
“You mean inmate Ford?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
“The Warden called ahead?”
Rutledge shook her head again as she cleared her throat. “She’s the only one that’s been down here that long.”
“Why is that?”
“Mobility issues mostly. They’re not set up to handle someone like…in her condition on the cell blocks.”
“And what exactly was her condition?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much.”
“I don’t think HIPAA laws apply here, Doctor, especially since we’re dealing with an escapee.”
“So, she did disappear? I’ve heard rumors…and the Warden’s here today.” Dana couldn’t help but notice Rutledge’s involuntary shiver.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t change anything, but before you ask, it’s not because of HIPAA. Frankly, I’m just here to tend to minor issues. Otherwise, I just administer the medications and treatments prescribed. Inmates like her get most of their treatment and care at Saint Thomas West,” she said, confirming what the warden had already said.
“What did the docs over at Saint Thomas say about Ford? Diagnosis?”
“That’s just it. They don’t seem to know.” She didn’t go any further.
Exasperated with her vagueness, Dana decided on a different approach. “Were they prescribing any meds?”
“About a dozen. Not all at one time, of course. They’ve been running tests on her and changing things, increasing the dosage of this one, eliminating that one. There’s been nothing steady.”
“When…when she was picked up on Thursday, she had nothing at all with
her. No meds, no change of socks, nothing. Was she on any sort of medication at the time she left here?”
Rutledge stood, went over to a small cabinet bolted to the wall alongside the window and unlocked it. “Most stuff is kept in the pharmacy lockers out in the units and administered by my staff. Since inmate Ford was in my temporary custody back here, I kept her medication in here. She pulled out a bottle and read the name off. “Gabapentin. It’s an anticonvulsant and a mild nerve pain medication.”
“Did she have seizures?”
“Not that I’m aware of. As I said, it’s one of a long line of drugs prescribed to her, most of them for pain.”
“So, she had feeling in her legs…her lower extremities then? She could walk?”
“She could, with difficultly. Her mobility seemed limited.”
Seemed?
“These dis…Certain conditions can come and go over a period of time.”
“You were about to say diseases. What disease?”
“No.” Rutledge shook her head vigorously. “She hasn’t been diagnosed with any particular thing. I…I corrected myself. She may well have a neuromuscular disorder, but if they’ve found anything over at Saint Thomas, I haven’t been made privy to that information. You’d need to talk to her doctors there.” She turned back to the cabinet and replaced the drug where she’d gotten it.
She knows more than she’s letting on. Dana made a mental note to look into the doctor’s medical record as well while she was poking around for criminal records on Avery Nix.
Chapter 10 - Walls
Sunday, November 22nd
Dana was getting tired of running into walls. The staff at Saint Vincent ran a tight ship, even on a Sunday. No one would talk to her without a warrant because of the HIPAA laws, even after she explained the urgency of her inquires. She was cooling her heels in the outer room of the CEO’s office suite. The big man was, of course, not in, but Zachery, one of his lowly assistants, had agreed to see her after a file room clerk with a superiority complex called security and asked for her removal.
The man sat across from her, behind a reception desk, frowning into the phone receiver. He kept covering it with his hand when he spoke, muffling the only end of the conversation she could even half way hear. She was growing impatient, but he was oblivious to her plight until she stood and approached him.
